Flash Fiction Day 13: Spectre.

 Prompt: A hungry ghost, a holiday, ice cream.

The sweltering heat of summer afternoons, the heavy air, and the merciless sun of a tropical island make it hard to walk. It’s still something the tourists seek, miles away from their wintery, cold homes. We, locals, are used to the high temperatures and humidity, and we’ll often be drinking hot tea at three o’clock with freshly fried snacks. I’m not sure what the day is; I believe it’s a public holiday of some sort. Strolling down the beach, I have a hard time thinking about what I have been doing recently. I take it as a sign that my work leave is going well. The sound of the waves gently splashing onto the beach and rolling away is soothing. I feel the hot sand between my toes, and when it gets too hot, I wade into the salty water to cool down a little. Laughing children spray each other with water guns, dogs chase each other on the beach, and sandpipers grace us with their delightful song. In the midst of all the noise, I hear an ice cream truck in the distance. Now that I think of it, I’m quite hungry. I begin walking in the direction of the jingle, already tasting sweet red jelly and coconut over vanilla ice cream. I blink.

Strolling down the beach, I have a hard time remembering what kind of ice cream I ended up getting. I can hear the truck jingle behind me, but my fingers are not sticky. I step on a piece of coral and glance down. The ocean water looks pale and cerulean through my feet, and, for a brief moment, I remember. I blink.

Now that I think of it, I’m quite hungry.