Published on July 8th, 2012 | by Alison Kjeldgaard0
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.