Some of my favorite scenes to write in Spellbind take place in Seren’s dreams - an odd mix of memory and nightmare. This scene is a rather new addition, but I’m quite proud of it.
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It’s one of those days when summer licks at spring’s heels. The temperature is hot and the air hangs thick and humid.
Winnie dips her toe into the creek. “It’s cold.”
I laugh. “Good. I’m burning up out here.”
I put down my cup of lemonade next to the pitcher that Winnie’s mama sent with us and wade into the creek. The cold water rushes around me and plasters my bathing suit to my skin.
I turn around to see Winnie still standing on the creek bank, her feet slowly sinking into the mud. Her Ethel Moses bob frames her face as she’s silhouetted by the afternoon sun.
“You coming in, Freddy?”
Winnie rolls her eyes at me. “Not if you call me that!”
I stick my tongue out in response. “Okay, Winifred.”
She sits down on the bank and slides in to meet me.
“Count of three?” I ask.
“You know it!” Winnie’s grin is crooked and pink as hollyhocks.
“One…” I start.
“Two.”
“Three!”
We go under. The chilly water rushes around us. The only sound other than the roaring creek: the steady thump-thump-thump of my heart in my ears.
I stay under until my chest aches for air. Then, and only then, I let my feet push off from the smooth rocks at the bottom of the creek, propelling me back into the air.
I gasp for the hot, sticky, spring-sweet air and let it fill me up. A wet strand of hair gets into my mouth and I splutter, trying to get it out.
Winnie laughs across from me, her skin glistening with creek-water in the blazing sun. “You okay?”
“You know me.” I smile back, combing my fingers through my wet hair and pushing as much as I can behind my ears. “I’m always okay.”
“Yeah, sure.” Winnie laughs. “Except for that time that you tripped over your own Mary Janes and thought you broke your arm. You cried hours until the doctor told you it was fine.”
“It hurt!” I defend “And we were seven! It’s not like you haven’t had any embarrassing moments, Freddy.” I raise my eyebrows. “Need I remind you of what happened in Mrs. Delmar’s class?”
Before I can get another word out, a man-made wave comes towards my head. My mouth fills with creek-water.
“Ew! Winnie!” I splash her back.
She shrieks and dives under to avoid my attack. When she pops up again, I try to splash her again -- but she barely pauses for breath before diving back under.
I can’t see where she is and then --
A wave of ice-cold water catches me in the face. I’m sputtering and wiping my eyes and coughing up creek-water.
“Okay, okay!” I put my hands up. “I yield.”
“As you should.” Winnie says. “As the loser, can you grab me some lemonade?”
I roll my eyes and acquiesce.
I wade back to the bank and pour Winnie a glass from the pretty glass pitcher. I pour myself some too. I take a sip, face puckering at the way the sourness burns in my throat.
I turn back around, holding Winnie’s cup in my hand.
She’s gone.
Of course, I know what comes next. This is a memory after all. Winnie is going to jump out from behind a tree on the other side of a creek and then we will both laugh and play in the creek until it gets dark and we have to go home.
Or, Winnie should come out from behind a tree. But the seconds tick past with just the roaring of the creek and my heartbeat in my ears.
“Winnie?” I ask, voice trembling. “The joke’s over. I have your lemonade and you can come out now.”
But she doesn’t.
“Winnie?” I say again. “This isn’t funny anymore.”
But Winnie’s gone.
I spin around, expecting to see her standing on this side of the creek or wading towards me in the water or splashing me to prove a point.
“Come on, Winnie, please!” My voice trembles. “I’m going to call you Freddy until you come out. Freddy, Freddy, Freddy, Freddy…”
I’m cut off by something nudging against my side. Winnie’s arm brushes against me. She’s floating on her back, arms stretched out as if she’s trying to backfloat.
Except her lips are tinged blue.
I drop the cup and let the tide carry it away. I grab Winnie by the shoulders and pull her up to the creek bank. I check her pulse the way Mama told me to do but the next step is to call a doctor if something was wrong and something is wrong because she’s not breathing, she’s not breathing, she’s not breathing.
I wake up to a buzzing dread climbing up my back like a ladder. I want to run to Winnie’s house, knock on her door, and convince myself she’s okay. I want Winnie’s mama to call me “honey” or “darling” and make me a cup of tea while Winnie gets ready to go out. I want to hug Winnie and promise I’ll never call her Freddy again if she doesn’t want me to. But I can’t.
Because Winnie’s not even alive anymore. Neither is Winnie’s mama or my Mama or Mrs. Declan or the doctor who always used to check on us when we were ill.
It’s just me.
[Taglist under the cut.]