by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy

This is my response to a Writing Prompt from Writer’s Digest Community last year.

GONE SWIMMING: You and a friend break into your neighborhood swim club late one night to go for an after-hours dip. While splashing around in the pool, you go into shock when a dead body floats to the top. Worse yet – it’s someone you know.

It was perfect. I laughed a conquering laugh, having made it to the other side of the fence without getting caught. My limbs showed the light scratches of the chain-link we just scaled, landing on the damp cement with the quiet of a cat burglar. Joanie called me to wait.

Instead I ran full force, leaping into the enveloping wetness. It felt oddly warm for this time of night, this time of year. Perhaps the snow made it welcoming; 65 degrees in winter is much more appreciated than 65 degrees in summer.

Joanie beckoned me to stay in her frantic presence. I refused her again; reveling in the anti-gravity element. I climbed out only for an Olympic-sized belly flop. I welcomed the shattering pain and dove deeper into tumbles and other gymnastics I learned a lifetime ago. It was easy to drift, knowing I couldn’t get far. Until temptation began its slow tingling crawl into my determination. I kicked and pulled away from the buoyancy in a need to feel the boundaries of my surroundings.

The waters overtook me and I found myself floundering, not knowing which way was up or how much further I could sink. I was startled to feel Joanie’s grip on my arm, pulling me into a lighter darkness, away from the depths and into the moonlight. It was colder in the air above. I shivered as Joanie’s terrified eyes glazed. Without turning, I became aware of a presence following me up from the deeper dark: a body rising to the surface.

It was a wreck. Torn, bloodstained clothes. Terrible scrapes and deep, penetrating cuts on its arms and legs. As I concentrated on the ghastly wounds covering its head, Joanie’s grip released and I was sickened to be drifting closer to the mess before me. The bloodwater threatened to engulf me completely.

There was no spasm, no terrible calamity. Just a slow, methodical turn as the body brought its face to sight. I recognized the body, the face, as my own. I looked at my scrapes from the fence. Blood flowed rapidly from nearly every wound. I felt so dizzy. Was I floating? Or falling? I could feel nothing but the collision of my body becoming one with this, my body, in the cold dark waters.

The pool waters turned thick and red. Joanie fell a world away. Was she still reaching? I could no longer feel or hear her. She was quickly vanishing into a vision blurring into a dream. A very dark dream.

Joanie and I, driving in the wet cold; halfway between dinner and doorway. The flakes came at us like we were tunneling through a pillow fight; thick and unique. We celebrated in our excitement.

The fence transformed into heavy, crunching metal as I flew from its grasp into the water turned to blood, my blood.  My body and I collided to welcome each other and sank into the dark tranquility. It was perfect.

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

Afterthoughts
Clipping Coupons, Part II
Sweeten my tea and share: