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  • Writer's pictureLaura L. Zimmerman

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


Photo cred. pixabay

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