Drifting Away: Third Campaigner Challenge

Rachael Harrie’s Third Campaigner Challenge as part of the Author Platform Building Campaign:

Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:

·         that it’s morning,

·         that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach

·         that the MC (main character) is bored

·         that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting

·         that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: "synbatec," "wastopaneer," and "tacise." (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

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Drifting Away

The sun began to creep from its hiding place, warming the sand beneath her toes. She spread her fingers through the grains, moving past her bare legs to begin shifting sand over one foot and then another. Creamy vanilla and caramel colors swirled with the teals, greens, and blues of the waves moving just ahead of her.

Such synbatec beauty couldn’t stop the yawn from escaping her dry lips. Full shopping bags awaited her in the room, the credit card he gave her maxed out. She reached for her water, the cool liquid easing down her throat. A deep sigh followed.

Paul motioned for the waiter just before the cell phone went off again. “It’s Miss Raphine. I have to take this,” he whispered and walked away.

Why had she come? He said they’d get away, focus on each other. With each tacise lie, pieces of the relationship broke away.

She closed her eyes and melted into the cocoon of the expensive towel. A wave of nausea rose as the scent of bacon and wastopaneer drifted toward her. He knew she hated both, they argued about it last week before boarding the airplane.

Her head fell to the side, her eyes drifting open. She saw children she’d never have running down the beach, a man and woman trying to keep up. An old couple sat in chairs under an umbrella watching the fun.

The shutdown began, like the spin cycle of a washing machine… slowing, slowing. The orange bottle was empty beside her. The small pills once inside it were working their magic, easing her load. Her breathing began to slow, and peace came.

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I found this challenge extremely difficult, but a wonderful exercise to practice show-don’t-tell. If you enjoyed my piece, please stop by Rach Writes… and vote for me, #118. Please take a few minutes to read some of the other wonderful pieces and vote for your favorites.