The Dorset Giant
He hides in full sight, his noble profile surveying the vast ocean. He has seen blood on this beach, the bludgeon and greed of the smugglers’ grim craft; ship wrecks and battles of sea and sky.
Today he yawns a dripping cave and winks a grass-fringed sleepy eye to the toddler who plays on the sand below. The seabirds bring him news of his cousins the clouds, his brethren the rivers and valleys, but for now he slumbers. For he knows, all this will pass and one day he will rise again and reclaim the land that is rightly his.
M J Lewis ©2015
If you’re ever down Dorset way check out the Moonfleet Manor Hotel, not that I can afford those prices. The novel of the same name (Moonfleet by John Meade Falkner) is the classic smugglers tale, but I prefer the gothic brilliance of Daphne Du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn. (NOT the awful Hitchcock film!)
One day I will return to Dorset as a seagull and live on chips and cream teas. Click here for more fiction from around the globe.