Swim

Submerged in icy murk he thrashed in wild panic as his father barked orders from the boat. The storm had torn their little fleet of dinghies from the moorings, ripping cleats and scattering boats across the river. He reached up and grabbed the stern where he had been sitting moments earlier and pulled closer, shivering as the top of his body left the freezing water. ‘SWIM’ the oar cracked across his fingers with agonising pain. He had no time to feel it, as he fell back and sank below, a small cloud of blood disappearing in the ripples. Filthy, thick salt water rushed up his nose and down his throat, his body contracting around his broken hand sending him spinning under the water. The anger built from his hand and empty belly, teeth gritting and cold numbing his senses. He kicked.


Advertisements

About Roy Smith

Roy Smith lives in the Medway Towns, where he works with young people and spends a lot of time writing nonsense and enjoying himself. Most of his writing happens at night and other inconvenient moments, when he is regularly interrupted by his dog and the desire to play old video games.

4 responses to “Swim”

  1. Peter says :

    Sorry to leave this here, Roy but I seem to have misplaced your contact details.

    I can’t make it to the New Arts Centre today. Sorry about that. Hopefully see you Monday.

  2. Marilyn says :

    This is a great short story. It’s very visual, good work.

    I’ll add your link to my blog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: