Five Stories for the Dark Months by Katherine Traylor Page B

water falling from a dusty
pump.
    “Time slips by so
quickly, you see.” Helen looked vaguely sheepish, as if she’d left
a window open or forgotten to pick up the dry cleaning. “I only
meant to take a few months, but I got too carried away… You
were very enthusiastic, you know.” She flashed him the conspiratorial
smile that had so engaged him at the café… had it been the night
before? Or a decade ago? “And I get so hungry ,” she went on wistfully. “You
have no idea how hard it is—finding someone who’ll come along
willingly, then stopping before too much time has gone. Sometimes I
just get…” she shrugged girlishly, “lost in
time.”
    Giving Paul’s shoulder an
encouraging pat, she opened the door. The hall beyond was blank and
anonymous—they might have been anywhere in the city. “I think your
odds are good, though. In the grand scheme of things, ten years
really isn’t that that long—I’m sure your wife will still remember
you, if she’s here.” She gave him a little push, and he stumbled
out into the hallway. “Even if you can’t find your family again,
don’t worry—there’s a place for you somewhere. You’ve got all the
time in the world.”
    Then she closed the door, and Paul
was left alone.
     
    ~}*{~
     
    Over
the River
    October 2012
    Table of Contents
     
    Sabrina couldn’t sleep with the
moonlight shining in her eyes.
    Her friends were having no such
trouble. Jenny and Mark were sound asleep, cuddled up in their
zipped-together sleeping bags. Brian had been snoring for half an
hour. But Sabrina, pressed against him, was as alert as
ever.
    She’d tried snuggling closer to
Brian, and moving farther away. She’d unzipped the bag for a breath
of air, and zipped it back up when she’d gotten too cold. She’d
rolled over, covered her eyes, counted sheep, and tried to
meditate. But wherever she turned, the halogen light of the full
white moon shone through her eyelids, keeping her wide
awake.
    At last she couldn’t take it any
more. She eased herself out of the doubled sleeping bag she shared
with Brian, patting his shoulder when he whimpered in his sleep.
Shoving her feet into her old yellow Crocs, she walked to the edge
of the woods.
    The air was cold tonight.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms and stomped her feet. She’d put on
sweats over her flannel pajamas, and the socks she wore were the
fluffy SpongeBob ones her sister had given her for Christmas, but
the wind cut through everything like scissors through gauze.
Strange that it should be so cold: usually it didn’t get below
fifty this time of year.
    She supposed she could go into the
house. It would be warmer. But the door was probably locked,and she
didn’t want to wake Jenny for the key. Anyway, what if she
encountered Jenny’s parents? They seemed like nice people, but she
hardly knew them, and she didn’t feel like making small talk.
Better to stay out here.
    She could stir up the coals and
roast some marshmallows, but she’d already brushed her teeth. She
hadn’t even brought a book.
    Frustrated, Sabrina stared into the
forest. The moonlight fell in broad beams through the leafless
trees, chasing the shadows from the underbrush. Far below, at the
bottom of the hill, the Little River glittered like tinsel. They
had walked along the shore this afternoon, before sunset, but the
place looked very different at night—fairy-haunted;
forbidden.
    She paced restlessly around the
edge of the campsite, peering through the trees for a better look
at the water. Every few steps she saw a flash of moon-bleached
sand, a twinkle of water. Then, suddenly, a path came into
focus.
    She didn’t know how she had missed
it. It was a wide, straight track between the trees, leading right
down to the water. It looked much more passable than the glorified
deer-trail they’d followed that afternoon. She could probably make
it in her Crocs without twisting an ankle. And it wasn’t that far:
the murmur of the water carried clearly