Those Abroad | Short Story

Chalky water lying low amidst the reeds, the bullrushes easing to and fro in the wind. Crickets chirp in the gloom before being silenced by some animal shuffle, some errant footstep.

Voices carry over the water, but those abroad at this hour have a desire for secrecy in common. No-one wants their confidences told, nor to tell others’.

Water voles and grass snakes slip noiselessly into the still water, barely a ripple to show for their egress. Tree roots cling to crumbled banks, each year holding a little less soil in their grasp. Later, the bullrushes will part and the soil will cascade as they are lowered into the water. Dark eyes will watch from under moon-slicked brows as the water gains purchase, and pulls.

By morning, those shuffling, muffle-voiced shadows will have returned to the town. They will slide back behind butchers’ counters, teachers’ desks. They will slip headsets over their ears, overalls over their boots. Only the dusky smudges underneath their eyes will tell of a night in the fens, where more was brought than was taken away.

*Thanks for reading, folks. image courtesy of Wikipedia. My recent short stories include ‘The Lamplighter‘ and ‘After‘.

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Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.