Dark Waters

A night on the bayou.

 

The sun shone its final light against the spanish moss of the cypress trees, casting shadows across the still water. Twilight had come. The air was thick with the memory of the day, the cries of the living had passed and all was still.

Deep within the dense watery forest of the bayou, a ripple of water broke the silence. The front of a small row boat slowly wove through the underbrush. A stern hand patiently guided the oar through the water.

When can a life be so measured as to cost the weight of a soul? Tell them!

“Shut up!” The oar lifted out of the water, as the boat drifted into a nearby tree. “Leave me alone.” His voice shook as he nervously looked at his feet. This would have to do, there was no other way. Too much could be lost.

Don’t do this. Show your face.

His face was the face of an angel his mother used to say. She had forgotten most of the world now as she sat at Pinecrest Acres staring out of an old window; her eyes, sad and hollow; unforgiving of the passage of time.

“Leave mama outta this,” he blurted angrily. He shifted in the boat seat and slowly pulled his hands toward his face. His eyes rolled back as he smelled his fingers sending tingles down his spine. His head tilted back. “Mmm,” he moaned to himself like a lion smelling fresh prey.

The darkness of night crept over the water like a cold blanket. A flashlight was flicked on and set on the floor of the boat. He carefully leaned forward.

What was her name?

“Who cares,” he muttered growing impatient. “Leave me alone.”

Say it! What was her name?

He sat back down in the seat and held his head in his hands. “It… doesn’t matter”.

            She had a name. She had a family. What was her name?

A scream from far away shook his thoughts. Blood crept in his soul; a broken body, a shaken spirit begging. He slowly lifted his head as a smile crossed his face, “Her name… was Marie.” A dark hunger filled his eyes.

He leaned forward and grabbed the body now wrapped in an old burlap sack. It was tied at the head and ankles with a thick rusted chain. Fastened to the chain was a heavy cement brick. He slowly hauled the sack over the side of the boat and watched as it slunk into the dark waters. He lit a cigarette and tilted his head back. “So long Marie,” he casually smirked to himself and flicked the half finished cigarette into the water where she was sinking.

            Tired he picked up the oar and pushed off a nearby tree. Slowly his form faded into the darkness.

Reviews

[SR Urie]

Well written. I hope your imagination doesn't run away with your actions.

[James Watts]

Nice work. I would expand on this. Run with it.

[Maudie]

I enjoyed the imagery of the bayou at sunset. I also liked parts that seemed to have multiple meanings "the air was thick with the..." could also be interpreted as "the air was thick," since it is so humid on the bayou! And that sentence also was a precurser into learning of the murder, so it had three meanings.

Keep up the good work!