Welcome to my Friday Feature, in which my Quick Take Tuesday guests regale us with tasty and tantalizing morsels of their work. Feast your eyes on today’s excerpt…
Riversong by Tess Hardwick
She slept fitfully that night and woke late the next morning, hot under her bed covers. The air reeked of smoke. Her sunburned skin stung. She threw back the covers, longing for the feel of water on her scorched arms and legs. She dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt. On her way down the hall she paused in front of her mother’s room, leaning for a moment on the closed door. A bird’s summer song drifted in through the open hall window. Her mother snored softly inside the room. She put her hand on the doorknob to go in like she did every morning but then hesitated. The familiar sadness crept in but she forced the feelings inside, scratching her sunburned arms with her fingernails, drawing blood. The river beckoned to her, as if it called her name. She withdrew her hand from the door and walked away, down the hall and the creaky stairs, all the while hearing a call to the river, knowing that she would not look back again.
In the yard the sky felt long and hazy, different than the day before. She knew it would be a scorcher, unusual for June. She walked the path towards the swimming hole. At the swing, she paused, holding the rough rope between her fingers, wondering what it felt like to fly over the river and then plunge into the mystery of its waters without fear or hesitation. She took the worn path to the water, slipping several times but going on anyway, determined to be brave. At the river’s edge, she inched in, her overheated skin shocked at the cold. When the water reached her shoulders she moved her arms in a circular motion, pretending to swim, keeping her feet anchored to the sandy floor. Then she bent her knees, closing her eyes and submerging her head under the water. She stayed like that with her eyes scrunched closed until the coolness seeped in through her skin and reached the place inside her where hope and despair lived side by side. She imagined the pain of her childhood diminishing to flecks of ice. Her feet came off the ground and she opened her eyes. She was floating. Her hair streamed out in front of her as her t-shirt ballooned around her body like a safety device, bubbles escaping from her shorts. The gray floor of the river hosted several red crawfish and a school of minnows swam around her. Infinitesimal specks of fluorescent algae drifted through the water, illuminated by the pelting sunlight. She felt triumphant. She was refreshed, cool at last.
She slept fitfully that night and woke late the next morning, hot under her bed covers. The air reeked of smoke. Her sunburned skin stung. She threw back the covers, longing for the feel of water on her scorched arms and legs. She dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt. On her way down the hall she paused in front of her mother’s room, leaning for a moment on the closed door. A bird’s summer song drifted in through the open hall window. Her mother snored softly inside the room. She put her hand on the doorknob to go in like she did every morning but then hesitated. The familiar sadness crept in but she forced the feelings inside, scratching her sunburned arms with her fingernails, drawing blood. The river beckoned to her, as if it called her name. She withdrew her hand from the door and walked away, down the hall and the creaky stairs, all the while hearing a call to the river, knowing that she would not look back again.
In the yard the sky felt long and hazy, different than the day before. She knew it would be a scorcher, unusual for June. She walked the path towards the swimming hole. At the swing, she paused, holding the rough rope between her fingers, wondering what it felt like to fly over the river and then plunge into the mystery of its waters without fear or hesitation. She took the worn path to the water, slipping several times but going on anyway, determined to be brave. At the river’s edge, she inched in, her overheated skin shocked at the cold. When the water reached her shoulders she moved her arms in a circular motion, pretending to swim, keeping her feet anchored to the sandy floor. Then she bent her knees, closing her eyes and submerging her head under the water. She stayed like that with her eyes scrunched closed until the coolness seeped in through her skin and reached the place inside her where hope and despair lived side by side. She imagined the pain of her childhood diminishing to flecks of ice. Her feet came off the ground and she opened her eyes. She was floating. Her hair streamed out in front of her as her t-shirt ballooned around her body like a safety device, bubbles escaping from her shorts. The gray floor of the river hosted several red crawfish and a school of minnows swam around her. Infinitesimal specks of fluorescent algae drifted through the water, illuminated by the pelting sunlight. She felt triumphant. She was refreshed, cool at last.
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