Cop (ORIGINAL snippet)
People who've looked in my earlier entries might've noticed this intro snippet from a proposed project idea I was holding onto for a graphic novel idea. I don't think it'll get done any time soon with my upcoming Italy studies and whatnot, but here is another snippet from the same story.
To start off with a little context before I share the snippet, the main character, Sage, has been journeying around the hometown from his childhood on his grandmother's last wishes. Initially he thinks it was to retrieve a set of documents from his old house, but it's actually been to find closure to a near-death experience he suffered as a child (drowning, to be exact). This particular written portion just has him at the river where it happened again, remembering.
And with that, go ahead and read, reader!
The river behind on Johnson’s farm is an unconquered beast from Sage’s childhood. He remembers the long summer days where he would sneak around the back using the old bike trails behind his father’s back, traversing the periwinkle and terra-cotta covered rocks. Usually his father never knew where he went, except for...that one time Sage cut himself on a piece of glass in the riverbed. There was no hiding the deep gash on the sole of his right foot.
There was another time, another day, but Sage hates thinking about that day. It always makes him feel sick to his stomach with an emotion that he has never felt during his time away from this rickety town. Not even Juliet, as much as Sage loves her, knows about that day. He’s never really hidden anything from her, so much as the topic was never dragged out into the light. She’s tried to pry more details, but it’s more difficult than pulling burrs from a pet’s fur, with twice the social whiplash.
“You said your father’s been dead for years, right?” Juliet always asks innocently.
“What of it?” Sage replies.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
And just like that, their conversations end just so. Nobody else in Sage’s family tells Juliet what happened, because they know it’s his job to tell her the truth. She is both too shy and too respectful to intrude any further into Sage’s memories. Things have always been this way in their years of dating and, Sage supposes, that is how things are going to stay until Juliet’s patience reaches its end.
Sage reaches the riverbed--yes, it was this riverbed, he’s completely sure of it. It hasn’t changed a bit. He even recognizes the same cluster of moss that he slipped on. It’s grown back in over the years since it was disturbed, but it lacks the emerald green tone as it did years ago. There’s the leftovers of the tree he tried to cling onto as well, the bark now much worse for wear. Any moment the bank where the stump rests could collapse into the river.
With the water levels being the way they are are during the spring time, Sage thinks it could be any day. The town’s always been known for its wet clusterfuck of a rainy season. This year is going to be no different. The clerk at the inn claimed that this was the most rain they had since ‘97.
Even now, it’s collecting in a treacherous puddle around Sage’s feet. It soaks right through his socks--no doubt he’s going to need to sit next to the fireplace at the inn later. He tries to back up the hill, but it proves to be a difficult task. The mud squelches underneath his heels as he lifts his feet. The grass is slippery under the rubbery soles of his shoes, and the traction is lacking as he forces himself back up the hill.
Just in time as well, Sage quickly realizes, as he sees the dirt wall on the other side of the river already begin to slough off. He’s already fallen into this river once and he doesn’t plan on today being a repeat of that incident.
There’s a voice calling to him from the field behind him, but Sage doesn’t recognize it, nor can he make out the words. He abruptly pivots around, spotting a cop standing there in full uniform. The cop sticks out of the grass, a near-black in the grassy environment. Mud is caked up to the other man’s knees, dirtying his uniform, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s as still as a statue, hands hooked around his belt loops as Sage begins to walk his way.
“That river’s not safe, boy,” the cop snaps as soon as Sage is within hearing range.
“I was looking for something,” Sage blurts. The cop narrows his sapphire eyes, shaking his head.
“You shouldn’t set such a bad example for youngsters, mister...?” the cop trails off.
“It’s Sage. Sage Harvey.”
The cop’s eyes widen, his stance softening as he burrows his brows. “Sage Harvey? The same Sage Harvey who lived at Williker Way?” Sage is taken aback--nobody has brought up Williker Way yet.
“...Where do I know you?”
The cop runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You of all people should know about how dangerous that river is, Mr. Harvey,” he says crossly before turning his attention there once more. “Boy, you get away from that water before you fall in it!”
Sure enough, a young little boy, not unlike Sage himself at that age, pops out from behind the bank, slightly muddied but no worse for wear. His blue shirt carries a dirt stain right across his chest and his hands are caked with the stuff. The cop clucks his tongue at the sight, wagging a finger at the kid as he lectures him.
