His Haunted Heart
“I’d seen the girl—in the water.
Her white dress remained and she’d stayed the age of the plump toddler, sweet-faced, with rounded cheeks and baby knuckles.
Until the vision was no longer a vision.
Toddler transformed into woman, reaching out from the depths with arms as cold and clammy as a dead fish. She reached for my throat. And murder lay in her eyes.
Her battle cry still blasted in my ears.
Hands were felt on my neck as real as Porter’s as he attempted to contain my shu...dders.
I’d gone over to the pond just to rinse my hands of the dust that clung to my palms. Never did I image what awaited me beneath the truth of the surface.
No, no, I was wrong.
I began to excuse the floating image at once recalling my shot nerves from the morning’s drama.
That must’ve been it.MoreLess
Her white dress remained and she’d stayed the age of the plump toddler, sweet-faced, with rounded cheeks and baby knuckles.
Until the vision was no longer a vision.
Toddler transformed into woman, reaching out from the depths with arms as cold and clammy as a dead fish. She reached for my throat. And murder lay in her eyes.
Her battle cry still blasted in my ears.
Hands were felt on my neck as real as Porter’s as he attempted to contain my shu...dders.
I’d gone over to the pond just to rinse my hands of the dust that clung to my palms. Never did I image what awaited me beneath the truth of the surface.
No, no, I was wrong.
I began to excuse the floating image at once recalling my shot nerves from the morning’s drama.
That must’ve been it.MoreLess
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