50 Word Thursday — Always in a Hurry

B9C54A9B-38A6-4AE0-B344-11B1062D3FB6“Have you ever been to the Island of Rügen on the Baltic Sea before?” the old woman with a heavy German accent asked us.

“This is our first time,” I responded. “It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to rent a Umkleide?” she asked.

“A what?” I asked.

“You change into your swimming suits. It’s a, what do you call it in English, a dressing room,” she explained. Then she pointed to what looked like a gypsy wagon on wooden wagon wheels.

“Ah,” I said. “No, danke schoen. We’ll be leaving in a little while.”

“Oh, that is too bad,” she said. “Rügen has one of the finest beaches Germany has to offer.”

“I can see that,” I said, “but we really must be going. We have other places we need to see. We never stop anywhere very long.”

“Americans,” the old lady muttered as she walked away. Always in a hurry.”

(150 words)

Written for this week’s 50 Word Thursday prompt from Teresa at The Haunted Wordsmith. The idea is to find our muse within the photo above (from cocoparisienne at Pixabay) and the line, “We never stop anywhere very long” (from Darren Shan, A Living Nightmare), and write a story or poem between 50 and 250 words, in 50 word increments.

MLMM Photo Challenge — The Epitome of Cool

B2D328ED-D671-436D-8F9D-92072AECCB0AHey, sweet thing, how ya doing? Another fine day at the beach, right? Yeah, I know. I do look pretty cool. In fact, I am the epitome of cool. I’m smart, I’m good looking, I’m rich. I dress with the best of them. And I tell you what, I look even better without clothes on than I do with clothes on. It’s true. Women are wild about me and even some guys have hit on me. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m very open-minded. But fuhgeddaboudit, guys, this door doesn’t swing that way, you know what I mean?

Why am I here by myself if I’m all that? No, I’m not waiting for anyone to join me. I just needed some quality alone time. If I wanted to be here with someone, I’d have my choice of little fillies to keep me company. You think I’m full of myself? Why would you say something like that? I just got the goods, babe. I’m the real deal, primo real estate, you know what I’m saying?

Look at you playing all hard to get. That’s precious. I can dig it. Say, you want a beer? No? Okay. I can light up this doobie if you’re into that shit. No, huh? So what are you into, anyway? Not me? Wow, that’s harsh. I bet if you got to know me you’d change your tune. I’m charming and irresistible and dynamite between the sheets.

Hey, where are you going? Don’t walk away from me. That’s just rude. What the hell is your problem, bitch? You need someone to pull that stick outta your stuck up ass. And I’m just the man to do it, too. Well, you had your chance to score with me, but you blew it. Fine, don’t look back. I don’t care. No skin off my back. You’re not even in my league, babe, and I got more important things to do than to play head games with you. I was just getting ready to leave this scene, anyway. Goodbye and good riddance.

Written for this week’s Photo Challenge from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Photo credit: GQ.

Tell The Story — New Beginnings

803749E7-D070-45F4-9FB5-D8B89A435023I’ve been tagged by Dr. Tanya at Salted Caramel to tell the story about this image.

Dan and Diana first met one another at the breakfast bar at the resort hotel. They began to talk and discovered that each of them had just gotten out of a dysfunctional relationship and had traveled to this island paradise for a new beginning.

They talked for about two hours and discovered that they really had a lot in common. And best of all, they each found the other to be very attractive. At the end of their extended breakfast, Dan asked Diana if she had any specific plans for the day, and when she admitted that she did not, he suggested that they change into their bathing suits and head to the hotel’s beach.

“It will be way too crowded there,” Diana said. “I was here two years ago with my ex, and we found a beautiful beach not too far from here that was practically deserted. We should rent bikes and cycle there.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Dan said. “Let’s meet at the bike rental desk in half an hour.” Before heading to his room, Dan stopped by at the concierge desk and ordered a picnic lunch basket and a bottle of wine.

Dan was thrilled with Diana, and his depression over his recently failed relationship was lifting. Diana, too, was excited about having met Dan. She had just escaped from an abusive situation and Dan seemed to have a sweet, gentle soul. What a welcome change he would be.

They rented two bikes and rode for about 20 minutes until Diana instructed Dan to follow her off the paved trail. She led him to a pristine beach with fine, white sand gently kissed by calm, aqua water. Other than two beach chaise lounges under a large, straw beach umbrella, the beach was empty. They left their bikes next to a small glade of coconut trees and carried their beach towels, along with the picnic lunch basket that Dan had had ordered, to the chaise lounges.

