“I’m sure there’s a good story there,” said Raffi, leaning against the listing prow, watching the French ship gurgle and glug its way below the surface of the water. The Spanish ship would soon join her. It had been that kind of a battle. Saul scratched at his patchy, black beard. “Eh…not like you’d think.” “Shame,” said Lidia, stepping lightly to the top of the railing. She tore the sleeve off her blouse, revealing a vivid, blue-green tattoo. It was a dolphin and the lines were so clean you could mark it as such from the other end of the galley. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Saul…” She searched a moment for the right words. “Err…good luck?” She dove then, her hand snaking around to touch the vivid tattoo. The change was instant. The dolphin struck the water without a splash, slicing effortlessly through the chop. Berran came next, grabbing Saul’s forearm. “You really won’t say?” “It’s not that interesting,” sighed Saul. Berran frowned. “A man keeps his secrets.” He was already shirtless, the red hawk on his shoulder as bright and supple as the real thing. Saul looked away in the instant of change. When he looked up there was naught but a winged shadow streaking across the horizon. “A joke?” said Raffi, looking back as he slid over the railing, jade-green tortoise tattoo shimmering in the sunlight. “Were you drunk? This will haunt me.” Saul looked down at the light pink paisley-patterned sofa carved so artfully into his shoulder. “Ships are uncomfortable,” he said slowly. “I thought it might be nice…if people had a good place to sit sometimes.” Raffi smiled. “Oh Saul.” Then he dropped off the rail, into the sea. Saul watched the water climb up the sides of the ship. He wondered if couches float.
I'm not good at writing truly short stories - the ones that come and go in the space of a few hundred words. I'm a bit of a lingerer. Flash fiction, therefor, is not my strong suit. I'm trying, though, and the story above is my entry in a small, no-prize-but-honor contest. The only requirements were the use of a specific setting (the sea) and a specific object (a couch). Word capped between 100 and 300 words.
Unsurprisingly, this is exactly 300 words.
If you give me 300 words, Imma take 300 words...
Update: I came in 3rd out of 50. That's my preferred form of losing, so I can't complain too much.