The Fern (Portrait #5)

By John Everett Millais
By John Everett Millais

This stream is the coldest my hands have ever touched. If there is a bottom to its shallowness, I can’t find it. The water seems so damned clear, too clear. I think I should be able to see, but I can’t. It must be the water’s rush against the rocks that makes it to see even the reflection of the sky.

This stream leads to a river. I can feel it. Its mouth is trapped behind the forest. I swear if I touch that mouth it would sear my hands. But, I don’t know this to be true. It’s good I keep numbed, unable to feel the pebbles disturbed below.

I read the movement of the water. I can understand only so much of it before it gets lost. Perhaps, the writer is confused and has lost the sense of its direction. That’s an easy thing to do with something that is so cold and full of stones.

Sometimes I think I’m asleep. The stream has that affect. But, I know I’m awake. Movement catalogued, as if all is perpetually still and nothing lost track of. The story keeps me sane.

Bits of me join the stream. At times, I think I am part of the stream, both of us searching for the mouth. I never feel like the bits are lost. They are always reading, always reading.

By Harold Gaze
By Harold Gaze

 

 

 

 

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22 thoughts on “The Fern (Portrait #5)”

  1. I love the Ophelia picture. I came close to using it on my first website (now expired). Great use of it.

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  2. Ok Elan, you are inspiring me to try to write a gothic story… or at least a chilling one. Loved this this.

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  3. Your relation to the stream is refreshing. I have found flash fiction to be a daunting undertaking. Thank you for providing an example as to how it should be done. Also, thank you for visiting!

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  4. Your style is unique compared to other folks I’ve read stuff from.
    Thanks for posting when you have the opportunity, Guess I’ll just book mark this web site.

    Like

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