Friday Fictioneers: River’s Current

 

It’s not grammatically incorrect, I swear! It serves a purpose! I just read If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler, blame Calvino!

 

I feel like I’ve written something like this before. Either that or I just kind of defaulted to this brand of story, the whole “lying for the greater good” kind of story. I mean, it fits well with the limited space so what can I say?

Spaalonebabuguuscooties.

That’s what I can say.

Bonus points if anybody knows where that’s from.

That’s all I got for right now, strangely enough, but next week the show that I wrote and created the concept of will be coming out to Youtube and my campus’ television station, so be ready for that! I’ll be sure to link the episodes here too. I just saw a short preview of what it looks like edited yesterday. And it looks great! As totally unhinged and bizarre as I had hoped.

 

 

Have fun with that and with this~

 


 

 

Image Copyright – Georgia Koch

Image Copyright – Georgia Koch

 

Title: River’s Current

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

 

“You haven’t said anything for a while.”

“I’m thinking.”

“What about?”

“The water. I like being so close to it, hearing it lap against the shore.” His cane thumped up and down, in perfect rhythm with the lapping waves. “Is it still the same shade of blue? Could we go swimming right now if we wanted to?”

The sewage plant down the way had just recently opened its biggest dumping pipes. It was a monstrosity of iron, coagulating the blue waters into brown, grainy sludge. A single dead fish floated past the bank.

“Yes. It’s clear and blue as day.”

 

 

 


 

 

You know what I haven’t written about in a while? Childhood wonder and exploration/adventure. Which is weird, since that’s all I wrote about when I first started doing these Friday Fictioneers. Well it’s time for that to change! I’m going back to form next week!

Even if the picture is of a decaying severed head!

“Ward, dear, didn’t you see what the Beave brought home?”

“Why, it was the head of the young Harrison boy down the street.”

“Yes, he can be such the little rascal sometimes.”

“Haha, yes well, let’s just let him has his fun.”

 

No, I never did really watch Leave it to Beaver.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

END TRANSMISSION.

 

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6 comments on “Friday Fictioneers: River’s Current

  1. ContactRida says:

    i enjoyed this. i pictured blind grandpa with his grandson standing under a huge oak tree with a tire hanging from rope. you would think gramps would smell the sewage but guess he lost that sense too:) great story.

  2. dmmacilroy says:

    Dear Marshall,

    I cannot help but wonder about the blind man’s sense of smell.

    Aloha,

    Doug

  3. Dear Michael,

    The blind man’s companion is a sensitive soul, but like Doug I question his (the blind man) sense of smell. Perhaps he has a bad cold. 😉

    Aside from that, very nicely done.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

  4. Hah – that’s the first thing I thought off too – what about the smell? But nice writing, just the same.
    Claire

  5. Dee says:

    Me too – the smell must have been awful. There is a river in Belgium…. but that’s another story. I love your style and the images you created here, lovely piece of writing.
    Dee

  6. […] as if it wasn’t enough, after the sensory debacle of my last entry about not considering old Grandpa Joe’s nose getting a bead on the river of sludge running by […]

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