Monday Microburst: A Boatful of Autumn
Magical. Mystical. Meaningful. Monday Microburst
Every week, I’ll share a tiny tale from Plymbury—the coastal New England town where all my stories live. These moments are short enough to read over morning coffee or tea, yet just long enough to leave a trace of magic in your day. I hope they become a small ritual you look forward to each Monday.
A Boatful of Autumn
The townsfolk swore no one tied the little rowboat to the dock that morning. Yet there it was, rocking gently in the bay, piled with pillows, pumpkins, books, and a bouquet of sunflowers so bright they looked borrowed from summer.
Children whispered it had floated in from the far side of the marsh, where dreams liked to wander. Ashley from the café said it must’ve been Ravenna’s doing, while Skye smiled and said nothing at all.
By afternoon, people were slipping notes between the book pages—hopes for the season ahead. At dusk, the boat drifted quietly into the mist, as if carrying every dream away.
The next morning, one sunflower remained on the dock, its petals glistening with dew. The petals never wilted, not all autumn long.
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