“Lost in Paradise” — FWG Flash Fiction for 3/1/2025
- Rob Johnson
- Mar 7
- 2 min read
When is a getaway a bad idea?
The prompt is:
LOST IN PARADISE
The scene, the sun rising in golden glory over the vast expanse of the ocean, was beautiful. Or, at least, it would have been if Alex had some way to get off the island. The acrid smelling driftwood smoldering in the remains of last night’s bonfire stung his eyes and nose. It also brought back the few memories he had of the night before.
Naomi, the woman he was flirting with at the hotel Tiki Bar, introduced him to her friends. Tommy suggested they take his motorboat out to Maillot Atoll, a tiny island a few miles offshore. A bottle of rum and papayas, pineapples, and kiwis appeared out of nowhere, and they set off with a cooler full of some fruity cocktail. He remembered taking swig after swig from the jug, but couldn’t remember anyone else drinking from it.
A memory of swimming with Naomi in the warm waters of the lagoon came flooding back, but beyond that was a blank wall. He looked around, but, of course, his clothes, watch, phone, and wallet were gone. They’d left him his boxers, at least. He had been the perfect mark—traveling alone, without telling anyone, immediately after his engagement ended.
With a pounding head and berating himself for being so stupid, Alex set off along the beach. When his toe stubbed something, he saw an array of large white shells half-buried in the sand, spelling out “H E L” and part of another letter. Dropping to his knees to dust off the last letter, he gasped. They weren’t shells at all. They were, in fact, skulls, and they didn’t spell “H E L P.” They spelled “H E L L.”
In the only shade on the island, he found a skeleton and added the previous victim’s skull to the message.
THE END
Comments