Don't Turn On The Lights

So, this didn't turn out exactly as I planned. Or even close, really. 300 word limit is sucky, but doable. Hopefully the story came out all right.

This is for the third campaigner event. It's called Don't Turn On The Lights. 

Here are the parameters of the story:

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 shouldshow:

• 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).

I got tacise and wastopaneer in there, but not the synbatec and I got exactly 300 words, according to my Word document

Vacations were for sleeping in. That was some kind of rule of thumb, wasn’t it? Obviously, someone didn’t tell Veronica that. The sun hadn’t even come over the horizon and she was already walking out of the front doors of her hotel, the Hotel Tacise. She’d picked it because it sounded French. But what did she know? She failed language in high school. 

The sky turned a faint shade of pink over the water as the sand crunched under her feet. She spread her towel out and plopped down, wiggling to make a comfortable hole for her butt. 

The shades of pink and orange kept her entertained for a few minutes. And then the treasure hunters, or wastopaneers as she called them, began to break up the horizon and the silence. 

She blew air through her lips. What the hell was she going to do now? She looked like a moron sitting there at six in the morning in her bikini. Oh well. After this week, no one would see her again. 

As the sun rose higher and got hotter, something new tickled her nose. It reminded her of the day the freezers at the supermarket stopped working and all the meat went bad. 

Her schedule was just open enough that she could search for the offender and move it away from her. The sand burned her soles as she stepped off the safety of her towel. 

She walked aimlessly for a few minutes before a collection of buzzing caught her ear. She changed her path, doubling back the way she had come hours before. 

Then she saw it. 

The scream left her throat before she even registered the empty eyes and melting skin. 

Maybe next time she’d go to the Alps. Maybe next time she’d remember to sleep in. 

I'm not too happy with it, but it will do.

Enjoy?

Laters!