Published by River Styx

The water brought quiet, heaviness, a strained peace. We were never so kind to one another, my mother, sister, and I. Yes, please, we said in hushed voices, I will have a cup of tea. Thank you, yes, sugar.
All day we took turns checking the windows. What do you see now? How close is it?
It’s closer.
It’s up the tree.
It’s past the tree.
All day we knew he would drive home well after sunset; he would crest the hill and not be able to judge, with only the illumination of his headlights, how high the water had come. He would think it was a typical flood year and he would try to drive through the water and he would fail.

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Image taken from the cover of River Styx Issue 89.