Ficlets

The fragrance of the mighty river’s mud, fish and cool water on the wind, she stood on the hilltop with her eyes closed.

A cold hand touched her back. She hadn’t heard the crunch of footsteps through the leaves.

She whirled, eyes wide, the world around her receding into background and the smell of the river fading to mud and decay.

Familiar grey eyes greeted her, absent of the passion from the night before. Dark brown hair slid down his forehead and tangled with his lashes.

His touch, electric in the night, dead in sunlight, centered on her chest and pushed.

Arms flailed…reaching…grasping…nothing. The river’s scent wrapped around her. The water welcomed her. The mud clung, drawing her deeper long after her head sank beneath the surface.

Her only thought was that she should have killed him first.