Nightmare of a Drowning Child
My heart nearly bursts. No one else, just he and I, and deep water. His eyes lock on mine, sparkle mischievously as he squats on the bottom of the swimming pool, unconcerned, unharmed though water surrounds him, steals his air. In dreamy terror I slog to save him, dive into the coldness, push my face under the heavy liquid. I reach and stretch again and again until finally I hook his arm and drag him toward the surface. He smiles at me, a cunning smile, and laughs while the bubbles rise to the top. But when he meets the air, his face turns blue, his body slack. Eyes roll back. Mouth hangs open. Killed, it seems, not by water, but by my rescue.
Copyright Candace Simar
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No part of this website may be reproduced
in any means, mechanical or electronic,
except brief excerpts used in critical reviews.