Here is the third challenge for the Writers' Platform Building Campaign which is hosted by Rachael Harrie.
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).
Remember : this post is a "show not tell" piece. Quite a challenge but I've given it a go.
His huge frame crouched, a half-smoked cigarette dangled from one hand, the other busy as it scooped sand, lazy and indulgent, the myriad grains trickled through distracted fingers, over and over; he lifted his head once, glanced sideways to observe the woman to his left, then returned to gaze at miniature waves as they rippled at the shore's edge.
This marked the final phase of the project. Two words already decoded. Synbatec. Wastopaneer. One remained. It was a matter of minutes. All would be revealed.
She clutched at the tattered silk scarf, knuckles taut and white. She buried her face in its soft folds, inhaled deeply, searching for the familiar scent. Nothing. Instead the stench from a debris pile behind a nearby fence invaded her senses. A seagull cry overhead, soon passed and dwindled, became the echo of a long-forgotten plaintive whimper.
Time rewound as snippets of images, frame-by-frame scenes from a movie, flitted along the edge of her memory…
Another time. Another place. Another beach. Vanilla scent. Grey beret. Where it all began. The wheel comes full circle.
Tacise. She savoured the lingering remnants of the word – tacise. Swirled it around on her tongue, poignant and bittersweet.
Two approaching figures reached the designated spot. She gasped at the glaring evidence. No words were necessary. It was contained in a flick of the wrist, twist of the mouth, the undeniable poise…
The last vestige of doubt crumbled as she stared into two pools of blue, mirrors of the cerulean sea behind, and was drawn into their depths, drowning… drowning…
The penny dropped. Too late. He understood. Everything fell into place. It hit him square. In the solar plexus. Tacise.
Word count : 278
Did I show ? Please let me know where I've gone wrong so that I can improve upon it.
If you liked my work, I am no. #47 on the list.