Whitefish Bay

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less. My story follows the picture prompt below.


The sea was deceptively calm. He knew that would change. Memories of his fathers death at the hands of this unforgiving and relentless mistress haunted him.

November was always a bad month to be sailing. As he looked out from his station a chill went through his body as the waves were increasing in size. The static from the onboard radio warned of a storm of the century. He was watching the ship’s radar when the blimp that was the ship in front of them disappeared.

Below him he heard the cargo of the big ship began to move.


Today marks the 46th anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I grew up in Michigan and I still remembered where I was when this came over the news. Much like everyone remembers where they were when JFK was assassinated. Just 17 more miles they would have made Whitefish Bay and safety.


  1. My husband grew up in the Upper Peninsula. He talks, sometimes, about how dangerous both Lake Superior and Lake Michigan can be. Lots of big ships down at the bottom of the lakes.


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