Sage doesn’t even bother to listen to his statements--he only walks away from the river, wondering where his cop was all those years ago.
To start off with a little context before I share the snippet, the main character, Sage, has been journeying around the hometown from his childhood on his grandmother's last wishes. Initially he thinks it was to retrieve a set of documents from his old house, but it's actually been to find closure to a near-death experience he suffered as a child (drowning, to be exact). This particular written portion just has him at the river where it happened again, remembering.
And with that, go ahead and read, reader!
The river behind on Johnson’s farm is an unconquered beast from Sage’s childhood. He remembers the long summer days where he would sneak around the back using the old bike trails behind his father’s back, traversing the periwinkle and terra-cotta covered rocks. Usually his father never knew where he went, except for...that one time Sage cut himself on a piece of glass in the riverbed. There was no hiding the deep gash on the sole of his right foot.
There was another time, another day, but Sage hates thinking about that day. It always makes him feel sick to his stomach with an emotion that he has never felt during his time away from this rickety town. Not even Juliet, as much as Sage loves her, knows about that day. He’s never really hidden anything from her, so much as the topic was never dragged out into the light. She’s tried to pry more details, but it’s more difficult than pulling burrs from a pet’s fur, with twice the social whiplash.
“You said your father’s been dead for years, right?” Juliet always asks innocently.
“What of it?” Sage replies.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
And just like that, their conversations end just so. Nobody else in Sage’s family tells Juliet what happened, because they know it’s his job to tell her the truth. She is both too shy and too respectful to intrude any further into Sage’s memories. Things have always been this way in their years of dating and, Sage supposes, that is how things are going to stay until Juliet’s patience reaches its end.
Sage reaches the riverbed--yes, it was this riverbed, he’s completely sure of it. It hasn’t changed a bit. He even recognizes the same cluster of moss that he slipped on. It’s grown back in over the years since it was disturbed, but it lacks the emerald green tone as it did years ago. There’s the leftovers of the tree he tried to cling onto as well, the bark now much worse for wear. Any moment the bank where the stump rests could collapse into the river.
With the water levels being the way they are are during the spring time, Sage thinks it could be any day. The town’s always been known for its wet clusterfuck of a rainy season. This year is going to be no different. The clerk at the inn claimed that this was the most rain they had since ‘97.
Even now, it’s collecting in a treacherous puddle around Sage’s feet. It soaks right through his socks--no doubt he’s going to need to sit next to the fireplace at the inn later. He tries to back up the hill, but it proves to be a difficult task. The mud squelches underneath his heels as he lifts his feet. The grass is slippery under the rubbery soles of his shoes, and the traction is lacking as he forces himself back up the hill.
Just in time as well, Sage quickly realizes, as he sees the dirt wall on the other side of the river already begin to slough off. He’s already fallen into this river once and he doesn’t plan on today being a repeat of that incident.
There’s a voice calling to him from the field behind him, but Sage doesn’t recognize it, nor can he make out the words. He abruptly pivots around, spotting a cop standing there in full uniform. The cop sticks out of the grass, a near-black in the grassy environment. Mud is caked up to the other man’s knees, dirtying his uniform, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s as still as a statue, hands hooked around his belt loops as Sage begins to walk his way.
“That river’s not safe, boy,” the cop snaps as soon as Sage is within hearing range.
“I was looking for something,” Sage blurts. The cop narrows his sapphire eyes, shaking his head.
“You shouldn’t set such a bad example for youngsters, mister...?” the cop trails off.
“It’s Sage. Sage Harvey.”
The cop’s eyes widen, his stance softening as he burrows his brows. “Sage Harvey? The same Sage Harvey who lived at Williker Way?” Sage is taken aback--nobody has brought up Williker Way yet.
“...Where do I know you?”
The cop runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You of all people should know about how dangerous that river is, Mr. Harvey,” he says crossly before turning his attention there once more. “Boy, you get away from that water before you fall in it!”
Sure enough, a young little boy, not unlike Sage himself at that age, pops out from behind the bank, slightly muddied but no worse for wear. His blue shirt carries a dirt stain right across his chest and his hands are caked with the stuff. The cop clucks his tongue at the sight, wagging a finger at the kid as he lectures him.
Sage doesn’t even bother to listen to his statements--he only walks away from the river, wondering where his cop was all those years ago.