Gently Down the Stream

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 1: The Departure

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

Somewhere past Cherry’s ivy-laced window, the wights beckoned. She scanned the thick ferns and pale alder trunks out back, but the hillside held no vibrant colors or alluring shapes. The wind’s rustling didn’t carry bubbling laughter or a hint of melody. If only that meant the wights had left. Read more »

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 2: The Guardian and the Wights

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

Cherry ran, covering fifty feet, then one hundred, then two hundred, a thick mat of clover cushioning her footfalls. If the wights had found her burrow, they could have spotted her through the trees or heard her push through the brush surrounding the trail. More wights would converge on her from all directions. Read more »

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 4: The Bridge Too Far

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

The mud sucked at Cherry’s feet as she slipped through the thicket of willow and alder. Did she lose the wight that had been calling out her name? If so, it wouldn’t stay lost for long. Somehow, the creature had known she’d taken the old trail south. Surely it would hunt her down again. Read more »

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 5: The Homecoming

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

Cherry floated in a green haze. Her eyes stung and her body screamed for air, but where was the surface? She couldn’t see far in the murky water. It was cloudier on her left side; that must be silt she’d stirred up from the bottom. In the distance on her right, the haze was brighter. She needed to swim that way. Read more »

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