Brisk Breezes

Writing exercise for December 16, 2009

The rules are to use the following in the brief story:

Setting: In a lighthouse

Starting phrase for your story: Left to my own devices I probably would

Four words you must include in your story: Sunshine, Handcuffs,King-Size Bed, Orderly

“Left to my own devices, I probably would....” The thought trailed off as she stared over the railing. It was probably a hundred foot drop to the ground, but then the cliff added another couple hundred to the ocean waves below that.

“What was that, Suse?” Susan looked up. Her companion, a bubbly blonde whose back was plastered to a wall of glass, looked a little distressed.

Susan turned around and rested against the lighthouse railing, letting the sunshine flood her face and warm her skin. “I was just saying that if I were left to my own devices I would probably still be sleeping in that big king-sized bed in our room. Can you believe the size of it?”

Missy flashed a brief smile and replied with white lips, “The room is too small for it.”

“But the view is fantastic.” Susan studied Missy for a moment. “You know, if it would make you feel better, I could just handcuff you to the railing. Then you could at least enjoy the view of the ocean.”

Missy held up a hand to ward off any attempt to act on the suggestion. “Um no. I am just fine. Well actually, we could leave, then I would be just fine.”

A brisk breeze whipped across the lighthouse platform suddenly snatching Susan's hat off her head. “Oh no!” She snatched after the hat, but it whisked its way down to the cliff head below. “Come on, Missy!” Susan didn't wait to see if her friend was following her or not. She raced to the door and skidded to a halt. An orderly line of sightseers moseyed their way onto the platform. Once the passage was clear, she clambered down the stairs and out onto the cliff.

“Which way did it go, Suse?”

Susan shielded her eyes from the noonday sun and scanned the air and ground below. She shook her head. “I don't know. Come on. The wind is blowing this way.” She took off along the cliff head, Missy close on her heels.

Tufts of grass peeked from between the pebbly shale. But no hat. “Missy, I don't see—Oh wait! There it is.” She took off again. A scrub of brush held the wayward garment tight in its skelital branches. She reached for it and came away with a man's hand instead. She glanced up startled and was glad to see it was still attached to a living breathing man....