Two years ago I took a creative writing class. One of the prompts was: Describe a lake or river as seen by a young man or a young woman who has just committed a murder. Do not mention the murder.
The little stuffed, brown bear lay in the mud by the water, its fur matted and wet. Its little black nose was hanging on by a single thread. She knelt down beside it, her wet clothes clung to her as she pulled gently at the nose until the thread broke and it fell off in her hand. Turning it over in her palm, she starred at the little indents that textured it. He had always loved sucking on the little bear’s nose; in fact he had loved it so much she was constantly sewing it back on because her husband feared he would choke on it.
She picked the bear up as she stood up and looked out over the water that slowly began to ripple. The large oak trees swayed as the cool breeze of the evening swept through their branches shedding more leaves that floated in the air then the water. She hugged the bear close to her and for a moment, underneath all the mud and water, she could still smell him. A mixture of baby powder and the soothing lavender shampoo he was bathed with. Bath time her favorite part of the day, it was the only time she had to be alone without him. Every night her husband would bathe him, before laying him in his white, wooden crib.
She remembered the day she had built the crib with her husband. They had spent hours trying to put all of the little pieces together. When they had finally finished they had laid together on the soft floor of the small blue room. Her husband’s hand gently resting on her large belly as the little boy growing inside her kicked. She remembered the day that they had brought him home from the hospital and first laid him in the crib. They had rocked him in the old rocking chair that sat in the corner of the room to get him to stop crying, before laying him down to sleep, the little bear resting in the corner of the crib.
Everywhere they would go he would bring the little bear with him. When they had picnics in the park, sitting a few yards from where she stood now, he would bring the bear with him. Though today, unlike those days, the park seemed different. The water splashed a little more violently against the rocks on the shore. It was the color of lead instead of a vibrant blue or green like it normally was. The trees were losing their leaves and looking more lifeless.
As the sun went farther down, the wind picked up and started to howl, reminding her of how he used to constantly cry as sun the sun went down. Placing the nose in her pocket, she turned the bear over and unzipped its back. Bending over she picked a large stone from the mud and placed it inside of the bear before zipping it back up. She looked at the bear one last time, knowing that she would never see it or him again. There was a little tug of regret on her heart before she drew her arm back and threw it as far as she could into water. With a grin of satisfaction, she watched the water continued to ripple as the bear sank down to the murky bottom. Without the bear, he couldn’t sleep at night.
