Each night the same. A few scotches in the dusty library, furniture shrouded in white sheets. Ethereal music from upstairs. Then, the malt coursing in your veins, leave the house, go down the brick walk to the old boathouse, place of secrets and one very unfortunate accident. Shadows all around, some ahead as if leading the way, or from behind, following, a nightly migration of ghosts in moonlight. How the accident happened leads back to the embrace, stronger than anticipated, hard lips against your own, the pressure you felt in your thighs. And though you were dizzy with the attention and the risk of it all, he being such an old and close family friend, you felt something give way. Your legs, all shaky and rubberlike, deserted you. With a gasp you fell into the berth, hit your head on the stern of the sailboat and disappeared, unaware that above you the old friend was stepping back, from the water, from you, and ultimately, from responsibility.
Christopher Woods is a writer, teacher and photographer who lives in Houston and Chappell Hill, Texas. He has published a novel, THE DREAM PATCH, a prose collection, UNDER A RIVERBED SKY, and a book of stage monologues for actors, HEART SPEAK. His work has appeared in THE SOUTHERN REVIEW, NEW ENGLAND REVIEW, NEW ORLEANS REVIEW, COLUMBIA and GLIMMER TRAIN, among others. His photographs can be seen in his gallery -http://christopherwoods.zenfolio.com/. He is currently compiling a book of photography prompts for writers, FROM VISION TO TEXT.