The Marsh

The boy sank deeper, swallowed by the murky water.  He fell into the embrace of the murderous liquid, and slowly descended to the bottom. His blood tincturing the brown with red. He had hit his head on a cleat, and tumbled overboard when the man accelerated and propelled the old Dargel forward by accident.

It had been only five months since the man had endured a thoracotomy, an invasive operation to remove cancerous parts of the lung.  Upon the splash on the water, he leaped right in, without hesitation, and in spite of his affliction.

The boy’s flaccid body had come to rest over the thick mud beneath. The man submerged, but could only swim a few feet downwards. He tried, and tried again, opening his eyes below the surface, and through the brown and red  glimpsing the boy’s pale hands dancing with the current.  His lungs begged him upwards, but he pushed himself beyond the limit of pain. Oxygen, a meaningless element when desperation and heartbreak take over. The damaged organs could not withstand the pressure, and imploded into themselves.  The man collapsed, and came to the boy’s side, a victim of the muddy substance as well.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. All your comments are welcome.

Reviews

[Stanley Wilson]

great work

[Laura Storm]

May I start off with wow. I love the description. It is wonderfully written and for only learning English 5 years ago well I grew up knowing it and I can't use it this well. Wonderful piece, hope to see many more to come.

[River Grass]

I'm honored by your comments, Laura. I am genuinely glad you enjoyed it. Long hours of reading Poe, Faulkner, and King, have gone into my ability to use this beautiful language (Seinfeld helped a little too). Expect my comments on your work soon. Thank you.

[RENichols]

Very good. Very tragic.

[River Grass]

Thank you so much. I look forward to reading and reviewing your work.