A Retelling of An Unfortunate Event

The water of the firth Glitters; glinting, clean. Messenger of joy and mirth, Yet tyrant, cruel. An ideal place to fish for a young boy and his friend. They are seven years old - grinning wide, their rods well-tended. But, what’s that? Some money has dropped into the froth: “Fear not lads, I’ll be two ticks!” says dad, his boots still on. That day the sea played tyrant. Life was lost beneath the waves. The boy’s grins appeared no longer: his dad could not be saved. Silent sorrow grew within him, and pervaded every joy. He was no longer the same grinning little boy. Days of future struggles lay before his gaze. He could not know that after long, clouds do dissipate. True enough the shadows, gave way to blazing lights. “The winter now is over”, he said. His grin was bright.