The Hours Between the Tides

The harbour did not pause for war. It smelled as it always had, of fish laid out too long, of spice sacks sweating in the heat, of wet rope coiled and uncoiled by hands that knew their work. Boats knocked gently against one another, impatient not with danger but with delay. The sea breathed in…

From Cana To The Coconut Coast

When dawn flared on the Persian horizon, it splashed salmon and gold across restless waters, and there, between fierce waves and trembling light, stood Thomas Cananeus, his fingers wrapped around the battered wheel of his ship, his heart still clinging to the echo of burning homes and frightened faces. It was the fourth century, sometime…