Beach Party

but not really a party. Just helicopters fighting the way helicopters sometimes fight. There weren’t bartenders of anything along the hilltops. Just clouds. Okay, it wasn’t a bash. There were zero hookups and not any dancing. But there were bullets and smoke. Bullets and smoke did happen. Did occur. And, at some point, a blade fell off one of the Apaches and tore through the surf shack. Which is fine. You know. Because most of the time when I’m writing about helicopters. Or the sky in wartime. Or dog park stuff. I’m actually writing about me and you and how much I hate waiting for this.

Sam Berman is a short story writer who lives in Boise, Idaho. He is also the director of Storyfort, a literary festival held during Treefort Music Fest every March.