Paradise Caravan Park
Fiction Short Story
It rained hard flagellating Owen’s flannel shirt as he ran across the main road away from his Holden, the back door left open.
Carloads of people he knew were still on the piss and lazing in the centre parks in the middle of the main street. On it all night, and now the shops starting to open. A car horn toot of recognition aimed in his direction. He ignored it feeling as if he’d been pushed on stage against his will, everyone staring and waiting for him to perform.
To clap or to boo.
To cheer or to condemn.
The gutters flooded with rainwater and the drains couldn’t cope, overflowing the sidewalk. Owen slipped into the puddle wetting the cuff of his jeans. A stain of fury shot up his veined neck and into his hairline. He cursed Meg for leaving him with all the broken pieces. Cursed her for leaving him alive. He reached the awning overhanging the shops where the window displays rarely changed from one month to the next and triggered in Owen a peculiar disorientation.
Everything had been turned on its head yet the world looked the same.
A flash in his mind as he recalled her fair hair as fine as cobwebs flying out behind her as she ran from him. Sand stuck to the backs of her legs and her wet white dress clung to the…
