River of Time (A Ghost story)

    It was hot, sweltering, thunderously hot, her shirt stuck to the sweat running down her back.The two dogs walked ponderously at heel, too hot even to chase rabbits through the bracken and brambles. All of the  forest was quiet, the heat having even beaten the cicadas into silence.

   Reaching the bridge over the gorge she left the marked track and dropped down onto the bank, taking off her boots she walked up the riverbed, cooler down here out of the suns reach. She followed the river for about half an hour then climbed out onto a  flat grassy area. This used to be a railway settlement, many years ago the railway line went through this pass until  they built the tunnel. There used to be houses, shops, a school, coal yards, engineering workshops, a whole community, now gone except for the outline of the tennis courts and the swimming hole in front of what was the school house.

              She stripped off, for no-one came here but her, and dived into the river, six lazy strokes down stream and eight back up against the current, the dogs lay sprawled in the shallows and watched.

          Tired she climbed out of the water and towelled herself dry, took a bottle, a piece of fruitcake and two dog biscuits out of her pack, she threw the biscuits to the dogs and settled down with her back to a tree trunk, listening to the sound of the river as she ate her cake.

         She awoke with a start, she could hear voices, adults, children, boys mainly bragging and shouting, smell woodsmoke, hear a billy coming to the boil. Then suddenly a scream

  "Lilly's gone under"

Without pausing to think she covered the short distance to the edge of the swimming hole in three long strides, dived in and swam its length feeling along the bottom, she came up for air by the weir and looked around for help and realised there was no one there, the forest was silent.

 No children, no camp fire, no billy boiling, just two dogs looking quizzically at her.

         Dusk was falling, the heat was leaving the air, a bell bird calling and the forest sounds returning, she realised she needed get moving and at least get back on the main path before dark. Swinging her pack back on she headed up river, something in the water caught her eye, shinning like a frozen sunbeam. She bent down and fished it out of the river, a pale pink gingham ribbon, faded and frayed.

   And then, somewhere beneath the susurration of cicadas she hears the voice of a girl child, swimming down the waters of time and laughing as the river gods try to steal the ribbon from her hair.