The Boy beamed as his Mother carefully placed the cool rocks into the pockets of his shorts, smiling when they clacked together. He gazed across the loch, the pink sky growing golden as the tired dawn stretched behind the distant mountains.
Mother lifted her dress above her ankles as she stepped into the water, releasing it when she was knee-deep. She turned to look at her Boy, who was waiting at the edge, inching closer with tentative steps. She raised a hand, gesturing for him to follow. He drew a sharp breath as he waded into the cold water and stopped walking when it reached his waist. The back of his Mother’s dress floated on the surface behind her and he reached out to hold it.
She smiled and leaned backward, letting the water catch her. She was then only exposed from the collarbone up, like a stone bust looking to the sky. The water reached the Boy’s chest and for the first time, he felt the weight of both the cold and the stones in his pockets.
She plunged beneath the surface, a trail of tiny bubbles fizzing from her long hair. The Boy stared at the disturbance, in awe of the distorted image below.
She moved like a pale ribbon beneath the blue glass, swirling and swaying with the silent breaths. The Boy dipped his head under, his eyes immediately meeting hers.
Mother smiled and raised her arms, inviting her Boy to take her hands. He reached out to touch her fingertips when he noticed another body swaying nearby. An elderly looking woman with piercing blue eyes watched them from the deeper water. Mother followed his gaze and acknowledged the woman with a look of joy.
Mother moved further out toward the woman, who opened her arms to receive her. Another figure emerged from the deep, an older man with the same sharp blue eyes. He smiled and joined the women, as more figures materialised gracefully from the darker blue. The Boy looked to his Mother, who had her arms outstretched, encouraging him to come closer and silently assuring him that he did not have to fear anymore.
The Boy reached his arms to her and made his way forward, but before he could join her, a pair of hands grasped his shoulders, the fingers digging into his armpits. They lifted him clear of the water and quickly carried him back to the shore.
The Boy struggled against the strong arms that now embraced him, longing desperately to be with the others – safe beneath the rippling blue vastness.
Jakob Angerer has been writing short stories and poetry since childhood. He cites nature and melancholy as his main inspirations.
Photo by Amy Lister on Unsplash.
