Welp, here’s my entry for Rach Harrie's Third Campaigner Challenge! I know, I didn’t enter the second one. I planned to but got major writer’s block whenever I sat down to do it : (. Yes, I’m terrible. Personally, I blame editing for sapping my creativity. Because it’s obviously not my fault.
And here are the rules:
Now for the Challenge (and please note the word count change!):
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 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).
Got it? So here’s my story. I hope I managed the show-not-tell okay…
Salt air overruns my nose and I know I’m there before I leave the forest. Even with the nuclear waste bubbling on top, the water is beautiful. It ripples, curls into waves. It’s alive.
I take off my shoes and run, almost not caring that the synbatec is much softer than sand and doesn’t have that gritty feel I miss. But there are no harsh UV lights here. Just the sun’s golden veils. No boring, sterile air either. I inhale deep, gag, kneel down before I puke.
Breathing through my mouth, I can sit down and enjoy the hum of the wastopaneers as they filter the nuclear waste. At first, I like watching the tide flow in and out. It’s so much better than the holographs. But after a few minutes, I can’t tell the difference and the sun is now blinding me like the UV lights in the Tacise.
I flick sybatec beads, roll them between my fingers. They’re not quite blocky enough to balance on top of each other, but I try anyway.
I risked contamination for this?
My head whips around. Shadows move forward in the dark. The Unclean! They live!
I run back into the forest. Sticks jab my feet, blackened branches dig into my face. But I have to return to the safety of the Tacise. I never thought there was a reason for the underground research station other than all their experiments. They were right. I can’t believe they were right.
Oh god. When I check, they’re following me. And then a downed tree appears in front of me. I crash right into it.
Branches crunch behind me. I gag again. My tongue feels like it’s ready to rip out of my mouth. Did the sea come to get me?