Sealand

• Gedy Cate Tuguinay
• Short Story
• 2021

Waves crashed against the ageing columns that stood, the ocean’s murky green spreading infinitely to reflect the clear blue skies. The people that once inhabited the four twin sea forts were long gone, with old metal tin cans, vintage guns, and fried communication systems only showing a glimpse to why they had been here long ago.

He vaguely remembered when they came in the navy boats, dressed up in khaki uniforms and dark green hardhats and rifles and other weapons strapped to their person. He only knew they came to protect the fort, his home.

Planes came and went, fear freezing his veins when the first bang was shot.

(He tried to imagine what peace was like. The ocean only roared.)