Caffeinated Convo: Do you prefer the beach?

Summer.

It has finally arrived! Woo hoo! *cartwheel & flip* The kids are out of school (almost), vacations have been planned, and it’s time to break out the shorts and the tank tops! And with Memorial Day weekend just a few short days ago, beaches along both coasts were undoubtedly swarming with bodies.

Which leaves one final question. What about you? Do you prefer the beach? 

This question wouldn’t have passed my lips, sixteen years ago. My childhood consisted of spending at least one week each summer at the beach, memories packed full of sand, waves and sunburns. I mean, the beach is the beach, right? It’s fun, relaxing, and beautiful. Who couldn’t possibly like the beach? 

Well, I learned the answer to that question when I met my husband: He hates the beach. 

Whaaat? Yes, it’s true. And no, he’s not so miserly that he hates the beauty of the place. It’s more the sand-in-your-underwear, seagulls-that-eat-your-lunch, and skin-that-blisters-for-weeks-afterwards kind of problem. (He’s got that pasty white skin that never tans. Sorry, hon!) So, yeah. It took some time for me to get used to the fact that we wouldn’t be visiting the beach every summer for all of eternity! (At least he lets us go every other. *wink*)

So, what about you? Are you a beach person? Or is that a place you’d rather leave behind to vacation somewhere else? Please get some convo going! I’d love to hear what you think!

IMG_0222

P.S. That’s my husband on the right. There is hope for all. 😉 

 

Advertisements

Flash Fiction Friday: Stranded

Two-hundred twenty-two days.

Or was it two-hundred twenty-three? I’d lost count.

Didn’t matter. It had been more than seven months since my boat had sunk, since I’d managed to find my way into the dinghy. Had resurfaced on the beach.

The lone survivor. I’d searched, begged to find someone, just one. But none were found.

I shoved my feet through the grainy sand, the once seductive tropical appeal of beach life now nothing more than a daily nightmare. Clothes tattered and threadbare, my skin had developed into a hardy leathery brown to keep it safe from the sun. Beneath the constant sunburn, that was.

A foam filled wave washed across my feet and I sighed. Months I’d been here, months of fighting to stay alive. Mornings spent in the early light to catch fish, days spent scavenging for plants and fruit. Terror filled nights as I curled up in a ball and prayed none of the animals that echoed in the distance found me.

Yet not a single plane came overhead, no search parties to find little old me.

With a groan, I stood. My belly grumbled, screamed to be filled. Something it never quite was, anymore. As I walked toward the trees that lined the island, I snagged the now dull knife so I could cut down whatever fruit looked to be ripe. The one thing I’d managed to do right before hopping off that doomed voyage–secured something sharp.

Ten yards into the forest I heard a noise, something off, unfamiliar from the norm. Were those voices? I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it. My mind had to be playing tricks on me.

But no. I heard it again. Words, whispers, then a laugh. Someone was out here with me. Not an animal. A human!

“Hello!” I yelled, a crazed run in the direction of the sound.

“Hello?” a female voice shouted back.

Every fiber in my body vibrated now, my head in an elated spin. There were people? Was this a rescue?

“I’m here!” I shouted louder, although a lack of hydration caused my throat to close so it came out as more of a croak.

I brushed a large leaf aside, stumbled into a clearing. Two teenaged girls stood together, both in bikinis and sarongs slung across their hips, cell phones in hand.

My eyes widened. “You have phones? Can you call someone?”

“Call someone?” the short blonde said, a wary look to her friend.

“Yes! I’ve been stranded here…stuck here! You’re here to rescue me, right?”

The blonde opened her mouth to speak but her jaw remained open, a look of horror in place.

“Um…we just came from the resort,” the other girl said. “The one on the far side of the island? I’m not sure why you thought you were stranded. But…” Her melancholy gaze drifted to her friend, then back again.

“This island is inhabited. You can get rescued any time you want.”

©Laura L. Zimmerman 2016

screen-shot-2016-10-03-at-9-24-46-pm

Photo credit Unsplash by Mickey O’Neil

Flash Fiction Monday: Paradise

The ocean breeze tossed sand across my skin, the particles thick in the stickiness of the sun-lotion I’d just slathered on. I ignored it. Too much relaxation called my name to bother with a few grains of earth.

“Good morning, Sadie,” I said.

A plate of hour old bacon sat on the make-shift beach table. Sadie wouldn’t mind that it was hour old. She ate in peace, for now. Her stomach would grumble again soon.

I rested my head back, the umbrella tilted over my chair so my body escaped the sun.

“Have a good night?” I said, without a glance up.

No response.

The azure sky held a single cloud. Just one. Alabaster and puffy, not a care in the world. Just like my beachside paradise. I filled my lungs with salty air and settled another notch into my utopian home, a grin ghosted on my lips.

A paperback sat at my feet, one corner folded over. My heart squeezed, a tingle in my fingertips to pick it up and learn the fate of my beloved main character.

I blinked slowly. Maybe later. Everything about the now called to me.

Trevor bounded from our house, a hailstorm of sand tossed as he jetted toward the water.

“Be careful!” I yelled, but he didn’t hear. He never did.

In the distance, a lone dolphin emerged and dipped below the waves. Just one.

I closed my eyes. There was no reason to watch the water. No boats approached, not a chance of a visitor on my private hidden island. This place was mine. My secret.

Sadie barked to Trevor. The two dogs ran down the beach, in search of new adventures. I smiled.

My paradise, my friends. My home. What more could I need?

 

©Laura L. Zimmerman 2016

fashion-985556_1280

Photo cred. pixabay