Here are the rules for the 3rd challenge:
Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:
- that it’s morning,
- that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach
- that the MC (main character) is bored
- that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting
- that something surprising happens.
“Couldn’t you have found another program?” Liz rested her chin on her knees as she drew them to her chest. With her finger, she swirled the black sand at her feet.
Patterns of chaos mimicked the pinks and purples that bled from the sky into the water. The first sun was about to peek over the horizon. Liz watched as the water swelled across the distance, gaining momentum but not height, until it tingled their feet and fizzled away her marks. A small sigh escaped past her lips.
A BUZOT! from behind made them both jump to their feet. A thin stream of white smoke filtered through the sand dune, exposing a control panel. Salt mixed with burnt sulfur danced at the back of Liz’s throat and almost made her gag.
“Synbatec westopaneer tacise?” Matt shook his head.
“What?” Liz cocked her head and scrunched her brow.
“Synbatec westopaneer tacise?” Matt’s face began to flush. He fidgeted with the silver plate embedded behind his right ear. As his finger slid over the plate, the hologram squelched and flickered. He clapped both hands around his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fheskkha!”
Liz knew that pain all too well. Her universal translator was always on the fritz.
“Here, let me.” Liz scooted closer and took her tiny sonic screwdriver out of her belt. It clicked on and a blue light coursed with the high pitch whirl. She touched it to the plate behind Matt’s ear. “Now, keep talking.”
“Synbatec westopaneer tacise? “Synbatec westopaneer tacise?”
Liz upped the pitch of the screwdriver as Matt continued. “Synbatec westopaneer tacise? Will you westopaneer tacise?”
“Almost got it.” Liz hit the screwdriver against the palm of her hand.
“Will you westopaneer me?”
Liz added a second frequency and the screwdriver sung.
“Will you marry me?”
300 words, excluding the title. I think I've covered all 5 senses. Did you know they were on a beach? It was morning? Could you tell Liz was bored? At first at least? And did you notice the stench behind them? And how about that ending? Was it a surprise?