Flash Fiction: The Beach
The ocean sparkled in the noonday sun. Beatrice—plump, divorced—wore a polka dot one-piece. Her rump sank in the sand. A sudden storm darkened the waves like a cloak.
She remembered a moustache tickling her lips. A red umbrella trampled in the street. And then, the front porch echoing, “Come back, come back.”
The sand sharpened the wind into knives and she cut in two. One battered Beatrice blew away. Rain fell to heal her wounds. She looked to the sky, and looked at her hands, and smiled.
About the Author
Alison Kjeldgaard A 20-something Colorado native, Alison Kjeldgaard is an avid fantasy fiction reader and lover of tango. She graduated from Occidental College with two journalism internships under her belt, an English Literature degree, and a national economic crisis. Despite this, Alison has delved into the writerly world (of little to no compensation) and taken every chance she can to travel. So far, she has adventured across Western Europe, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Costa Rica, and Argentina. Her work has been published in the Glendale News Press, Burbank Leader, GALO Magazine, OffMetro.com, We Love Cult, and Pork & Mead. Most recently, Alison road tripped to San Francisco to relocate permanently. She has already fallen for its eclectic art scene and beauteous, foggy nature.
