Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 26
“Daddy look, there’s something in the water!”
Christopher shot up, moving quickly to catch
Emily before curiosity got the better of her and she
found herself bobbing in the murky water of the river
Avon.
He had been on edge since they had arrived
that morning – the watery sunlight had beckoned
Bristol’s populace to its city centre like ants to
a particularly sticky sweet and now the streets
were crawling with people. To avoid the crowds,
Christopher had brought Emily to Cascade Steps,
still unexpectedly devoid of people, and watched her
giggle with delight as she dangled her feet in the water
at the bottom. They would need to move soon, a small
group of tourists were beginning to make their way
over, and Christopher had been watching them with a
sigh when Emily had called out.
“Em, come away from there, please. That
water’s not safe.”
“But Daddy, look!”
Christopher reached the little girl and pulled
her gently away from the wooden edge. She moved
obediently but, not one to give up, began pointing
instead.
“Look Daddy. There! See it?”
One hand on Emily, he crouched and peered
over the side. He frowned.
“I think that’s just mud, baby.”
“No! Look, it’s pretty. Don’t you see it? Look
at it Daddy.”
She took a step forward and again he pulled
her back.
“Stay there please.” He looked again and
shook his head. “All I can see is mud.”
“It’s in the mud! Can’t you see the flowers?”
Christopher sighed and leaned forward for
effect, then laughed with surprise. Sure enough in the
centre of the clod he could see what looked like the
image of a flower.
“I see it. I see the flower.”
“Let’s get it!”
He laughed.
“I don’t think Mummy would be happy if she
found out we were touching bits of mud from the
Avon.”
Emily put a little finger against her lips and
smiled with mischief.
“Secret,” she said. Christopher grinned.
He sat Emily down on a bench to the side of
the steps, and then shuffled as close to the edge of the
water as possible. He stretched out one leg and began
to pull the lump of mud closer with the tip of his foot.
They fished it out and wrapped it in a plastic
bag. Emily held it happily, peeking inside every so
often as they made their way home.
Christopher scrubbed at the item until his
fingernails turned black and the sink filled with sludge.
Emily sat on a little wooden stool behind him, every
so often piping up with “Can you see it yet Daddy?”
or “What is it?”
He was disappointed to find that beneath the
mud was a small, completely empty wooden box,
which dashed any faint hope of the news headline
“Man finds treasure floating on the Avon. Ex-wife
furious.” He kept scrubbing though, and as he did the
box revealed pretty flowery carvings on its exterior,
rose stems swirling amongst each other until they
came to bloom on the lid. Three sinks of disgusting
water later he presented the box to Emily with a
flourish. She grabbed it greedily and hugged it, then
gave her father a big wet kiss on his cheek. She was
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