Sunday, 5 June 2016


by Christopher L. Malone

He couldn’t see her, save for the blue flashes of lightning illuminating her hugged knees, goose fleshed arms, and quivering lips.

A pop-up storm surprised them with torrents of rain and wind; rough currents threw them overboard with no life jackets to speak of. Their wet cotton clothing sucked the heat from their bones. He floundered for her body and pressed his torso against her own. He meant to warm her with the fire of his waning spirit, but the grey waters lapped over them; the cold seized their bodies before the undertow finally claimed them for a river’s grave.

Author bio: I am a Maryland native, English teacher, and aspiring writer with hopes of one day completing a novel.  You can view my poetry for free at

Hypothermia is part of 101 Fiction issue 12.

No comments:

Post a Comment