The Drowned and the Drowning

She stood in a puddle in the centre of the bridge, her umbrella blown inside out. Perhaps the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen, she was also the most bedraggled. Other people stomped on by spraying water in all directions, some workers, some spenders, some lovers, some freaks and not one offered her help.
The girl, forlorn to the point of devastated, brushed aside auburn locks that swept straight back into her alabaster face and wept. Like a naiad, she looked to haunt the puddle she stood in unable to move away, unwilling to leave, too sad to even raise her head. Somehow, it seemed more than a bad day, worse than the weather, an accumulation of that thing we call life and she just couldn’t take anymore.
I had to do something. Pivotal moments are few and far between in life, always important, and I feared if she went unaided the girl might never recover.
This was my time. So, I concentrated with all my might just as the others had taught me and tapped her on her jacketed shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
She snapped from her trance like a fish before a shark, looked right through me, screamed and ran.
It made me glad to scare her so, to make her realise there were worse things in life. That jumping wasn’t the answer.
I wished someone had done that for me.

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34 thoughts on “The Drowned and the Drowning

  1. Richard, I have no idea where your stories come from, but in ALL Honesty, you NEVER cease to amaze me. The power behind this..Definitely reblogging. Thank You! Incredible.

  2. Great story. Perfect descriptions, really well done.

    “Like a naiad, she looked to haunt the puddle she stood in unable to move away, unwilling to leave, too sad to even raise her head.”

    Is one of the best lines I’ve read in a while.

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