Across the water, something glistened. Had he finally found it?
Racing, stumbling through waves, he slipped. The water dragged him under. He kicked and thrashed for an age.
Ever sinking, tired now. He’d searched for nothing.
A voice, otherworldly and infinite, reached him beneath the river’s roar, “fight, human.”
One final moment, through agony, he gave his last, then stilled.
He gasped, heaved painfully. Air?
He’d finally found it, waiting nearby, whole worlds glistening within. He touched it. It thrummed, infinite, otherworldly. Impressed? Shoulders squared, he disappeared with it, leaving his world behind.
After-all, he hadn’t fought for nothing.
© 2021 Rebecca Glaessner
September 30: Flash Fiction Challenge « Carrot Ranch
In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story uses the phrase, “across the water.” It can be any body of water distant or close. Who (or what) is crossing the water and why? Go where the prompt leads!
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