ALL POSTS, storytelling

Call me when you get there.

Salvo turns towards the girls, heart pounding, the blood crashing through his head in mimicry of the tremendous waves below. They call to him like sirens, but their lilting voices magnified like one collective sound, reach Salvo’s ears and bristle with unease. Theresa smiles, and he is struck by the urge to turn away, for she does not seem like herself and this new spangled version, dripping in red and whirling like a spinning top, scares him. 

There is no escape. 

The man appears like a crash of light. He towers in front of Salvo, barring all entry to the path, the gentle calling of his mother, the worried rallying of his father for they are all searching for the two missing children. Panic is in the air, every living thing electrified with the brewing storm. The sea watches it all. 

The Eddy, Salvo thinks, horror curdling like unstoppered milk at the destruction of his perfect plan of escape. 

“No!” The word leaves Salvo’s mouth, dripping off his tongue unwarranted, seeping weakly to meet the Eddy’s dead-pan stare. 

There is no escape. 

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