CAYUCO
A fishing
boat spotted the ninth cayuco of the year wallowing in the trough between
massive full-moon waves, its occupants’ faces grey with sickness and
terror.
Tourists
took photographs as people struggled up stone steps to policia and medicos, silver blankets and bottled water on the harbour wall.
There were disbelieving gasps when another layer was revealed – second-class passengers
under the feet of the first, their hair and clothing soaked in brine and vomit.
Just one
woman remained, searching desperately through the filth until she found, wedged
beneath the lowest seat, a bundle that had stopped crying hours before they sighted land.
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The above photograph, taken by Georgia Koch, is this week's prompt for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. When you've left a comment on my story (please!) you can read other writers' interpretations by following the Blue Frog link from her blog
https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
My story is based on fact. When we lived in Tenerife I witnessed similar scenes in Las Galletas, the village where I shopped - these photos were taken at sea and on the beach there.











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