Posted by: Kathryn Hulick | April 3, 2008

Mud Monster

Concord, New Hampshire. June 27, 2004.

Lake Pink Reflection

Swift – slip! The whisper waves, beneath a darkness deeply sleeps.

Waken, liken, strike the surface.

Ripple, tickle, smite the day.

In evidence, far-fetching eyes, illuminated as the moon, orbiting a slunking shape. Mud caked and glopping, slushing, stomping, it lurks just in the shadows, there.

What, you can’t see it? You can’t hear it?

You smile and say you wonder how, imagination grew so restless. Laugh and roll your shoulders, smirk, let’s be getting on home now?

Oh, I’m not going. I’m not stepping, there where drooping, slicking darkness wakes. I’ll stay right here, watch the water. Safe and silent, calm and clear.

You take it lightly, fear is silly! Just a product of the mind. Of prey and predators, of ancient history. We are smarter, wiser, now. Come on, step to it! They are waiting, wondering why we took so long: standing, staring by the water, peering eyes and fluttering hearts.

Pretty please, just one more moment? I’ll make my peace then meet my end.

You can’t stand it. Now you’re leaving. Oh good, I’ll wait here, watch the water. Not so calm and not so clear.

Rushing, gushing, leaps out lunges, grasping arms of slimy vine. It can’t see me, it can’t hear me, but you, oh dear, you might be dinner, served up stunned, with a dash of pride.

I jump and gesture, quick, disaster! Of all you taught me, one thing clear. A blade of grass, blown thumb-tips close, and a scree of whistle. What, was that me?

Mud slurps, retreating, bubbles gurgle, surface flops. You’re standing, staring, shoulders shaking. What was that?

Oh, I don’t know.

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