Night Swim

The lifeguard closed the door to the hut, then latched it with the salt-rusted padlock. As he stepped on the wooden planks down to the cooling sand, he heard a brief scream that bounced off the surface of the water, half-muffled by the waves. Turning his head toward the horizon, he saw a family near the pier, bobbing in the water. Then a second scream.

He unlocked the hut, and used the radio to call in a possible distress situation. He flicked off his flip-flops, then raced down the sand toward the people. As he approached, a lifeguard UTV came racing towards him. Together they ran into the darkening water to pull the family of four out of the surf. The sun depressed beneath the horizon, orange flickers disappearing from the waves as the family coughed up saltwater.

No. 150

Companion

The riverbank sloped down to the water. I stood barefoot in the grass, morning dew caressing my feet. Lifting the rod above my head, I loosen my grip and cast the line into the water, sending ripples outward to either bank. A moment of calm—I hold my breath and listen: the cry of a bird, the croak of a frog, the lapping of the water against the bank. A cloud above moves, and the sun illuminates the opposite bank. Across the river, I see them: a pair of yellow eyes in a skull of scaly skin. I leave the line in the water and hold my breath again.

No. 129