Florida Man March 2 Novels & Stories

Spring Break Adventures in Florida The Florida sun was high, and the laughter of tourists filled the air as Sade walked down Main Street in Magic Kingdom with Isla, Madison, Eric, Marcus, and her parents. The energy was electric, but Sade’s focus wasn’t entirely on the magic of Disney—it was on her phone. Every few minutes, her screen lit up with a new notification: Marco: “Look at this meme. Doesn’t this remind you of Dre? 😂” Sade:

It’s as if the sun has dipped behind a thick cloud cover and the sky has gone charcoal. Only they haven’t. It is a bright, unseasonably cool, spring day in Florida. The parking lot is packed, populated by moms and nannies with their kids of all ages on spring break before Easter. I hear laughter, a gull calling; I smell the salt from the Gulf of Mexico. But inside I am quaking. There’s cool black ink in my veins.

“I know, Florida. I'm aware of the consequences. But what can I do? Spencer's got the upper hand now.” Florida's anger turned to contempt. “Useless man!” She muttered, shaking her head. She mumbled a few more insults under her breath before she took out her phone and dialled a number. “Who are you calling?” Florida's expression turned cold. “I'm going to fix this. I'm going to make sure Spencer doesn't ruin everything we've worked for!” She put the phone to her ear, waiting for someone to answer. “Hello, is this Mark? I need a seat on the Good Morning show, ASAP. Yes, it's about the Spencer Anthony story. I have a plan, and I need to go live.”

he says roughly. I sit up and look around. My heart sinks by what I see. The monster is abandoning the truck on the edge of the woods. But in these woods, I can see palm trees dotting the landscape. I know that mean’s were in a southern State, probably one with an ocean. We have not driven far enough to be out west, and the night before we were in Tennessee, so I think we’re in Florida. We lived in Jacksonville for a while when I was nine. It hardly ever got cold there. It’s only March, and the air is warm, so I’m sure we are in Florida now.

FBI agents dragged handcuffed men outside. It was almost over. Almost. Then I saw Marcus. He was limping, and his face was covered in blood, but he was alive. “Are you good?” he called out. “I’m alive,” I called back. He walked over and sat on the floor beside us. As Flora leaned against me, her eyes fluttered closed slowly. I held her close, brushing her hair out of her face. We were safe but not for long. A medic tapped my shoulder. “You need stitches. Come with me.”