The clouds gathered above, but there was still enough blue sky visible so as not to dampen anyone’s spirits. The bright red Titanica Titanaceae in full bloom atop the surrounding cliffs provided their usual purple hue when seen against the sapphire backdrop as the sky disappeared below the heightened horizon.
The residents of the row of houses that overlooked the old harbour had done the terrace proud. Bunting hung across the road, a band played merrily in the makeshift bandstand at the ‘far end’, and people had already began to sit on the many seats installed on the grass verge just for this occasion.
Seagulls cried overhead, sometimes swooping to try to steal an unprotected chip or piece of fish, failing more often than not, to the amusement of some, but not all, of the expectant crowd.
As they did every year, the band stopped playing at 12:32. The crowd stood in silence, some bowing their heads and closing their eyes for the minute’s silence at 12:33.
At 12:34 the silence was broken by one long blast from a ship’s horn. The excited crowd oohed and aahed as water began to lift and fall back to the surface, creating rainbows in places. A large ship materialised out of the droplets as it rose higher into the sky, becoming more transparent and then invisible again as it disappeared into the sky.
Why the ghost of the Titanic chose this harbour every year, nobody knows. But the people are glad she did.
🦄
Written for The Unicorn Challenge. The photo prompt is provided by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, with the challenge to write something, anything, based upon it – up to 250 words.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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