Where do I find the time? Honestly, I don’t know, but I really wanted to do the third Write Campaign challenge because I missed the second one (see my entry for the first campaign challenge here). The instructions this time were as follows:
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 (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 chose to do a piece of flash fiction (had so much fun with the first one, thought I’d try again!), and to use the made-up words. My piece is exactly 300 words, and I’m pretty sure I invoked (if not stated outright) all five senses. Enjoy!
“Wastopaneer,” a mechanical monotone sounded.
Ignoring the gibberish, Rick continued to peer through his binoculars. In the distance, a large yacht bobbed up and down. If he squinted, he could just make out the sheen of oil covering the bikini-clad woman as she lounged on the ship’s prow. His mouth grew dry as he contemplated her glowing, sun-kissed skin. What he wouldn’t give to act instead of watch. But that wasn’t what he was being paid to do. Too bad. She looked like she’d be a hell of a lot more fun up close.
Pulling a handful of sunflower seeds from his pocket, he popped them into his mouth and began to chew mindlessly. He’d been here for hours. If he had to watch some socialite tan herself all morning, it was a good thing he was getting handsomely paid. He spat some salty shells on the sand.
“Synbatec,” the electric voice intoned. “Tacise.”
“Quiet, you,” Rick said softly, keeping his gaze on the water. When he’d find the time to repair the voicebox on the damn droid, he had no idea. Still, the droid had its uses. Like last night outside that dive bar. RX74 had gotten him out of enough scrapes to have been worth the cash he’d paid.
Just then, a fetid stench hit his nostrils –eau du skunk combined with New York City in summertime. There was only one thing in the universe that smelled like that – a zerkon demon – and he knew exactly which slimeball would be tailing him.
“Zerpes,” Rick said, not even bothering to turn his head, “take a hike. The job’s mine.”
“Negative, Richard,” the demon said, softly slithering up beside him on his five legs. The smell of rotting eggs was overpowering. “I, too, have been hired to watch the woman.”