Lake Lewisia #478

She stood on the little patch of land poking up from the water some three hundred feet off the shoreline, her kayak lashed to the sapling valiantly growing there, and she faced away from the town and the road and everything that had come before that day, and she sang. All her life, she had sung her nonsense songs, each syllable pulled from some memory older than her little body, and all her life she had been told it was too loud, too strange, too strident, even when she only allowed herself to hum in the hopes of being small enough to be allowed. Now the swooping notes made ripples on the water, spreading farther and farther until they met the wake of some huge and deep swimmer, heading back toward her song.

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insp. & insp.

LL#478