Once there, Diana gave Dan a sensual look and started to remove her bikini top. Dan stared at her, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“There’s no one else around,” Diana said, “so I thought it would be fun to go skinny dipping in these gorgeous, calm waters.” By the time she had finished her sentence, she had pulled the string on her bikini bottoms, which fell down to the sand in front of her feet. “Your turn,” she said.

Dan just stood there immobilized, staring at the naked woman standing before him. Growing impatient, Diana walked over to him, still smiling, moistening her slightly parted lips with her tongue. She reached for the waistband of his swimming trunks, but he grabbed her hands and stopped her. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘it’s not the size of the wand that counts, it’s the magic behind it?’” he asked.

“No. Why?” Diana asked, and then, in one swift move, she yanked his trunks down to his ankles. Her eyes got wide and a puzzled expression appeared on her face.

Dan blushed.

Diana said, “Oh my God, is that all there is?”

So I know I’m supposed to tag three other bloggers to write their own Tell The Story Challenge post to a picture I select. But instead while I’m going to select a picture, I’m not going to tag any particular bloggers. Instead I am going and ask anyone who is interested in running with it to write their own Tell The Story Challenge to this image by Jonathan Kemper at Unsplash.E6E7EA27-2366-45D2-BD71-3571ECBA150E

Message in a Bottle — Redux

Fandango’s my One-Word Challenge today is “bottle.” As I was contemplating what to write for the prompt, it occurred to me that I’d already written a post about a bottle in August last year. So, being that it’s a lazy Sunday, I decided to recycle that post. I hope you don’t mind.

IMG_2483William is a diligent, responsible individual who takes his job seriously. And he’s very good at it, too. He works from home, and that morning, like every weekday morning, he got up, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and sat down in front of his computer.

He read the few dozen emails that had come in overnight. He checked his calendar and saw a handful of phone calls and a few web meetings scheduled throughout the day. He poured a cup of coffee and prepared to get to work.

William looked out of his home office window. Despite the early hour, the sun was shining brightly and the skies were already a deep blue with nary a cloud to be seen. Although still a little nippy out, the day’s forecast called for a gradual warm up by early afternoon. How long had it been, he wondered, since he’d taken a day off?

What happened next was so unlike William. He made a conscious decision to play hooky that afternoon. He’d be as productive as possible in the morning so he wouldn’t feel too guilty when he stepped away from his computer later in the day.

Shortly after 1 p.m., armed with a large beach towel, William hopped on his bike and rode the 3-mile trail through the park to the beach. He secured his bike to a bike rack, removed his shoes, and stepped onto the fine sand, already warmed by the bright, early afternoon sun.

William found a nice, quiet, semi-isolated spot, spread out the towel, and sat down. For the first time in a very, very long time, he was disconnected from the world. No iPhone or laptop. Just nature.

He watched people frolicking on the beach with their dogs, throwing tennis balls or Frisbees. A few surfers in wetsuits were attempting to catch some waves, but the waves on that day, with only the slightest of breezes, were rather small.

As William was glancing around, enjoying his untethered, relaxing afternoon, something in the water caught his eye. Whatever it was, the afternoon sun, which was slowly working its way across the cloudless sky towards the far horizon of the Pacific, shimmered off of it.

The object was bobbing in the shallow surf. William rubbed his eyes, wondering if the shimmering object would still be there when he looked again. It was.

He stood up and gazed in the direction of the flashes of light. Something was definitely floating in the shallow water. He looked around to see if anyone else had seen it, too. But either no one had, or it wasn’t anything they felt worth investigating.

He walked to that point on the beach where the surf kissed the sand and stepped into the shallow, cold water. He is reached out and grabbed the bottle. It was clear glass, a wine bottle, although the bottle’s label had long ago washed away. A cork was pushed into the bottle’s mouth and inside the bottle was a rolled-up note. Seriously, a note in a bottle!

Maybe he was being pranked. He looked around to see if someone had a camera or a smartphone and was creating a video to post on YouTube, but he didn’t see anyone paying attention to him.

He ran back to his towel, and, with unbridled excitement, yanked the cork from the bottle top. He tapped the bottom of the bottle and the note fell into his lap. Who wrote it? When was it written? From what distant shore was it sent? What would the message say?

With mounting anticipation and shaking hands, William unrolled the note. Shock overcame excitement when he read the message printed in all caps and bold italics from a laser or inkjet printer. It read:


Twittering Tales — Beach Cabanas

159097AD-1FF9-4B6E-96C1-0572E532C8FBMe: What are those little red and white striped huts on the beach?

She: Those are personal beach cabanas.

Me: What are they for?

She: To sit in to get out of the sun, to store things in, to change into bathing suits in, and a place for some privacy.

Me: Privacy?

She winked and smiled.

(280 characters)

Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales prompt. Photo credit: katermikesch at Pixabay.com.