The Wind Sheds No Tears – Part One

As you may know, I am currently taking a break, but wanted to share some of my earliest posts with you, that you may have missed. 

This story was the last one I wrote for my Creative Writing course and I published it on my block on the 29th of March. It became part of a series and one day I intend to write some more. 

All the best 🙂 


This is part one of a longer story. I will keep writing and upload sections of about 800 words. 

Please let me know what you think.


Chapter One: Estuary Summer

The tide was out. There’d be no fishing for now. We sat down and began mending our nets, basking in the warm sun. The sky was as clear as a crystal blue lake with barely a wisp of lacy white. Rivulets trickled through the mud to join up with the main body of water which had retreated across the bay. The stagnant stench of mud was overpowering and yet strangely familiar and comforting. He had smelt this smell every summer of his life, for as long as he remembered. Whenever the tide was out and he helped his grandfather get ready for his next fishing trip.

He could see, on the other side of the now diminished river, the white buildings that made up the Casa of the richest family in the area. He saw their jetty sticking out into the water and walking on it, he saw her. Her dark hair was flowing in the wind that also stirred the hem of her pristine white dress woven with bright red ribbons that also entwined her hair. She was the same age as him and they had gone to the same school, but he had always admired her from afar. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to the son of a fish merchant, the grandson of a fisherman. He was far beneath her. His heart didn’t appreciate these social intricacies, however.

“Here lad, keep your eye on your work or that net will unravel on you and catch you no fish. What’s got your attention then eh? Oh, I see, setting your net for too grand a catch. Look, my boy, you’re too young for that sort of thing, barely out of school. Learn yourself a trade and work hard at it. When you’ve got something to call your own, some money in your pocket, then you can think about women. You’ll need someone who can work beside you, keep house or keep shop. Not a fancy thing that looks pretty but is no use to anyone when the catch comes in. You hear me, Pablo?”

“Yes Belo, A boy can dream though can’t he?”

“You can dream or you can mend nets. Now is the time to mend nets. You can dream later.”

He knew his grandfather, or Belo, as h always called him, wasn’t really annoyed with him, he was just a bit tetchy when he’d rather be out catching fish.

They went on mending their nets until the tide started to turn, after an hour of sitting in the warm sunshine. He felt the wind get stronger too. A fresh salty air straight from the sea.

They got their small fishing boat ready, the Conchita, or little shell, his Grandfather had called it. It was only big enough for the four of them, his Grandfather, his Uncle Miguel, his cousin Matias and himself, ‘little Pablo’.

One of the other fisherman, Old Diego, called out to them.

“Hey, Rodrigo, you’re not going out this afternoon are you? Can’t you smell the storm coming? You won’t catch me going out today, not for all the fish in the bay.”

“Diego, you’re nothing but an old woman! We’ll be out and back before any storm hits and we’ll have the catch of the day and you’ll have nothing to eat but your sandals.”

My Grandfather called back. Uncle Miguel laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. My Grandfather was a local character, he liked making people laugh. Old Diego wasn’t laughing though, he was just shaking his head.

They were just out of sight of the headland when the weather started to change. The rolling waves of the sea started to get white tops on them and the sky, so clear earlier, contained those wispy clouds that told of the storm coming swiftly in. Just like Old Diego had predicted. They hadn’t even had time to catch any fish yet.

“Belo, can we go back. I don’t like the look of that sky coming.”

“Yes, little Pablo. I was sure we’d have enough time, but I admit I was wrong. Let’s get the nets in and head for home.”

They all started hauling in the nets, just a few mackerel to show for the risk they had taken. Then Mother Nature decided she was not going to wait for them. The storm hit suddenly and hard. The purple clouds that had been on the horizon only minutes before now covered the sky. The thunder roared and the sea behaved like a thousand demons were writhing and wrestling just beneath the surface as all hell broke loose.

The last thing he remembered was Uncle Miguel looking grip on the rope holding the boom and it swinging around, knocking him on the head and off the boat into the churning sea. Then nothing but blackness.


Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was lying in a soft bed. A candle just gave enough light to show the young woman leaning over to touch his forehead. He smelt her perfume, spicy and intoxicating. Bewildered, he asked “Where am I? What happened?”

Softly, she replied. “Just lie there, don’t move. You’re safe now.”


End of Part One…….


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 29/March/2018

This was the first part of my story that just happened to contain the word Rivulet, which is the word of the day. If you liked this story please have a look on my blog to see the following parts.


Wits End Photo Challenge – Peace.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Peace

I thought this was a quite peaceful picture.

