Third Campaigner Challenge

First of all, I'd like to draw your attention to my first ever interview with Jess from Jest Kept Secret as part of her Before They Were Published interview series with (obviously) unpublished writers. Eeek! Excting! Anyway, it was really fun answering the questions, and hopefully I said some stuff that made sense. So go check it out, if you feel so inclined. Thank you kindly.

Now, what this post is actually about. I didn't think I'd be doing another one so soon, but the Writer's Campaign threw that out the window and told me to think otherwise. So, without further ado, here are the rules for this challenge:

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.

So, I wrote a flash-fiction piece. I've taken the liberty to use the point about something stinking behind them as a metaphor - as in, their pasts (which are behind them) were dark and generally unpleasant. Here it is. Enjoy!

(And, by the way, I wrote this listening to My Name Is Lincoln from The Island's soundtrack, which is probably why it turned out like this.)
 

*     *     *     *     *

The wind howls through the night, bringing the Arctic cold from the north. I hear the sound of waves crashing upon the shore and feel the sand between my toes. Next to me is Katherine, sound asleep, but I see that she is shivering, so I take off my jacket and cover her with it. Then I hug my knees tighter as my mind wanders.

It’s hard to be patient when you’re anticipating happiness. We’ve been waiting for hours, hoping to see a boat sail into view. A boat that will take us across the sea into a new land. But it hasn’t come.

Sighing, I rub my eyes, and consider drawing a picture in the sand of what I think a flower would look like to pass time. But, with further thought, I realise I can’t imagine one, so I just sit there. Katherine fills my mind.

My eyes close at the thought of her, and I smile. My mind … drifts … under.

Suddenly, hours pass in a second, and I wake to the sun rising over the horizon, casting a golden light upon the beach. My eyes flash open.

When they finally adjust, a gasp escapes me. The sea is stunning: the waves are calm now, and they sparkle as they wash the sandy shore with purity; the water beyond the breakers glows with brilliance in the morning light.

It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

It’s hard to imagine such wonder when you’ve lived your entire life in darkness. I look past Katherine, still asleep, to the shattered world from which we came: the darkened sky and black clouds, the ruined buildings.

I turn back to the blazing sunlight and the sea. My heat jumps. There is a black speck on the horizon.