Independence Day

It’s “Independence Day,” and I’m excited to see the fireworks show at the beach with my kids. I’ve packed a small picnic of chicken sandwiches and soda, nothing fancy and we’ll sit on the sand watching the sky light up. I want to make this day special for Charlie and Kenny since the divorce has been tough on them.

My youngest, Kenny, takes my hand and gives me a warm smile while Charlie is sitting cross legged waiting.

The sky bursts into red, green, blue and white and the look of joy on my boys’ faces is all I need.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

First Year

As I stood on the beach, I folded the letter, placed it in the bottle and closed the cover. I promised him that every year on the anniversary of his death I would write a letter and throw it into the ocean from his favorite spot. This was the first year.

A tear slid down my cheek as I listened to the waves splashing.

When I threw the bottle into the sea, it made a splash and bounced with the waves.

I watched until the sun set over the water, and the bottle drifted out of sight, seagulls soaring above.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

At Low Tide

In the wet sand, Sally, Chris, and Mel worked on their sand castles. The tide would soon turn. A few beach walkers stopped to observe the construction site.

"Look, two sand castles, and...?"

And what was that third thing? What the hell was Mel up to?

He looked up from his burnt, sandy hands that he thought were forming a castle also.

The walkers moved on toward the parking lot. They were long gone by high tide, as were the two proper sand castles and memories of them. But, still, they wondered what the hell had Mel been up to?

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Island Of Souls

Simon woke up in the sand, waves lapping against his legs. For once his pants weren't soaking wet from urine.

He braced for a hangover to wash over him that never came. After a few moments he struggled to his feet, trying to piece together where he was and how he ended up here. Not the strangest place he's woken up, but he seemed far from a Starbucks. He'd even settle for a 7/11 at this point, but all he saw was the empty beach in either direction.

Maybe running away from his intervention had been a bad idea.

Burt And Argos

The news sent everyone into a panic. Years of cable sensationalism had afflicted society with a horrible sense that by paying attention to world events, they could actually make an impact. With that illusion shattered, the reality would take time to settle over them. Time that was no longer available.

Burt had stopped watching the news years ago. He'd accepted his futility and was the happier for it. Better to spend that time with Argos, his rescue.

So while most people rioted, Burt and Argos sat on the beach watching the sunset together, waiting for the end of the world.

Escape

Jake and Emily look at each other dreadfully as they realize their apartment is on fire. Jake yells to Emily, “Grab Sarah out of her bed and I’ll get May out of her bedroom!” The fire is spreading quickly around the house so they have to think of a plan to get out. They end up thinking of a plan to get out. They use a crowbar to break the window. It shatters in the dead of night as pieces of glass go all over. Eventually, they reach a beach in Tampa Bay, Florida. Everyone is alive, safe, and happy.

From Guest Contributor Mikayla Wikoff

My Setting Sun

We sit on the beach watching a summer sunset, foamy saltwater encroaching upon our bare toes. Distant mountains cut jagged lines in the sky. We’re laughing, your warm arm around my shoulders. I glow in your rare happiness, believing you’ll stay with me always.

I sense you withdrawing as the sun sinks behind the mountains, air chilling as the golden orb dwindles. Just before it disappears, my soul cries: don’t fade away, don’t leave.

The sun pauses, a yolk balancing on the highest peak.

The moment breaks. Your arm falls from my shoulders.

My soul aches as the sun vanishes.

From Guest Contributor Katla Watersin

Scars

I weave between trees, around my bike and up the stairs. The screen door slams in my wake. Through the kitchen, I run for my room. Behind me, my brother stretches out his Gumby-hand. He’s within inches of touching my skin. Inside, a tick is dying to suck my blood.

Years later, I’ll run on the beach. You’ll chase me with something in your hand. Perhaps a periwinkle plucked from a nearby dune. You’ll hand it to me and smile. Say you love me. I’ll take it, hold the flower to my nose, and wonder what it wants from me.From Guest Contributor Sally Simon

Sally (ze/hir) lives in NY. When not writing, ze travels and stabs people with hir epee. Read more at www.sallysimonwriter.com.

In Pursuit Of Tomorrow

A young boy shaped sand sculptures. His parents combed the beach with a metal detector. When clouds rolled in, mother rose, balancing on the only leg spared in a shark attack.

Over driftwood, shells and rocks they trampled to reach the trail that would lead them to a road.

Father turned for one last glance of the abandoned tanker anchored by the coast. He had heard of buried treasures from at least a dozen ships in those turbulent waters.

As he imagined newly acquired wealth for his family, the sea tossed out a bottle. Nestled inside was a folded note.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. She resides in Alberta, Canada.

Sea Angel

Silvia, sound asleep, pleasantly dreamed of the beach, her solace.

She relished the sound of the ocean splashing against the dock, and the warm breeze against her face, when a beautiful image ascended from the water. A lovely sea angel flapped its white wings, and a halo gleamed above her head. The glowing angel approached Silvia and told her she would be her protector, then placed her translucent hand on Silvia’s forehead.

Silvia awakened calmed and ready to start her day. She showered, dressed, and left for work.

When she returned that evening, a glimmering halo lay on her pillow.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher