Quiet River (A Flash Fiction)

from http://www.mccullagh.org/

We sat by the moist land near the rushing river.

Her gold necklace mocked us from below—the current never dragging it away from our view. It had a sentimental value to her—given by her stepfather. I suddenly trembled.

“I am afraid to get it,” she said “the water seems cold. It might freeze my hand.”

“I will try.” But she grabbed my wrist.

“Do not! You might go with the current!”

I slowly detached my wrist from her hold and averted my eyes to the river. “But what if I want to?”

And, then, it was quiet.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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