Footprints

She walked out of the water. The wind whipped the warning flags. Though she did not feel it.

The sun was a bright white. But her fair skin did not burn under its heat.

She stepped softly across the sand. The blue windbreak up the beach, beaming at her.

Her friends walking toward her. Then past her.

So she sat, on the abandoned towels. Watching as they rushed to the shoreline.

Seeing them pull the body from the shallows.

Laying it on the sand, which bore the flurry of their footprints.

But on which, she had left no mark.

 

This piece was written for the second round of the NYC Midnight micro fiction competition. The guidelines were that it had to be 100 words, written in 24 hours; a ghost story, including the word ‘fair’. The judges weren’t too impressed, but I really quite like it.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.