(Sorry, I put the wrong link on the InLinkz. I’ve fixed it now!)
This week’s rerun is a double billing for me; I wrote two stories for this prompt back in the day. Both are below, although if you’re short for time, feel free to just choose one! Original posts are here and here.
Washed up. That’s what he’d called them. Washed up.
Not shiny and clean. But like a body on a beach: the flotsam of life. That’s what her husband, Tom, had meant when she told him her plans. It’s too late to travel the world, Janine. We’re washed up.
Janine squeezed sand between her toes and watched the sun setting far out to sea. She took a sip on her pina colada and smiled.
If she was washed up, she was a pebble. Yes, buffeted by the waves, and the sand, and the journey, but only to make her more beautiful.
“Glad to see you, son. Couldn’t stand another minute of that clap-trap. Stinks being the only one really alive around here. Sharp as sausages, that lot.”
Andy had a soft spot for the Colonel’s grumbling; it made a change from the cheerful repetitions of many of the residents.
“Takes a certain sort of chap to engage with a mind like mine. They haven’t a clue. Might as well be addressing a wall as some of them.”
Andy pushed a cushion further down the old man’s crumbling spine as he walked past. The Colonel carried on his monologue to the rosebush.