Bodies in Water

Fast Flesh Literary Journal/Issue 4 (Conscious)/February 2023

Hilary entered the sparse room, her new home. At the window, fog hovered above the lake. A sailboat lingered from the faded summer, bobbing at water’s edge. A steady white light glowed above the surface, moving with insistent ripples, piercing murky air. Hilary assumed it was some kind of optical illusion, a reflection. She focused on the utter silence muzzling the replaying mind sound of gunshot, body drop. Her hands still shook. She imagined her own form transforming, shimmering, levitating, rising from the mess of remembered old blood, hovering above the scratched wooden floors of the cold room. She turned from the window, tossed her backpack on the bed. This and the clothes on her back, her only possessions…