The OWFI Conference (http://www.owfi.org ) is right around the corner.  If you’ve never been, you should give it a try.  The Keynote Speaker is  Eloisa James – New York Times Bestselling historical romance author. It will be a great 3 day weekend for writers and readers alike.  With that in mind, here’s a little flash fiction to get you in the mood. Enjoy.

 THE HELICOPTER

Through the thick mist on the window of the helicopter, she gazed into the extinct volcano.  It was timeless and magnificent.  The crater that once spewed so much violence, now created ferns nourished by tumbling waterfalls.  Lately, it seemed the sameness of her days ran together like those waterfalls, even as the primal landscape inspired her to accomplish something in life that would be remembered. She was mesmerized by the slow circling of the helicopter inside the crater, and began to see beauty in places she had never seen it before.

She was surprised that morning that he didn’t react to her the way she expected.  His typical anger when he didn’t get his way was not visible.  Maybe she finally got through to him this time when she said, “I want a divorce.”  His face was stoic, no emotion at all.  Maybe he felt   the same way. Could his life need more space too?

She recently felt the need for a hobby that would fill her soul with a useful purpose.  And finally she had found it.  But, since she couldn’t pilot a helicopter like Steve, she would need to be happy to write about it.  And if accomplished well, the hobby would give her back strength ten-fold.  The helicopter seemed to be trying to tell her that with the whop, whop, whop of its blades.

They had argued many times before.  The story was always the same.  He wanted her home when he arrived, not off on some journey of her own.  That attitude was acceptable to her when they were young.  The children always needed her.  However, as she grew older the same thoughts came back. Was this how she wanted to waste her life, tethered to an empty house?

As a young couple, he would take her and the children for rides in the helicopter.  He was an accomplished pilot.  He became one with the machine.  The beauty of the island was intensified when viewed from the air, he would say.  And he was right.  She could almost smell the orchids that hung from the trees as they passed and headed for the north end.  The geography was rougher there, more craggy rocks and less sandy beaches.

He swooped down and brushed the waves with the runners; her heart in her throat.  But she was never frightened when she was with him.  He always brought her back safe and sound after a thrilling ride.  She was almost as addicted to his flying as he was.  The adrenaline coursed through her veins as her chestnut hair swung from side to side with his maneuvers.  She glanced sideways and he was smiling as he always did when he flew.

Rounding the corner of the island close to the cliffs she gasped again at its rugged beauty, with an open smile – eyes wide.  She still wore the same smile as the chopper dove for the water, crashing onto the rocks below.

Can’t wait to see you at the conference!