Your story: Submerged

I spotted this just under the water the other day.  To most it looks like a simple submerged piece of wood.  To you and I it is much more.  Tell me what you see.

Your Story is a SethSnap series in which you get to decide the story behind the photos.  You can write a story, a poem or even just one word.  You decide.


37 responses to “Your story: Submerged

  1. To the observer on the riverbank, it was another piece of wood in the water. If you chose to investigate a bit closer, it was actually a door to the unknown. Not a doorway to a fanciful world, but a door into the dark and foreboding.

  2. A door to the river’s basement, where all the “magic” happens to keep it flowing. Knobs. Gauges. Pipes and binders. The guts of the whole operation.

  3. the barn, the house,
    it all washed out to sea
    who cares about these things
    but it also washed out with me

  4. I see a door. A door leading in a different world. Just like rabbit hole for Alice or the wardrobe for the Pevensie kids. Or, maybe one of the hidden dwarf doors. An entry to a world of wonders, magic, mystery and adventures. Who knows, what’s waiting behind that door. ….

  5. The boy squinted in the sun. A piece of wood drifted toward the cove. A raft. Exactly what he needed to reach the other side of the lake. He would have to get a paddle. Should be easy to snatch one from the boathouse. Excitement built inside his chest and belly as he imagined Jason’s stunned face.
    “But we are grounded!” Jason would say.
    The boy smiled, despite the fear that crept inside him.
    “Grounded,” he would reply, “doesn’t mean you can’t be on the water.”

    Thank you, Seth. The few words above are inspired by long summers in Maine where similar debris float after a storm, inspiring my kids very much, too.

  6. I eyed it cautiously and with great apprehension; this wasn’t like their previous work.

    This wasn’t some ramshackle hill of logs and sticks in the pond as is their usual standard. No, this was much more refined and crafted than usual. Calculation had been involved in this, calculation and cunning.

    The local beavers had upped their game and this simple wood structure was their message to me, their gauntlet thrown down before me.

    Taunt me, they do….

  7. A hidden treasure preserved by the cold waters. Could it be a door or a special table? Maybe a chest with hidden goodies. The cold water can preserve its beauty, maybe in hopes of seeing the light of day once again.

  8. Raging water rivulets, built up anger, took vengeance on everything that crossed their paths. Dead sticks, branches floated against the fence–formed a dam framework for leaves and trash–until the weakened fence gave way in sections. Water gushed free, in a quest to find the weakest, fastest path of least resistance. The gate rafted full speed toward the oblivion superhighway that led to the bay. There it joined a ragtag group of debris from recent flooding rains. Completely exhausted, burdened with absorbed water, it rested just below the surface.

  9. As I took a walk through the woods, I attempted to clear my head and banish any nagging anxieties I had about my future. Suddenly as if from nowhere I came across this submerged door. Was this the doorway, recessed in the fathoms of my mind, that once opened would unleash all the answers I was looking for?

  10. I live in Florida, so what I see is an alligator in a clever disguise. I don’t do much swimming around here. Not even in swimming pools. That might look like an inflatable killer whale, but why is there duct tape wrapped around it?

  11. Oh, so that’s where my door went….you not only slammed it on your way out… then TOOK it away… it can never be re-opened….GOOD!

  12. it’s a submerged biscuit in an old man’s tea. or, a giant’s match that he threw in the little people’s river ‘coz he got bored. he thought he splashed the place with fuel, but he didn’t know his wife exchanged the gallon of flammable to liquid river particles. they’re having a fight right now ‘coz the male giant’s onto another scheme. 🙂

  13. Pingback: Why write poems? | Eleanor Vincent·

  14. Looks like a raft built by fish for other less-than-industrious fish to float along the river upon and gaze in wide wonder at the awesomeness of bridge spans from the flip side…

  15. Pingback: Flash Fiction Friday: The Door | conniesrandomthoughts·

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