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Weekly Contest #262
When I find Jimmy, he is standing over the lump half submerged in the creek. His arms hang like twigs at his hips and his cotton t-shirt clings to his back, soaked and muddy. I want to say something, to scream, to fight, but my feet are rooted to the ground. Jimmy senses me and snaps his head in my direction, wild eyed and pale. His lips begin moving but I can’t hear him, not fully. My mind stills, almost to a complete calmness because there’s an explanation. There has to be one. I swallow the bile in my throat and attempt to focus. Jimmy st...
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