'The Beachcomber’s Daughter' by Karen Jones

My eyes sift sand, shingle and silt for signs of her.

Sometimes I see her on the carousel, hair flying out behind her, a candyfloss held tightly in one hand, the reins of her horse clutched in the other, her face serious, as though she’s really in control.

Or I see her paddle in the sea, dress tucked into her knickers, socks and sandals abandoned to their fate, jumping in mock surprise as cold water ripples over bare feet.

If I hold a shell to my ear I hear her skip, dance, sing a soft siren song of selling seashells on a shore I’ve never seen.

I feel her tugging at my hand and my heart, begging me to build castles we both know won’t stay any longer than she did.

Too early, too small, too ethereal.

I look out to sea, then back to the carousel. Will she come to me by water or revolution? Will she have seaweed between her toes or candy floss in her hair? Will she find me, or leave footprints in the sand for me to follow?

I’ll wait, watch, catch, hold onto her, and this time I’ll never let go.

 

---

Karen Jones is a flash and short story writer from Glasgow, Scotland. Her flashes have been nominated for Best of the Net, Best Micro Fiction and The Pushcart Prize, and her story Small Mercies was included in Best Small Fictions 2019 and BIFFY50 2019. In 2021 she won first prize in the Cambridge Flash Fiction Prize, Flash 500, Reflex Fiction and Retreat West Monthly Micro and was shortlisted for To Hull and Back, Bath Flash Fiction, Bath Short Story Award and longlisted for Fractured Lit Flash Fiction Prize. Her work has been published in numerous anthologies and magazines. Her novella-in-flash, When It’s Not Called Making Love is published by Ad Hoc Fiction. She is Special Features Editor at New Flash Fiction Review.


'The Beachcomber’s Daughter' was first published by Reflex Fiction in 2018.