The River

Joesephine was nearly unconcious, waiting for death when she felt Brandon’s outstretched hand clutch at her shirt, and she was both relieved and terrified. Josephine tried to scream a warning, anything, but the icy water reduced her screams to weak bubbles. She felt herlself being thrown bodily into the rowboat by Brandon and grasped at the peeling paint with numb fingers. Josephine fell bodily into the small vessel and smacked her head on the bottom with a hollow thud. As she coughed up water, she turned immediatly to pull Brandon out of the icy water.

Josephine tried to call out a warning, but her lips and tongue refused to respond. Brandon smiled up at her out of the water, shivering as he clutched the rope.

A flash of silvery gray.

A triumphant smile transformed by confusion.

A sudden yank.

A red stain spreading in the icy water.

As the boat rocked drunkenly in the quiet morning, Josephing curled in the bottom of the boat, stunned. Tears mixed with saltwater as the river guided her downstream.

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