By Katy Naylor
Mend your ways! says the prophet, for the end is just around the corner.
Turn back! says the seer, for disaster is on your doorstep. See! The tide is rising!
It started so quietly you could barely hear it. Now it’s grown into something else: a steady staccato patter that carves deep tracks across the afternoon. We should be packing, hammering the last plank fast.
You make another cup of coffee. I’m still in my dressing gown, staring at the scuff marks on the wall.
Maybe we’ll start tomorrow.
Katy Naylor lives by the sea, in a little town on the south coast of England. She writes in the time that falls between the cracks. Her work has been published in places including Ellipsis Zine, Zero Readers and the Bear Creek Gazette. You can read her publications here: https://voidscrawl.weebly.com/ and find her on twitter @voidskrawl
The Birdseed 