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.


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