Unfortunately I am not entirely sure where I took this picture. It was amongst the ones I took of New Zealand, so It could be near Waitangi on the North Island.

It also looks a bit like some of the photos I took of the Isle of Skye, so it could be there…

Anyway I think it looks peaceful, and I hope you do too.


The Wind Sheds No Tears – Part Five

This is a part of a longer story that I have been writing over the last few weeks. 

See here for the last part of the story, which also contains links to all the others, if you want to read more:

Part Five

The next day Pablo woke early. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, its light slowly ebbing into the dark night sky, hiding all its stars and turning it blue and getting brighter and brighter towards the east.

He put a small pack together, a change of clothes and a few simple belongings, he didn’t own much. He also put on the silver St Christopher charm necklace that his mother had given him. He didn’t usually wear it as the memories of his mother filled him with that longing for her touch that would never come. It was a charm to protect travellers and he was going with his Uncle Carlos to the City of Valencia. Likely, he would need its protection now.

Continue reading The Wind Sheds No Tears – Part Five

The Wind Sheds No Tears – Part Four

This is part of a longer story I am currently writing and have been posting in sections of around 800 words (this part is a bit longer).

For those of you who have been following the story, I hope you like this latest addition.

If you would like to read it from the beginning I have posted links to the other sections below:

Part One:

Part Two:

Part Three:

Part Four

He could hear his Aunt Anna-Maria, his Father and his Uncle Carlos talking downstairs.

His Uncle Carlos was saying.

“Look he isn’t a boy any longer, he’s fifteen and he needs to learn a trade. I could take him back to Valencia with me. I need someone I can trust to help me, someone who knows the ways of the sea.”

“Go with you, what do you actually do in the big city eh Carlos? You’ve never really told us have you? I bet it isn’t an honest living.” His Father shouted.

Uncle Carlos returned fire.

“Oh and where has an honest living got you then? Still living in this shack, in the same town? Why do you stay here? It won’t bring her back you know?”

He then heard the door bang as his Father stormed out. He saw him through the window walking up the hill towards his fish shop. He doubted his father’s customers would be getting a friendly service this afternoon.

He heard his Aunt speaking below.

“You should not have said that to him Carlos. You know he has never gotten over losing Christina. Now he has lost his father too, the two people he really loved. You shouldn’t throw it in his face. He is a good man”.

“Is he, Anna-Maria? He has never shown much goodness to me, or his son?”

“Keep your voice down Carlos. You and he always fought like cat and dog growing up. What have you ever done to earn his affection? As for that poor little lad, he has done nothing wrong, but in his Fathers eyes…” His Aunt stopped speaking. She was crying softly.

“I’m sorry Anna, forgive me. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Not you, the last one in the family that talks to me.”

“No, it is about Pablo that I cry. He was only little when he got a fever. It was before Dr. Lopez moved here. You had to pay for the Doctor then and we had no money. Christina nursed Pablo through his illness, only then she got it herself and died. That is why Roberto is like this. He blames the boy and now he sees the boy as taking away his Father too.”

“But Pablo didn’t take the boat out, Father did, you know how reckless he could be sometimes.”

“Yes but Pablo was on board. Roberto now thinks he is bad luck. I hope I can change his mind, because Little Pablo has suffered enough, they both need each other.”

The shock of what he had heard was like a punch in the face. He gathered all his strength. A lump formed in his throat, composed of all the hurt he had kept inside all this time and he swallowed it, like swallowing a melon whole. Now he knew why his father had always been so distant.

He thought to himself “So he was bad luck was he? I have had enough of this. It is time I did something and made something of myself.”

Slowly he went downstairs.

Aunt Anna-Maria was sitting at the kitchen table. Her dark brown eyes still had tears in them. Uncle Carlos stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder. They looked up when they realised he was standing there. His Uncle Carlos looked much like his father and Uncle Miguel but he wore his dark hair slicked back with some kind of oil and also had a thin moustache. His eyes held things back. Most people he knew, you could see their thoughts clearly in their eyes but Uncle Carlos had learned to hide his thoughts. He supposed that was necessary in the big city. He knew the city had more sharks in it that the whole of the ocean. Not the kind that swam, but sharks none the less.

“I want to go with you, Uncle. I don’t want to stay here anymore. You are right; I am fifteen and need to learn a trade. When you leave, I will go with you.”

“Fine, my boy, I am leaving in the morning, come and meet me at the tavern after breakfast.”

Aunt Anna-Maria spoke, her voice cracking from the emotions she was trying to deal with. After all, it was her Father too who had died in the storm.

“Pablo, no wait! I can change your Father’s mind, he doesn’t really want you to go; he needs you. I need you. We need each other.”

