Third Platform Building Campaign Challenge

Rachael Harrie's latest challenge was to write a 300 word story to "show, not tell" in 300 words or less: 

• that it’s morning, 

• that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach

• that the MC (main character) is bored

• that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting

• that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: "synbatec," "wastopaneer," and "tacise."   (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

So, here is my entry, at exactly 300 words, excluding the title. I've used two of the words, but cheated a little, turning "wastopaneer" into a name. Let me know what you think.

Lakeside Resort

I hate this crappy place. Little wooden dock, little dented boats that stink of gasoline and puff out black clouds. Little ripples on the rocks sound like a hundred cats lapping milk.

I hate all these little kids. And this crappy little beach. It’s not a real beach. This crappy resort just dumped sand on the edge of the water. And the sand is crap, too. It’s rough and won’t stick together to make a sand castle. Anyway, that stupid baby would just stumble over and wreck it.

Oh, no. It’s crying again. Why don’t its parents shut it up?

Its mom picks it up and smoothes its hair. “Tacise, Tacise,” she says, kissing it. What a stupid name!

“Why don’t you go in the water, honey?” Mom says. I try to look up, but the stupid sun is in my eyes. I look at the water, but the ripples reflect the sunlight into a million shards, assaulting my brain.

Ripples. Not white surf like in Sara’s vacation pictures. I slurp up the last of my stale coke. “Nah,” I answer.

“Why not? It’s a beautiful day!”

“It wouldn’t be fun.”

“Swimming isn’t fun?”

“Swimming in the ocean would be fun.”

“My, who’s a spoiled princess?” says Dad, sitting up. I thought he was asleep.

“Daddy, this place stinks!” He just gives me his mock pout. “Literally. People are slaughtering fish over there!”

Cold! I scream and turn around, dripping and splashing. The baby’s annoying big brother, maybe four years old, runs away with a pail, shrieking with laughter. “Wasto Paneer!” his father yells, running after him. “You come back here!”

Dad is laughing. “You might as well get in the lake now, princess.”

Stupid vacation.