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The wind whipped into his face as he stood on the cliff top. Frank took a deep breath. He never tired of the smell of the ocean. Just as well, living here. He closed his eyes. Man, that was good. He could feel the salt from the ocean attacking his skin.
Dot would have made sure he moisturised when he went back inside.
“I don’t want to be living with no wrinkled old prune,” she would say, taking the pot down from the mantelpiece and handing it too him with a frown. “Go wash your face, Frank, and put this on.”
He smiled, remembering how he would complain and make a fuss.
“If any of the boys could see me,” he would shout from the bathroom. “They’d be laughing ‘til they crapped themselves!”
“And you can wash your mouth out, too Frank Stiller! No need to bring that vulgar language into my house!”
And then he would walk back into the kitchen and Dot would take one look at him and laugh.
“You’re s’posed to rub it in, you big oaf!” she would say, eventually, when she’d stopped laughing. “Look at that! You’ve gone and put too much on! Come here,” and she would take his face in her hands and gently rub the cream into his skin. “You look like a ghost,” she would say.
Frank took a deep breath. He sure felt like a ghost, sometimes. Since Dot had passed, everything seemed so pointless. Out here alone, for weeks at a time. The lighthouse was automated, these days and didn’t require much maintenance. And the bar was only opened the weeks the researcher boys came from the mainland. And, it seemed to Frank, that that was less frequent than before.
He dared say that they wouldn’t replace him, when he retired.
He stood on the edge of the cliff and looked out across the water, the light sparkling on the water. He let the wind and the ocean spray beat him, reminding him he was alive, and then turned and slowly walked back to the house, to moisturise his face.
Some more of my short stories
Don’t read this if you have mother issues.
A man is on a journey. But why?
Not sure I'd want this power...
A relationship ends
A man shows off his purchase to his less than enthusiastic wife
A wannabe writer struggles to get the space he needs
Two people work together to try to get to the “treasure”
Very short stories (stories told in exactly 50 words)
“When Rhyme Is A Crime”
Theft, murder, bad rhymes...
An ill man at a dinner party. What could go wrong?
“What did they know?”
Just a holiday romance?