Flash Fiction Friday: A Quiet Day at the Beach

I'm teaching a short-story class at the senior center just now--primarily providing writing prompts and some conversation about aspects of story-creation. Since a chunk of the class time is spent in writing to the prompts, I'm taking the opportunity to do so along with my students. I had to finish the story at home, but it was fun to sit in a room with other people, all of us scribbling or typing away.

This was my take on one of the prompts... what happens when a superhero needs a vacation. 

A Quiet Day at the Beach

 

Lois stripped off her cape, letting the fabric waft to the floor, heedless of the dust. She could regret that later when she had to clean it. Silly thing to wear, anyway, but it did look cool when she was flying.

She made herself pick it up before she wriggled out of the bodysuit that went with it. Damn, but it was getting hard to keep in shape for an outfit like that, super-powers or no. When the magic powers were handed out they never told you that you’d get old and saggy in places you don’t want to sag. And flying pose took some serious abs, which didn’t just happen like magic either. Major gym time.

Lois managed to get out of the skin suit without snagging it—if she did that, she’d have to take it to Osmond, on whose super-power of fabric repair all the heroes relied—and slid into sweats with a sigh of relief.

Clark found her in the lounge, a drink ignored on the table in front of her while she stared into the fire.

“Something wrong?” Superman always had a kind word for the other heroes, though he was getting too old for much heroing. “You look worn out. Can’t have that, you know.”

“I swear, Clark, if I have to rescue one more young man from the river or off a cliff, I’m going to… just let him die. Can’t those idiots learn to think before they act?”

“They do. The ones that survive learn sense, but there are always more coming.” Clark grinned. “It’s nature, Lois, and half of why we’re here.”

The other half, of course, was to foil the evil machinations of rich super-villains. She’d spent yesterday on the latest version of that problem, which was giving them all the willies. This season’s vile monster was both viler and more tenacious than usual. Thinking about that didn’t help, either.

“I just don’t care, Clark. I’m so tired, I dropped my superwoman utility belt on the floor and didn’t even pick it up. It’s still there, only I sort of might have kicked it under the bed.”

He studied her, his blue eyes still sharp in his gray and balding head. “What you need,” he said after a thorough examination—did his x-ray vision extend to the spirit, or was he just seeing past her sweats to the bulge in her middle that she couldn’t seem to get rid of?— “What you need is a vacation.”

“Superheroes don’t take vacations.”

“Bullshit.” Clark never used to use language like that. He was getting a bit… odd… in his old age. This vacation business, now.

Though come to think of it, where had Spidey been last month? He wasn’t on the assignment roster. And last week Wonder Woman hadn’t been at the general meeting.

“Look,” Clark said with a deep sigh. “This latest mess has everyone working overtime, and you can only do that for so long. I noticed when you came in—you’re flying a little low and your back isn’t straight. Sure sign that you’re worn out.”

“Just don’t you dare say it’s because I’m old,” she flashed. “I was a kid when you were a middle-aged hero, Clark, and I’m a long way from old.”

“Stop at the front desk, Lois,” Clark said, ignoring her. “Ask them for a week at the beach. One without young men.”

“For sure, without young men.” Maybe she would do it. After all, she could keep an eye on things there, maybe rescue a toddler or two to keep her hand in.

#

Forty-eight hours later, Lois lolled in a lounge chair on the pristine white sands of a sparsely-populated beach. The drink in her hand, unlike the one she’d ignored back at Superhero HQ, was getting regular transfers to her interior. A warm glow filled her insides to match the sun’s glow from without, and all was right with the world.

Or was it? That sun was awfully bright, and those children over there didn’t have any sunscreen on. She could always tell. She levered herself from her chair and dug in her bag for the tribe-sized bottle of sunblock she’d been told to bring along. She’d thought it was to protect her ageing skin, but maybe Clara—the receptionist who kept all the heroes organized—had known.

The children properly greased up, Lois was too restless for the lounge chair. A stroll on the beach might be good. She swung her tote to her shoulder and started off. She’d been told she wasn’t to wear the skin suit, cape, or utility belt all week, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave them behind. Now she had to carry them around. Stupid to have brought them.

Twice she interrupted her stroll to pull children from the water just in time, and once she used her super-strength to roll a small whale back into the water before it could die on the beach. Just the right amount of hero work. This vacation was exactly what she’d needed, all right.

That was when she realized that the glow in the sky wasn’t the sun. Dang it, she wasn’t supposed to have to save the world this afternoon! She was on vacation! Let one of the others take care of that.

Who, though? With half the crew burned out and the rest mounting a 24/7 guard over the super-villain, no one was watching the skies. A good squint at the glowing object up there told her there was no time to call HQ anyway.

With a deep sigh, Lois shrugged her tote bag higher on her shoulder and looked around for a cabaña. There weren’t any, only an outhouse. With a still deeper sigh, she trudged up the slope, locked herself in the stinking edifice, and struggled into her costume, regretting three days at the all-you-can-eat buffet.

Did she have time to put on the cape? Better do it. Clark always hinted at big trouble if she left it off. Anyway, it felt good, that thing sweeping out behind her while she swooped through the air, so she anchored it in place. Now, what to do with her tote bag? You could hardly fly around saving the world with a tote bag featuring a silly cat reading a book hanging from your shoulder.

She flew up and hung the tote from the upper branches of a nearby tree. No one was going to steal it there. ID and credit card went into the special pocket on her utility belt.

They never needed that in the old days, but nowadays it was a requirement. You never knew when you’d need to buy some civvies and take a taxi home. Or a jet.

Finally, Lois looked up, took her bearings on the incoming meteor, and launched.

Thirty minutes later, the meteor was on its way back to empty space, and she was stretched out on her lounge chair.

No need to report to HQ. She was on vacation.

 

Rebecca M. Douglass, 2025
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.

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