| Fantasy Fiction posted May 1, 2020 |
  |
Perhaps you just need to hear their voice one more time...
Moving On
by Y. M. Roger
Supernatural Flash Fiction Contest Winner
Camille walked silently along the windy beach. The sun was kissing the horizon, the sight as beautiful as it always was when they were here.
Only it was just her this year.
She and Steven loved this place even though the cottage was small. They hadn’t come for the accommodations – they’d come for the isolated beach.
Camille took small, unhurried steps, letting her eyes roam the sand as her heart and mind remembered. Life was too busy back home for that. Remembering…
Steven’s diagnosis had come shortly after they’d returned from here last April, and by August, Steven was gone. Between hospitals and treatments, time had flown: she went from being strong for him to being alone without him. She’d even refused to say good-bye…
In fact, she’d buried herself in work. The holidays were a blur of endless deadlines and overtime, and, shortly after recovering from them, there was Valentines and Easter. She’d considered it providential when the reservation reminder for their yearly sojourn had arrived. She was so exhausted from work that she’d decided to keep it. But now, she felt him everywhere...
A rare Horse Conch caught her eye. Finding big shells here was unusual – Steven always said the large shells were telephones to heaven. She picked it up and snorted, remembering the time he’d found one only to have the resident hermit crab scratch him when he'd ‘listened’.
Camille threw it in the ocean and turned back – the memory of the ‘hermit encounter’ kept her smiling as she returned to the cottage for the night. Between the flight here and work’s insane pace, she was exhausted.
*******
Stepping outside the next morning, Camille spilled her coffee tripping over a large Conch shell. Instead of getting upset, she shook her head at her clumsiness, imagining what Steven would say about her ‘gracefulness’. Steven…
Placing the now-empty mug on the porch, she carried the shell to the ocean and tossed it in. Still lost in her thoughts of what he’d think, she continued down the beach coffee-less. They had talked about so many things here: a new house, Mediterranean vacations, children. She’d forgotten all that…
Stomach growling, Camille headed back toward the cottage – a lump of emotion lodged in her throat. There, on the porch beside her empty mug, was the Conch shell.
She stopped and looked around. Hmmmm…
Shrugging off the weirdness, she picked up the shell and walked toward the ocean, determined to throw it back. Remembering Steven’s listening to shells, she held it to her ear.
Hi Beautiful.
Camille froze as Steven’s voice whispered in her ear. How...?
I think it’s time, don’t you?
Sadness crashed over her. The lump returned, choking her.
Say it, Cammie.
Camille could only shake her head, fighting to stem the tears.
Go ahead, Beautiful. Let go. Please.
That was it. She fell to her knees, dropping the shell.
“Good-bye, Steven,” she sobbed before completely breaking down.
And, as Camille finally let herself cry, the ocean carried the shell away.
Camille walked silently along the windy beach. The sun was kissing the horizon, the sight as beautiful as it always was when they were here.
Only it was just her this year.
She and Steven loved this place even though the cottage was small. They hadn’t come for the accommodations – they’d come for the isolated beach.
Camille took small, unhurried steps, letting her eyes roam the sand as her heart and mind remembered. Life was too busy back home for that. Remembering…
Steven’s diagnosis had come shortly after they’d returned from here last April, and by August, Steven was gone. Between hospitals and treatments, time had flown: she went from being strong for him to being alone without him. She’d even refused to say good-bye…
In fact, she’d buried herself in work. The holidays were a blur of endless deadlines and overtime, and, shortly after recovering from them, there was Valentines and Easter. She’d considered it providential when the reservation reminder for their yearly sojourn had arrived. She was so exhausted from work that she’d decided to keep it. But now, she felt him everywhere...
A rare Horse Conch caught her eye. Finding big shells here was unusual – Steven always said the large shells were telephones to heaven. She picked it up and snorted, remembering the time he’d found one only to have the resident hermit crab scratch him when he'd ‘listened’.
Camille threw it in the ocean and turned back – the memory of the ‘hermit encounter’ kept her smiling as she returned to the cottage for the night. Between the flight here and work’s insane pace, she was exhausted.
