Hi all!
I just love that new feature on SOL where all reader comments of all stories are listed all together. I makes sure I don’t miss a comment of any of the 15 stories listed.
Boy—did I really write fourteen and a half stories? One million, five hundred forty-six thousand, three hundred and sixty words. The number hangs in my mind like a distant echo, too large to grasp all at once. Each sentence, each paragraph, each sleepless night stitched together into something vast and quietly overwhelming. I can almost feel the weight of it in my bones—the long hours, the flicker of a screen in a dark room, the way the world shrank to ink and imagination.
I need a rest.
Not the kind of rest where you simply close your eyes and wake up to the same walls, the same routine—but a true escape. Somewhere far removed from deadlines and blinking cursors. Somewhere the air itself feels different.
A tropical island, lost in the endless blue of the Pacific Ocean. The kind of place where time dissolves into the rhythm of waves. I picture it vividly: sand so white it glows under the sun, soft as powdered sugar beneath bare feet. The ocean stretches out in impossible shades of turquoise and deep sapphire, its surface calm and glassy, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of a gentle breeze.
The horizon blurs into the sky, a seamless gradient of blue that feels almost unreal. Palm trees sway lazily, their shadows dancing across the shore like whispers. The scent of salt and warm coconut drifts through the air, mingling with the distant hush of the tide rolling in and out.
I’m lying back in a weathered wooden chair, the kind that creaks softly as you settle into it. In my hand, a cool glass beaded with condensation—something bright and orange, glowing like a captured sunset. A tiny paper umbrella leans at an angle, playful and unnecessary, while a slice of pineapple clings to the rim, golden and sweet.
The first sip is slow. Cold. Refreshing in a way that feels almost like relief itself.
No word counts. No unfinished chapters. No pressure to create.
Just the sound of the ocean, the warmth of the sun, and the quiet, well-earned stillness after a long journey of words...
Poof, the dream ends. Someone voted a 5. A freaking FIVE!
Here is chapter 7 of “Let the river run.”
Enjoy.
Goodbye 4 now!
Jody.
(2026-04-09, 07:30 SAST.)