The River by Laura Libricz
Calvin heard Old Man Hayes cough and cuss. Then the screen door slammed followed by the shot from a .22. Calvin knew he was in for it this time. He ran blind towards the sound of rushing water, the smell of rotting fish directing his steps. The recent rains had swelled the river up over its banks. Calvin stopped, wiped the bangs from his sweating brow and tried to find the trail that would lead him to the bridge.
“Stop, ya little bastard! I’m right on yer tail,”...
Published on July 28, 2012 04:36