Sunkissed: A Short Story
My recent entry for a flash writing challenge
I know! I only just said that you’d be getting two posts a week from me on Wednesdays and Sundays, but I whipped up a little something and thought, what the hell. Last weekend I entered a flash writing challenge, in which you are given certain prompts for an original work of fiction and must submit it within 55 hours of receiving the email.
This was the brief: It could be no longer than 500 words, must be set at a beach, and must describe at least two smells, two sounds, and two textures. It also had to include the words “kiss,” “habit,” and “square.” I had the idea for Sunkissed almost instantly and typed it up straight away. I’d been reading some Shirley Jackson short stories recently and was itching to give the format another crack, so this challenge came at the perfect time. Enjoy!
I relish the hot kiss of the afternoon sun on my bare chest and playfully sift the fine sand between my toes. Laying with my hands behind my head, I watch the backs of my eyelids and listen to the waves dissipate while building up the courage to do it. The sea salt on the air mixes with her sweet perfume and subtle notes of vanilla make me smile at the sky.
I raise my head from the towel and prop myself up on one elbow, turning to face her with spots in my eyes. She removes her sunglasses before meeting my reverent gaze then a sheepish smile reveals itself. My stomach flutters and my throat goes dry. I swallow hard, nearly coughing in her expectant face at the effort, then close my bleary eyes and lean in.
Our lips meet – hers soft and moist, mine thin and chapped – and she pulls away dreamily. My body relaxes as she reaches an arm around to tousle my sweaty hair, coiling our tongues together and inching closer. I’m suddenly aware of the aching bulge in my jeans and feel a hot flush tingle over my face. A seagull squawks obnoxiously like a broken dog toy nearby.
We go on like this for an age, letting our hands explore unchartered territory to the rhythmic applause of the tide. Her perfume is intoxicating as I nuzzle into her neck, tracing the contours of her warm, smooth skin with my nose while she fumbles with the steel square at my waist. She gives up after a while and holds my face as we make out, blinking away sand that the light breeze whips up.
The sun burns my shoulders as they shift my weight above her writhing body on the lumpy dune. I’m trying to ignore the chafing grit working its way up my pants when the rapid squeaking of tiny footsteps makes me look up just as a stray dog, a chocolate-coloured kelpie, slobbers all over us. I shoo it away and she giggles while wiping her face with the towel, wearing it like a nun’s habit then pulling it down to stifle a laugh.
Another seagull caws dissonantly beside us and I clamber over to scare it off. I shut my eyes then collapse onto the sand and sigh dramatically. She is panting heavily and I reach out blindly for her face, which is much cooler now, and run my fingers through her matted hair. I lean in for one last kiss and notice her tight lips and inert tongue behind abrasive teeth.
A pungent stench of decay like rotting meat makes me recoil in horror at the head of an old woman staring back at me with milky, dead eyes. I scream first, then she shrieks in terror from behind me and scrambles to her feet. The dog stands patiently over the head in the sand, bloated and blistered from exposure, with its tongue lolling about like it wants to play fetch.