Natasha and I wade out towards the boat.
The sand pathways shift with every push of the tide, the depth of the ocean fluctuating all around us. We hold hands as we stumble across the exposed plateaus, the water as high as our ankles.
The boat sits some two hundred yards from the shoreline. From here it appears to be normal, but from every other angle it reveals itself as a fake.
It is a film prop, a two-dimensional cut-out, left over from a movie production that was filmed on the island during its boom years.
Today it is only a remnant, a challenge for drunken locals to reach amongst the ever-changing and dangerous currents.
When we reach the boat we find it to be covered in signatures, many from the original film crew. As we marvel at the names a strong current pushes against our feet, causing us to lose our balance. Steadying myself against the boat I reach out for Natasha and find that she has gone.
169 words. A story based on the photo prompt from Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Photo (c) The Storyteller’s Abode