No!  Of course it wasn’t him.

He was dead…buried not more than a few yards away.  I could turn to my right and see the disturbed clods of earth that lay atop his body…had I wanted to…

But I couldn’t cross the river, I knew that.  It was deep with spring runoff, choked with tree branches and detritus of all kinds.  Its current exerted a powerful pull on my legs even where I stood, less than a foot into its body.

If I tried to cross, I might make it…but it’d be more likely that I’d be swept downriver or drown in the attempt.

I stood there, both the water and Hector urging me, tugging at me to come deeper.  To break their hypnotic effect, I scrubbed my eyes angrily with the heel of one hand, and phosphenes swam in the air before me, sparkling and nauseous.

But when I opened them again, the shape was still there…except that it had moved slightly…ever so slightly…just a tilt of its head…and my heart expanded until I felt it press against my ribcage, as if it might burst through.

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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. :)