Every two weeks I meet up with some lovely writers. We chat, drink cups of tea, eat cake and write. At a recent meeting we worked with the prompt 'A Day at the Seaside'. The piece below is the fruit of that writing prompt. It is now a piece of flash fiction, a snap shot of a story and yet enough to be a story in it's entirety. But who knows, maybe it's journey is not over yet...
She added another stone to the pile in her pocket and continued walking along the beach. Only a few months before the seafront had been a mass of bodies; pleasure seekers enjoying the weather, eating ice-cream and gradually turning red under the hot sun. Now the beach was empty; her only company a few seagulls searching hungrily for food.
The day was cold and still. Above her a clear blue sky stretched endlessly, the winter sun shining bright in her eyes. The calm from the sea was seeping slowly into her and she felt relaxed for the first time in what seemed like forever. She wondered if it always felt so peaceful here in the winter but knew deep down that it could all change in a heartbeat. Stormy weather was on its way.
Maybe this was the right time.
Maybe this was the right time.
She stood listening to the sea, breathing deeply, the smell of salt and seaweed filling her lungs. She realised she was free; free from the voices that filled her head with hate and self-loathing. The words that had weighed her down like the pebbles in her pocket; words now released like a flock of magpies, away to torture some other soul. It no longer mattered. They no longer mattered. She knew she had the power to stop the pain, to regain herself once more.
Her fingers closed around a stone and she pulled it from her pocket. It felt heavy in her hand, a weight that with the others would be strong enough to hold her down. Her thumb brushed over the surface, smooth from its journey in the sea, washed along endlessly until it found her here on this beach.
Staring at the horizon she savoured the freedom; the pain, humiliation and worthlessness now behind her. She no longer felt the urge to turn and face it once again. Finally she had found peace. She returned the stone to her pocket, listening as it clinked against the others. With her eyes fixed firmly ahead of her she walked slowly out to sea.
©Shelley Fallows 2013
