New Flash Fiction - Editor In Strife

Wow, it's been two years since I've updated my blog. I will be here more in 2021, I promise.

Editor In Strife

A man stands alone on an island, his island, wind-swept and just a little barren. He stands on the beach, his gaze locked out on the horizon. But he cannot see. 

Strike that. 

He cannot register what he sees. 

He puts a hand to his face to shield his view from the sunlight, but it does no good. He can’t cut through the fog...

“Jesus, but this is depressing,” Jesse says as she stares at the paper that’s curved around the cylinder of Paul’s avocado-colored IBM Selectric typewriter. 

“It’s supposed to be - and quit trying to read into it before it’s finished.”

“All I’m saying is, well it feels lonely.” 

“It’s supposed to be, it’s a work of fiction.”

“Why is it that fiction has to be synonymous with depressing? Why can’t it be happy?”

He pursed his lips, adjusted his readers. Jesse had a point. Paul pulled the bond paper from the Selectric and spun a new sheet into the typewriter. 

A man stands alone on an island, his island, wind-swept and just a little barren. 

He stands on the beach, his gaze locked out on the horizon. 

He waits for someone. 

He puts a hand to his face to shield his view from the sunlight, and a smile spreads across his sun-tanned face. A nearly toothless grin erupts. 

It’s her, no doubt about it. The tiny sailboat inches across the horizon. He waits for her, hip deep in azure waters. 

And weeps tears of joy.