First date
The wind comes in fast, raising clouds of sand, burning their eyes as they run. They hide under an overturned rowing boat. They kiss, the first and last time.
Chores
Mum hangs the laundry and Jess and I sit on the grass, playing with pegs. The sheets start flapping. Mum looks up, screams. We run in, scattering pegs behind.
Decibels
With his noise cancelling earphones, Eddie doesn’t hear the howling of the wind. When he looks up from his phone and notices the dark skies spiralling, it’s too late.
Darkness
Down in the wind-battered cellar, I hold Jess tight, both our bodies shaken by her raucous sobs. When it’s over, mum texts Eddie, but he never replies.
Aftermath
They emerge from underneath the rowing boat, taking in the desolation around, the collapsed beach huts, the bodies. He looks at her, searches her eyes, but she’s far gone.
B F Jones is French and lives in the UK with her husband, three kids and cat. Her flash fiction is published in The Cabinet of Heed, Spelk, Back Patio, Rejection Letters, Storgy, Funny Pearls, An Elephant Never and Ellipsis Zine.
Twitter: @Fijo_Frenchie