Black Static #61 (November-December 2017) by 2017 Nov-Dec (retail) (epub)

Author:2017 Nov-Dec (retail) (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror Fiction & Film
Publisher: TTA Press
Published: 2017-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

***

Alex didn’t come round. I sat up the rest of the night with the dregs of the wine and watched the moon carve a path across the kitchen window. Jess phoned a few times and left messages that I didn’t listen to after the first few tearful seconds. My shame at how I’d treated her vied with my anger at her mere presence in my life. I hadn’t asked for her attention and the dangers it brought with it. I’d only ever wanted to be left alone.

When the sun lifted itself from the horizon, rinsing the sky pink and peach, I sent Jess a text message asking her to meet me at the moorings. I drank more coffee to rouse myself from the numb fatigue that cloaked me and changed into dry clothes. My stomach was cramped and sore, sharp spasms of pain gripping and releasing me periodically.

I walked with the dawn to the river and the canoes moored there. I was ready with the paddle, broken padlock thrown in the bin, when Jess arrived. Her face was swollen from crying but shining with pathetic hope. She didn’t question me, just climbed quickly into the seat in front of mine as if scared I’d change my mind and tell her to go home.

The river was full and flat with a rising tide. We swung out from the shelter of the jetty and into the slow current, me working the paddle to steer us between the moored fishing boats, past Bert slinking against her rope and then onwards, threading between the bobbing buoys. The village as we slid through it was silent and emptied of human life. A gull stood on the roof of one of the skew of cottages that flanked the green. A lone dog cocked its leg against a bin and watched us with idle interest. Crows scrabbled in busy murmuration, racing over our heads from their night’s roost to their day’s feeding ground.

The canoe was harder to manage than the longboat, unused as I was to facing forwards and using the paddle on both sides. Jess sat still and balanced on the centre of her seat, elbows tucked into her waist and back stiffly straight. We didn’t speak at all, even when a kingfisher flung itself like a chain of jewels across our path and raced its own brilliance to the other side of the river. The morning grew around us: lightening the tucks and folds of the bank; laying itself across the water in glittering patches that I broke apart as I stroked us away from the village and towards the gorge. Even with despair unfurling so close to the surface of me I took an awed pleasure in it all, in the river’s constant ability to reveal itself anew every time I looked at it.

As we neared the gorge Jess finally spoke, turning her head slightly so that I could hear her words, but not looking directly at me. It felt as though we were in a form of confessional: neither of us seeking eye contact while she whispered her secrets.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.