'Games Up'
by Maxine Taylor
Tom stood on the bank, his hands braced against his wet legs. Retrieving another breath he gave vent to yet another volley of earnest calling.
'David! David! David!' he cried, each call more anxious than before .
But there was no sound, except the ripple of water passing along the edge of the river and the distant hum of cars on the overpass. No sight, no sound of the friend who had shared his day. An undeniable fear surrounded him as closely as the gloom and as deep as the river that shimmered before him.
A realisation now hit him and in the darkness he began to wail. Sinking to his knees he became deafened by his own mournful cries. Turning his face to the earth he missed the sight of flashing blue lights and the sound of salvation as it clambered to his side. ‘Games up,’ he thought.
The whole day had been great. As usual Tom and David spent their weekend in pursuit of laughs, knocking a ball about, visiting the pub or just enjoying each other’s company, brothers more than mates. From the local moorings they began their journey home. Bridge Road had just that, a bridge.
The ball went passing one to another. The ball carried itself over the bridge to the water below.
‘That’s our kids ball, I’ll have to get it back, he’ll kill me.’ David stated and sped off down to the water’s edge.
Tom entered the water to his thighs and yelled.