I posted this “flash” nonfiction yesterday on Creative NonFiction Writing Forums as part of the March Writing Challenge. The topic was “water,” and the subtopic was “movement of water.” 100-500 words.
I live near a harbour, where the long, shallow Credit River flows southward into Lake Ontario. Upstream, the river is pretty, with high banks and winding channels, where water ripples over rocks and beds of pebbles and fishermen wade into the current in hip-boots, casting for trout and salmon. Farther upstream the river merges from two tributaries into a rocky, whitewater beauty spot known as Forks of the Credit.
At my end, the river is sometimes pretty, sometimes ugly. As a thin layer of late-winter ice loses its grip, spring rains deliver a sudden urgency to the sluggish current and tonnes of mocha-toned, silt-laden water rush downstream, surging around the bridge’s pylons in a rush to reach the lake.
The rains end and the river flows gently again. Barn swallows return to their mud nests under the bridge, and an osprey patrols overhead. Terns whirl by and, with a splash, one dives into the water, emerging with a small fish. Jealous, opportunistic gulls give chase, trying to cause the tern to drop its catch. Kayaks and sculls put out at dawn from the rowing club. In their ribbed wake, fishermen, cigarettes cupped in hand, watch their lines in the water, hoping, perhaps, that nothing will bite.
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