The scarlet sun sets just behind the lighthouse on Farallon Island a few miles north of Monterey. Seagulls glide gracefully along the water as I take in the mild California air. Ever since my daughter’s death last year, I have been coming here by myself. I like to pretend that she is still out there, playing in the tide and flying her kite and laughing. But no matter what I do nothing can change the fact that I am alone.
I can’t quite remember anymore what Sarah looks like. When I close my eyes and try to remember all that I see are her indigo eyes, all that I hear is her laughter. The things I remember the most about Sarah are the good things like when she would dress in her mother’s clothes and high heels and dance to Bach. Or when she would wake up early in the morning and draw pictures of emerald mountains and fiery red suns. Or at nighttime, when she would brush her teeth, she would hum joyous melodies to herself. But what I remember the most about Sarah is that when her auburn hair would hang over her left eye, she looked just like her mother.
I spotted Sarah’s mother for the first time some ten years ago taking in the wild orchids at a nature preserve in northern San Francisco. She was wearing a teal sundress that accented her petite frame and she had a yellow daisy between her right ear and her golden-brown hair. I went up and introduced myself and two years later we were wed on the beaches of Pescadero. I never knew I could be that happy. We had Sarah the following year.
My wife left me shortly after Sarah passed. It must have been too much for her to handle as I have not seen or heard from her in some time. I spent weeks trying to contact her but to no avail; I am in too dark of a place to try to find her now.
From time to time I think about what happened the night that Sarah died. I can remember crying and paramedics and an inhaler that could not be found. I wish I could go back to that day and change something. I would give anything to get my life back to the way it once was.
The sky is completely dark now and I am alone. The only sound I hear is the low tide crashing softly onto the rocky, desolate beach. I have no daughter, no wife, no joy. I am, on all accounts, empty. And with each day that passes I begin to fear that maybe I am the one who has died.
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Great story. Not only did you completely tell the backstory to the event, but I really like the way how the weather reflected the mood of each part of the story. I’m not quite sure how old Sarah was when she died, but the only part of the story I found to be a bit of a stretch was the fact that her face became unclear in the mind of her father. I understand that this part of the story was used to help with some of the more descriptive language in dealing with the things that he did remember, and a good lead in at that, but this part threw me out of the story for a little bit. Not a huge deal, but you might try experimenting with other ways to get to that point.
Great visuals with the rocks below, the seagulls over the water and the description of Sarah herself.
I like that you didn’t follow the ‘rules’ here and end this with some hidden gem found or secret revealed. The reader feels as empty and sad as your character does. Very good. Critiques? Maybe delve more into how he actually felt the day Sarah died instead of just that he remembered crying. Maybe go into little details of how her skin felt or how her cries sounded. Just suggestions, certainly not vital as this is really good as is.
So, this was actually very beautiful. I hadn’t expected there to be as much emotion. For once, there is emotion in a piece I’ve read on here!
Anyway, I loved your descriptions, they seemed to fit in, but the one thing that bothered me was some of the straight-forwardness. I think that in certain places you don’t need to connect the dots—we know it’s there. Connecting it and telling the reader isn’t a good thing, and I felt like your fourth paragraph did that to me.
Anyway, good job, and if you have a question or comment, feel free to drop me a line.
This seemed to draw me into his world as I dangled from every word. I am sorry for his loss and can not begin to imagine how has survived. If, that is, he did survive….he seems to have lost who he was inside. He thinks he might have died. It would be interesting to continue to delve deeper into his mind. Unlock his dark desires now that he has been left a hollow shell.
This piece has potential but I’m afraid I can’t find the focus. I feel like flash fiction needs one storyline and wavering between the two losses, the wife, the daughter, back to the wife, the reader doesn’t really have time to establish a connection. With additional detail this would make for a moving short story.
It was a very sad tale of losing a loved one and I sympathized with the character, but there was nothing about this piece that moved me to my core. Perhaps, it was the lack of details that fail to evoke the right emotional response from me. I think you can dig deeper into what the character is feeling beyond just sadness. Perhaps, anger and betray at his spouse leaving him. Guilt of not saving his daughter. I think this story needs more emotional depth. Good effort! I look forward to reading more.
Some suggestions for a more fluid read:
“I like to pretend that she is still out there, playing in the tide(,) flying her kite( . . .) laughing.”
But no matter what I do(,) nothing can change the fact that I am alone.
When I close my eyes and try to remember(,) all that I see are her indigo eyes, all that I hear is her laughter.
The things I remember the most about Sarah are the good things(,) like when she would dress in her mother’s clothes and high heels and dance to Bach.
I spent weeks trying to contact her(,) but to no avail;
This was an excellent read, man. I could feel his pain.
Bravo.
Good descriptive process. Sad and touching story. Is he the one who died? Is it his soul imagining that he is alive? Just a few of the questions this story brought to mind. Very good job.
It sounds almost like a reflective journal entry of this man… which is quite interesting for what he/ you are trying to show is what he felt in the moments of memories of past and present.. its beautiful in all accounts.. and inflicts a small amount of emotion.. but honestly I think if you take on this character and become more in depth of the pain.. perhaps more on how his wife left him.. and direct feelings from the day of his daughters death I think you would be able to inflict a little bit more. Do keep up the good work.
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