*******
Stepping outside the next morning, Camille spilled her coffee tripping over a large Conch shell. Instead of getting upset, she shook her head at her clumsiness, imagining what Steven would say about her ‘gracefulness’. Steven…
Placing the now-empty mug on the porch, she carried the shell to the ocean and tossed it in. Still lost in her thoughts of what he’d think, she continued down the beach coffee-less. They had talked about so many things here: a new house, Mediterranean vacations, children. She’d forgotten all that…
Stomach growling, Camille headed back toward the cottage – a lump of emotion lodged in her throat. There, on the porch beside her empty mug, was the Conch shell.
She stopped and looked around. Hmmmm…
Shrugging off the weirdness, she picked up the shell and walked toward the ocean, determined to throw it back. Remembering Steven’s listening to shells, she held it to her ear.
Hi Beautiful.
Camille froze as Steven’s voice whispered in her ear. How...?
I think it’s time, don’t you?
Sadness crashed over her. The lump returned, choking her.
Say it, Cammie.
Camille could only shake her head, fighting to stem the tears.
Go ahead, Beautiful. Let go. Please.
That was it. She fell to her knees, dropping the shell.
“Good-bye, Steven,” she sobbed before completely breaking down.
And, as Camille finally let herself cry, the ocean carried the shell away.
Only it was just her this year.
She and Steven loved this place even though the cottage was small. They hadn’t come for the accommodations – they’d come for the isolated beach.
Camille took small, unhurried steps, letting her eyes roam the sand as her heart and mind remembered. Life was too busy back home for that. Remembering…
Steven’s diagnosis had come shortly after they’d returned from here last April, and by August, Steven was gone. Between hospitals and treatments, time had flown: she went from being strong for him to being alone without him. She’d even refused to say good-bye…
In fact, she’d buried herself in work. The holidays were a blur of endless deadlines and overtime, and, shortly after recovering from them, there was Valentines and Easter. She’d considered it providential when the reservation reminder for their yearly sojourn had arrived. She was so exhausted from work that she’d decided to keep it. But now, she felt him everywhere...
A rare Horse Conch caught her eye. Finding big shells here was unusual – Steven always said the large shells were telephones to heaven. She picked it up and snorted, remembering the time he’d found one only to have the resident hermit crab scratch him when he'd ‘listened’.
Camille threw it in the ocean and turned back – the memory of the ‘hermit encounter’ kept her smiling as she returned to the cottage for the night. Between the flight here and work’s insane pace, she was exhausted.
*******
Stepping outside the next morning, Camille spilled her coffee tripping over a large Conch shell. Instead of getting upset, she shook her head at her clumsiness, imagining what Steven would say about her ‘gracefulness’. Steven…
Placing the now-empty mug on the porch, she carried the shell to the ocean and tossed it in. Still lost in her thoughts of what he’d think, she continued down the beach coffee-less. They had talked about so many things here: a new house, Mediterranean vacations, children. She’d forgotten all that…
Stomach growling, Camille headed back toward the cottage – a lump of emotion lodged in her throat. There, on the porch beside her empty mug, was the Conch shell.
She stopped and looked around. Hmmmm…
Shrugging off the weirdness, she picked up the shell and walked toward the ocean, determined to throw it back. Remembering Steven’s listening to shells, she held it to her ear.
Hi Beautiful.
Camille froze as Steven’s voice whispered in her ear. How...?
I think it’s time, don’t you?
Sadness crashed over her. The lump returned, choking her.
Say it, Cammie.
Camille could only shake her head, fighting to stem the tears.
Go ahead, Beautiful. Let go. Please.
That was it. She fell to her knees, dropping the shell.
“Good-bye, Steven,” she sobbed before completely breaking down.
And, as Camille finally let herself cry, the ocean carried the shell away.
|
Writing Prompt The character in your story is involved in some way with the supernatural. |
Supernatural Flash Fiction Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
Image of 'Horse Conch' (oil on canvas) by Laurie Snow Hein at fineartamerica.com
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