Water Memory

They sold homeopathic remedies. They justified it to themselves by saying that as long as people felt better, it didn't actually matter who had cured them. It wasn't lying.

She was halfway through a shower when she turned and spotted him perched on the toilet seat. She shrieked, startled.

"I didn't understand," he said, his voice monotone. "I thought it was all hokum. But it isn't: it's true. Water has a memory. It remembers... everything we've ever done to it..."

There were no sounds but the water splashing on her back.

Then something hot and moist wrapped around her neck...

The Village Well

Long one today; this just wouldn't have been the same if I couldn't have had those middle paragraphs, so it's two hundred. Double-wide! Hoo-ah!

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The pool fills all year, percolating up from the mysterious underground reaches beneath the town. At the Festival, the twenty-four families gather in the square and mount the ivory steps to dip their buckets in and take their share.

The first family skims from the top, where the pool is clear and bright. They mix it with wine and sell it briskly. It is gone in a month’s time.

The second family fills from the deeps, where the pool is dark, blue, and secretive. They blend it with the tears of virgin maidens and charge dearly. They serve an exclusive clientele.

It continues throughout the day. Some treat their takings with fruits, some with bitter herbs. Some boil it down to syrup and crystals; others feed it to animals meant for slaughter.

The last family has no buckets. They climb into the empty basin and roll in the dregs, soaking up the last leavings with their clothes and hair. They squeeze these into murky brown bottles and store them in their cellars, long tunnels beneath their unprepossessing home. They do not sell any of it. Someday, perhaps soon, the cellar will be full.

No one knows what will happen after that.

Deeper Than You Know

"Ready? One... two... three... CANNONBALL!" Robbie ran three steps onto the board, bounced once, and tumbled into the water, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. The splash was tremendous, reaching above the still-quivering diving board.

Robbie surfaced to the cheers and whoops of his friends. He waved and basked in their admiration. Only Erika wore and expression of concern, watching the water ripple and thrash, the surface growing more agitated. Her eyes widened when the translucent muzzle of a huge, watery artillery gun began to form out at the deep end.

None of them were prepared for the return fire.

Wave Hello

"I think it's getting closer," said Garret.

"You always think that," said Joan. "They're watching it, aren't they?"

Out in the harbor, the wall of water hovered, quivering. It was taller than the buildings, now, poised in the last few seconds before it crashed down. The tip was curled over, frothing white. Seagulls floated serenely on the curved top. Fishing boats dotted the water in the shadow of the wave.

"It has to come in sometime."

"They'd know if it was dangerous." Joan patted the couch. "C'mon. The show's starting."

Outside, the sun glinted on the surface of the water.

Falling on My Head

“It’s been kind of weird.”

“I guess we’ll get used to it eventually.”

A car splashed through a puddle on the street. “Ow, ow,” said the puddle.

“I think my toilet tried to grope me the other night.”

“The toilet?”

“Well, you know, the… inside.”

“Ah. I’m amazed you can still use it. Mine kept making retching sounds. I rented a Port-a-Potty.”

They walked in silence down the rainy street for a time. A stream of water chuckled darkly as it slithered into a storm drain.

“It’s just been weird, is all.”

“Yeah.”

“Wheeeee!” cried the raindrops as they fell.