R J Hembree - Writers' Village University

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48 with ghostly entities. Arriving at a succession of graves, Rachel bent her knees and extended her arms. The scars in her inner wrist stood out against the pale flesh. When she spread her fingers he thought of the duck swallowed by the pond. “I.” Jump. “Am.” Jump. “Immortal.” Jump! Her left ankle buckled. She tumbled onto the last grave. Her head just missed the gravestone. Bill leapt through the gate, dropped on one knee, and gently probed her ankle. “You’ve sprained it.” Rachel reached out and tapped the marker with her index finger. “Tag, you’re it, Mr. Baxter.” She rolled onto her back and stared at the sky. Shadows drifted like bloated spirits across the irises of her eyes until they glistened like the pond. “The pond drowned my sister,” she said. He took her hand. “It sucked her down.” A thin trail of water trickled from the corners of her eyes, dripped into her hair, and onto the grave. “It ate her feet, then her legs…” He slipped his hands under her, lifted her, and carried her back the way she’d come. “The mud choked her.” “I’m here.” He pushed through the gate and crossed the parking lot. Halting beside the front passenger door, he fumbled with the chrome handle. The door wouldn’t open. “Annie, hit the locks.” “She couldn’t even scream.” “Annie?” “I tried to save her, but the pond wouldn’t let her go.” “Annie, open the damn door!” He banged his knee into the car again and again. Rachel grasped his collar and pulled herself higher against his chest. Placing her other hand flat against his cheek, she turned his face until her lips brushed his earlobe. He felt the gristle of newly healed scars rub against his cheek. “I should have died with her.” The rear door popped open. Annie stuck her head through the opening. She stared at him with reddened eyes. Raucous music blared as she yanked the headphones out of her ears. Her mouth formed a large ‘O’ when she saw him standing beside the car with Rachel in his arms.
“Unlock the doors,” Bill ordered. Annie withdrew her head into the car. The locks in the jeep snapped open. Bill paused to look over at the center of the pond where a patch of utter darkness floated like the pupil of a giant eye. He put his wife into the front seat, buckled her seatbelt, and leaned in so that he could look into her face. “You belong with us,” he said. And taking each of her hands, he flipped them over and kissed her scars. “I will never let you go.” Stepping back, he shut the door on the sight of her damaged wrists. Then, he faced the pond. Twigs and leaves gathered near the shore, pushed there by rings that emanated from the pond’s eye. The ripples nibbled at the shore, taking mouse-like bites out of the soil. As sunlight descended into its vastness, the pond devoured every bit of it. Bill sensed the monstrous depths hidden beneath its dull sheen. “You can’t have her!” he said. Something slapped the tip of his shoe, something that spat droplets over the bottom of his trousers and soaked his socks. He squatted on his haunches, placed his hand upon the ground for balance, and angled his head so that he could see beneath the Jeep. Rank water stained the gravel a deeper gray than the shadows that lay there. It left an imprint that reached out from under the vehicle with long damp tendrils. Bill jerked his hand off the ground. He stared at his palm, frowned, and wiped off the wetness on his trousers. It sucked at her feet, then her legs… “What’s wrong?” Annie demanded from the back as Bill climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. “Buckle up!” he said, over his shoulder. His keys jingled. The engine roared to life. Bill popped the emergency brake and shoved the stick into reverse. He heard his wife panting great gulps of air. “Hold on, Rach.” Keeping his gaze on the pond, he pressed down on the accelerator. The front wheels slipped in the damp soil. Gravel and sand pelted the water. “Bill!” “Daddy!” His wife and daughter shouted. The steering wheel refused to turn in his hands. Bill yanked it back and forth and beat it with his fist, but the jeep wriggled like a fish caught on the end of a hook. The rear wheels dug a trench into the soft base beneath the gravel lot. There was a loud thump. The front end of the jeep dipped and it slid another few inches into the pond. “What the hell was that?” Rachel gasped as the log rolled into view. Her hand dropped onto his thigh and clung there. The wheels had churned the up sludge from the bottom of the pond. A layer of scum appeared, spreading out to the center of pool where the 49
Page 2 and 3: RJ Hembree - Publisher & Editor-In-
Page 4 and 5: 4 She glides slowly at first, this
Page 7 and 8: I am trying to write, to work. I dr
Page 9 and 10: Chicano at a private school in New
Page 11 and 12: give a damn what anyone else thinks
Page 13 and 14: them to some internal revelation wh
Page 15 and 16: Sergio Troncoso, philosopher, econo
Page 17 and 18: ties years ago. It was a scandal, a
Page 19 and 20: disciplines. Do you feel it's a nat
Page 21 and 22: up.” “I’m cleaning! It’s sp
Page 23 and 24: “Have you been taking your medica
Page 25 and 26: was there? “You can’t live a no
Page 27 and 28: In his modest wooden stall Pir Gul
Page 29 and 30: When he was done with the vest, he
Page 31 and 32: On the outskirts of the farming vil
Page 33 and 34: down at him as he walked through th
Page 35 and 36: ight on you.” She still held his
Page 37 and 38: Dear M, I wanted to let you know I
Page 39 and 40: I hope you’re doing well. --K Dea
Page 41 and 42: Dad cried. He sat at his desk, crie
Page 43 and 44: of her jeans. She glanced at the be
Page 45 and 46: the lacquer finish dulled as the wa
Page 47: “Do you think it just gave up and
Page 51 and 52: When I was asked to write an articl
Page 53 and 54: are important. You’ve only got to
Page 55: If you want to earn some serious mo

R J Hembree - Writers' Village University

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