Photo by Bao Le
THE UNDERGROUND RIVER
Flash Fiction
She stood in the gold of late afternoon, shielding her eyes against the sun, searching up and down the narrow meadow for the stream she knew was there. The autumn light glinted on the blond curls that cascaded down her back as she turned this way and that. Her sister called her Goldilocks. She didn’t look like a killer.
She spotted it at last, a skinny ribbon of water racing along, then diving into the ground. She heard about this disappearing stream when she was five, but never found it before. She smiled as she cupped her hands to drink.
If only she could shrink down and ride that current, that would be the quickest getaway, running blind on an underground stream. It used to be one of her nightmares, her body swept along by a river rushing through a maze of caves, emerging who knows where. But today she was tired of running, and so she thought it probably trickled along pointlessly until it gave out. What was her life now but running away, and a few Mars Bars she found by the road, spilled by careless picnickers.
Only a couple of days ago, she was home, drawing wash water. The well was dry, so she took her bucket to the spring that lay like a black mirror, out back by the live oaks. Below the surface, she thought she saw a shadow move, but it was only her imagination. She carried the water back to the house, where her sister lay on the kitchen floor, a wet pool of blood beneath her head.
She should have been faster with the cleanup. She could hear him coming back for her, like he said he would. Why did she spend that precious time when she should have run away? Simple. She didn’t want anybody to see her sister looking that way. Once she washed the blood and neatened the clothes, her sister looked pretty again.
The first night, she slept behind the neighbor’s barn, in a shed that used to be the hencoop, but was stacked with old furniture now. It kept the rain off. She had a dream about the big spring her family visited in Arkansas, where the water exploded from the ground. If you got too close, the current could sweep you away.
She got up with the rooster and ran, until nothing looked like anything she had ever seen before. There were no more houses, just wide open land sloping downwards, littered with rocks. She picked her way down through stones and gravel, finding little gardens along the way, where flowers poked up looking for the sun. Lichen bloomed in the shadowy overhangs where water seeped. She pulled the rocks away, but couldn’t find enough of a drip to drink.
Night came on. She made it down to a stand of dry pine where the spongy ground was comforting. A couple of squirrels watched her eat her last Mars Bar. She propped her back against a tree, listening to the hoot owl until she dozed.
She dreamed again of that bursting spring in Arkansas, where the water was dying to get out, like she was dying to get out. She had to run, he was coming back to get her. She dropped her sister to the floor and ran at him, waving the knife, and he swore he was coming back for her, too. She saved her sister, saved her by slitting her throat. But now she was tired of running. The water ran faster than she could ever run. There was no end to its running.
That’s where they found her, under the dry pines. When she opened her eyes, she started screaming about waving a knife, and running away. That’s how they knew for sure she had seen the crazy bastard who killed her sister. She broke down in her mother’s arms, and said over and over, “I saved her.” Then she drank a whole bottle of water without stopping to breathe. That’s how it is with people in shock, you never know what they are going to say or do. They explained to her they had arrested the bad man in her house, it was safe to go home now. And they warned her mother the girl was bound to have nightmares for awhile.
THE AUTHOR
Maria Carrera (mcarrera@cox.net) was born in Washington, D.C. She earned a B.A. and M.A. in English Literature, then went into theatre. Most recently, she stage managed at the Old Globe and taught Alexander Technique to actors in conservatory training. She retired in San Diego and took up writing again.Awards and Publication: Peauxdunque Review: Night Music will appear in Issue #6.Night Music is also runner up in the Words and Music Writing Competition 2021.https://peauxdunquereview.com/2021-words-and-music-writing-competition-results/Glimmer Train: Tierra Del Fuego, Honorable Mention, Short Story Award for New Writers 2018 http://www.glimmertrain.com/pages/finalists/2018_09_10_sep_oct_ssa_hm.php
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