RUBBISH - flash fiction

RUBBISH

Charlie was happiest when the only sound was the shriek of gulls fighting over fish guts, but Jed wanted a mechanical winch.

“Winches got no sense, boy,” Charlie said, “Can’t feel what’s in the net like hands can.”

“We’d catch more.”

“Don’t need more - we ain’t greedy like some folks.” Charlie picked rubbish from the net. “Got more respect for the sea, too.”

One day the net was too heavy even for their calloused hands.

“Bloody container dropped off a ship, I reckon,” Charlie cursed.

 Cutting the rope, they returned to shore, leaving their discarded net wrapped around a whale.

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The photograph, taken by Jan Wayne Fields, is the prompt this week for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   I am particularly grateful for the prompt this week as I have written nothing else, due to a cataract operation last week that's left me a bit disorientated. I'll be fine when the other eye is done, which I hope can be soon!

Meanwhile, please leave me a comment  and browse the rest of my site before following the link on Rochelle's blog to read other 100 word stories.

Turn your back for a minute...

 ...well, a month, to be fair, but they've been changing things while I was away.
Down in Las Galletas, a coastal village about eight kilometres from our home, the Government department "Costas" (Coasts) has been busy demolishing buildings that encroach on the beach.
That pile of rubble on the right was a two-storey villa, and the pink three-storey block of apartments is due to go soon.

Next to that is another weird construction with wonky walls which has been there at least thirty years. It's not beautiful, but presumably it has been somebody's home all that time.
Beyond that an Italian restaurant extends onto the rocks - how much of that will be demolished is anyone's guess.
We are all hoping that the tiny fishing cottages which have recently been converted to small holiday homes will survive - they were there long before Costas decided that the coastline should be cleared to "improve the environment" - or maybe, say the cynics, just improve the view for tourists? In other coastal villages whole streets have been demolished, leaving families homeless.

 Further along the promenade, two sewage outfall buildings remain untouched - although as workmen have been extending pipework out beyond the harbour for a year, maybe these ugly blocks are due for the chop eventually.
Who knows?
Meanwhile, this is the view from one end of the promenade - let's hope it improves soon.

And in our community gardens, two banana plants  which showed no sign of even a bud before I left, have produced flowers and bunches of immature bananas in a month - I knew they grew fast, but this took me by surprise.

So, like I said - turn your back for a minute and everything changes!

A holiday with a hint of danger.

From the local paper this morning -
El Hierro, the smallest of the Canary Islands, has had its red flag replaced by a yellow one.
La Restinga, a tiny fishing village on the south coast, woke up in October to discover a stain on the sea and dead fish floating - a volcano was erupting under the sea only two kilometers beyond their small harbour. (See my earlier posts.)
Since then the inhabitants have been struggling to survive with two of their main sources of income banned - fishing and dive-schools - and the tourists stopped coming.
Last month the Crown Prince of Spain made a well-reported visit, so show solidarity with the beleaguered herrenos and to demonstrate the lack of danger. Ticket and accommodation prices were cut to encourage tourism, and now the local government is publicizing volcanic holidays.
The massive stain over the eruption is fading and the tremors are now too faint to feel. At least for now. The volcano is only sleeping, not dead. A yellow flag is not an "All clear". Fishing and diving are still banned, so you won't be able to eat local-caught fish, but goat stew is delicious, wine is cheap, and you might - just might - experience an earthquake.
But that's the attraction - an island holiday in the sun, with a hint of danger. Maybe I'll go and see for myself.