This was written for a Flash!Friday competition. The prompt was “freedom” and Brokopondo’s photo.
Nooitmeer
Nooitmeer waited on the turbid river’s bank. Behind him stood a doorway as ruined as his life.
He’d seen Watervrouw once as a child; hiding hungry and tired in the mangroves while the moon cast grey-silver ghost shadows. She rose from the river, pulling her body and shimmering tail up between the mangrove roots. A golden comb shone in her shadow-black hair. The wind fell silent and shadows hid. Nooitmeer was left mute; his voice caught in the other world.
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| Berlijn Plantation, Commewijne, Suriname. Public domain photo by Brokopondo |
Watervrouw smiled at him before slipping back to Waterwereld. Her comb remained between the roots. Later he dropped it in the water. Stolen gold wouldn’t buy his family’s freedom.
Now he stood at the same, but different, river – clothes torn, hands calloused, heart empty. Turbid water rippled silver as shadows hid. He saw her face and dark hair spread in a halo upon the water. He’d no use for gold.
Nooitmeer let out his breath and fell into her arms.
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