Emma Louise Smith

The Creek

Emma Louise Smith

It was a rainy day, which wasn’t odd in my town. We didn’t get a lot of natural heat, and the clouds always seemed melancholy above our heads. We had our fair share of frozen-road slush, and you definitely couldn’t survive with only one pair of boots.

I usually walked downstream of the same creek to get to school, jumping in the shallows and marking everywhere with my initials. But today, the creek was higher than usual. The deepest parts—which could only hit my chest— now rose high enough for two of me.

And standing on the edge of the water, a picture of beauty, was a horse. It was wild, rare indeed, and had a shimmering coat. It seemed like the creature had waded through a swamp: it was wrapped in weeds. But its eyes, an unnatural blue-green, were somehow serene.

I walked toward the beast, and it watched my movements carefully. That’s when I had noticed the old saddle, marred by time and sludge. I cleaned the poor thing off and wrung my hands together. Riding it for just a second wouldn’t hurt, right? It was calm, and it seemed like the creature wanted to be ridden.

I hoisted myself up, and in a moment, we were dashing forward. The weeds wrapped around me as we sank, and when my head hit the water, I knew it wasn’t a horse after all. A kelpie, from the old stories, and I had gotten on its back.

Now, when you came in here, I had been down here for a week. It took you your own week to wake up, so that makes it two weeks at the bottom of this new stream. And if they didn’t find me, they are certainly not going to find you. Get ready; we may as well be down here an eternity before they find our bones.

But at least now we have each other’s company. In our quiet, rushing death.

Ode to My Own Time

Emma Louise Smith

I feel as if I am floating in a warm pond. The waves softly crashing into my sides, rocking me into the night. It holds me suspended, and for those hours I could live forever.

I am on a vast and endless stage. My audience watches as I tell the stories from my heart. And for a few crawling hours, I could live in other worlds forever.

I am back during the events of the day. Whispering things that I should have said into the darkness. For a few hours, I relive others, and could be there forever.

Watching the shadows dance around. Waving my arms in the air as if commanding a ship or band. I could teach the light forever, even in a few hours.

But I could barely tell that I sank into sleep. Until I wake up, and yet again I am surrounded. Why must there be other people? Why can I not be nocturnal as my soul wishes? If only I could stay in my bed, talking and thinking for hours on end. If only I could do such a thing forever.

12 WORDS BLED FROM US