fantasy/fiction

The Song

And the voice he’s been waiting to hear

An AI image created by the author in Bing

‘She sings, sir!’ the boy said. Sam wiped his sweaty hands on his work pants. The afternoon sun was flowing through the half-open door of his shop, and its bright light made the boy look like a ghost.

‘She sings?’

‘Yes, I swear! I’m not making it up! At sunset, she stands there, behind the rocks, you know the rocks in the bay? Those that…’

‘…are forbidden to go to, ‘Sam interrupted. ‘Did you swim over there? Do you know about the undertows?’

‘I know, but Ben told me I was a chickenshit, and…’

‘Okay, okay. Where’s Ben?’

‘Just out the door, sir.’ The boy swallowed hard. He was in seventh grade. His name was Jake. A child who was trying to be a man. Sam knew his parents, good people. The inhabitants of the resort town came to his shop quite often, and he knew most of them. Not only the tourists but also the locals loved his woodwork. They particularly enjoyed his honey spoons. Metal spoons make honey toxic, so it should not be eaten with them.

‘Out the door, huh? Who’s the chickenshit now?’

‘He just thought you wouldn’t believe us and call our parents, and they’ll kill us if they understand we’ve been there.’