She washes up on the frozen riverbank, shivering from the cold and the desolation in herself. The tide lifts her – jingling with shells and sharks’ teeth — wedges her under clods of leaves. She stares up at the leafless trees, recognizes nothing, holds her breath. She’s listening for the sound of stealth. A muskrat scrambles over the ice, his right front paw chewed to a stump. The woman’s eyes follow him, shift to the color and emptiness of long rain. She huddles into herself. …maybe what I do won’t be enough….
Author: Julie Houston
Julie Houston graduated from The Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars. She has published short stories and poems in a number of journals including The Georgia Review, Antioch Review, Texas Quarterly, and Colorado Quarterly. She has also published some archeology articles. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart by Joyce Carol Oates. This excerpt is the first scene from a completed novel.