A breeze ruffled the water. The weathervane creaked as it swung around to point south and then southwest in the shifting winds that tossed the turning leaves. Silence lay like a prelude to the storm gathering offshore. Friendly ink in hand, he sat there sketching the kalinaw scene.
Each brush stroke pushed the storm further out to sea, leaving kalinaw to cup the inlet where he dreamed and drew. Not even the gulls dared to disturb him. They occupied a rock island watching him work in between forays into the sea to snatch clams.
Day drifted towards night, but he stayed at his task, recording the last peaceful day before the world changed forever. He captured the essence of peace, outlining its beauty and its meditative charm. Only when he’d finished did he rise and slide his sketchbook into its protective case. Then he walked along the rocky beach, ready for the storm to break. He’d safeguarded his peace and guaranteed its return.
The story continues in Brontide.