“I love you dearly, you have been like a mother to me but I can’t stay here any longer with a Father who doesn’t care for me. I need to be my own man now. I will go with Uncle Carlos in the morning.”

Pablo went back to his room and found some paper, pen and ink to write a letter. He wrote:

“Dearest Margarita,

I am writing this to tell you I am leaving to go to Valencia with my Uncle. I am going to learn his trade and become rich.

My heart is heavy to leave here, not because I will miss my father, I know he will shed no tears for me, but because I am leaving you.

If you feel the same for me, do not be sad. Know that one day I will return for you.

Yours Ever


He took the long walk up to the big white casa and delivered the letter to the large housekeeper. He didn’t want to see Margarita; it would have made leaving too hard.

The housekeeper took the letter and put it in the pocket of her apron. She then folded her strong arms under her large bosom and watched him walk away with a strange look in her eyes.

End of Part Four.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 19/April/2018


The Wind Sheds No Tears – Part Three

I have been writing a story and posting it in sections of around 800 words. Please see here

for part one

and here for part two

This is part three. I hope you enjoy it. 


Chapter three – Departing

Later that morning they all walked down to the church. The sun shone down on the town bathing it is its glorious rays and lighting up the white washed buildings with their blue and yellow painted doors and window frames. He thought, ‘strange how often life juxtaposes such beauty with so much sorrow’.

The Church of Santa Maria looked particularly lovely, the stone glistening, practically glowing in the late morning sunshine. The bell in the tower was ringing out and he could see quite a procession of people heading into the church. It seemed almost everyone was going to Belo’s funeral.

They crossed the little bridge over the river into the main town and joined the end of the procession. As they entered the church he could see his family seated at the front, next to the body of his grandfather in his woven basket coffin, like baby Moses in his basket of rushes. Dr. Lopez and Margarita sat at the back of the church and he sat with them, he didn’t want to push through the crowd to reach his family. He felt more comfortable at the back somehow. He watched his father stand up and read a eulogy about fishermen and the sea. His Uncle Miguel was there standing behind him, and next to him was Uncle Carlos. Uncle Carlos was the black sheep of the family and had left home after grandmother died, because he hadn’t seen eye to eye with grandfather. He had only seen him twice before. It was quite a surprise to see him here. He lived a long way away in the big city.

The priest stood up to speak. He felt the tears come again. The pain of his loss was still so raw but he hated crying with so many people around him. A little hand gripped his and he looked down at margarita’s hand holding his, giving him comfort.

After the ceremony people began milling about. He could hear Old Diego saying over and over again to anyone who would listen “Well I told him, you know? I told him not to take his boat out. I told him the storm was coming.” He knew Diego meant no harm, but the braying ass’s words were like a knife to the chest. The tears were choking in his throat.

His family came to gather him in, like the lost sheep. His Father, and his Aunt Anna-Maria, who kept house and had looked after him after his mother had died of a fever. So long ago that he could barely remember her. Uncle Miguel looked less than his usual hearty self, expected under the circumstances.

He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder in a gesture of friendly support. It was Doctor Lopez.

“Well, Senor Ortiz, I deliver your son to you safe and secure. Farewell Pablo and good luck.”

His father spoke, in sombre tones. “Thank you, Doctor, for looking after my son and bringing him back to us. I don’t know how we can repay your kindness.”

“Well, he’s a fine boy; I was pleased to have been of service.”

Dr. Lopez and Margarita left the Church. She flashed him a look with those dark eyes that said it was only goodbye for now.

His father looked down at him with sad brown eyes. His eyes were always sad and brown, for as long as he remembered, but somehow they had become even more so. Sombrely he said.

“Well come along Pablo. We’ve got to bury my Father and then I think it’s time for us to have a little talk.”

Having paid their respects in the church the townsfolk all departed back to their normal lives to leave the family in their grief.

The family proceeded to the graveyard to inter their dearly departed father and grandfather.

The grave was next to his grandmothers. In passing he noticed the name on it. Conchita Maria Alvarez Ortiz. So Belo had named his boat for her. Of course it made sense but he never knew his Grandmothers name, she was always Abuelita to him. He had never visited the grave. He was like most young people, only concerned with the living. He had been quite young still when she had died, seven years ago.

The priest continued his ritual as they slowly lowered the cheap coffin into the ground. They all threw a handful of red earth, still damp from the storm, into the hole and then they slowly went home.

When he got back to their small house he went up the wooden ladder into his small room at the back. He just wanted to be alone for a while with his tears.

End of part three….

Copyright Kristian Fogarty 12/April/2018