He was there, just across the winding river, no more than 30 feet away on the edge of the opposite bank. I could just make him out, like a dark ghost backlit against the sun.  He seemed to be sitting, directly facing me, unmoving.

I stumbled down the bank, clawing at the raw, wet earth, barely able to see through the twilight and my tears.  Coming to myself as the cold river water spilled into my shoes, soaked my socks.

I couldn’t see his eyes, but I felt their pressure on me.



I took another step into the river, my shoes squelching in the mud, the water coming up to my shins.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)