Unlocked

Elsie's heart sank. The lock on the door hung limp between her finger and thumb. She sighed inwardly. Nothing was safe any more, not even the mundane contents of a beach hut. Harold would have been mad, she thought, red faced and on his soapbox about bringing back the birch. She missed the silly old fool.

She pulled the door outward and felt her heart leap to her mouth.

“Oh my god!”, she exclaimed.

Elsie stood for a moment and pondered.

Then with a hesitant foot she nudged the body of the boy to check if he was still alive.

The same night as Blame, the idea of a Beach Hut was suggested by Emma over msn as another idea for a piece of flash fiction.

I thought on the image of a beach hut and this is what I got this morning.