A Soft Mystery Short Story

Entry 10 (Days 10, 13, 14, 15, 16)

I sit cross-legged under a tree, waiting for the breeze to cool me down. The air was nearly stagnant, however, and saturated with water vapor. I knew that today would be hot but I foolishly sought sitting under a tree away from people. The creek that flowed through snaked its way through the landscape mere feet from me. Liquid water with its higher conductive resistance than air remains cooler. Staring at it does me no good, though. After my spell of watching, I returned to my house and read Murder on the Orient Express.

The next morning I dropped my bag quietly next to my seat and sat down. Some historical dates were sloppily written on the board and unmemorable. A voice prodded me from close proximity towards my rear. My friend Emma, a moderately tall being with brown hair falling to the lumbar vertebrae, was talking to me about murder mystery again. By chance I had actually read the book she had recommended. This conversation continued until my pencil tapping was forcibly stopped. Class had begun – my eyes rested on my notebook. When I looked further up my desk I noted that my pencil had since rolled off.

Prodding now took a physical form. I thought that the conversation had finished earlier, but I guess not. My head turned and there she was in my field of vision once more. Now that school was over, she requested my presence, Thankfully, considering today was almost as stifling as yesterday, we did not spend a long time in the line of fire (or rather radiation from the sun). After only a few minutes of walking we arrived at the coffee shop. A wooden table was claimed toward the back, close to the warm orange glow coming from above. I sat in a chair opposite to her and watched her mouth open and her eyes light up. My cup of hot chocolate engaged in heat transfer with the surrounding air. A slight breeze carried her hair in many directions.

She spoke, “I have summoned you here to become a detective. Just kidding. Sort of.”

She paused to drink her cup’s contents.

I stared at her quizzically and asked, “Why are you drinking an empty cup?”

“So I can appear serene and wise.”
“Alright. Now get to the point.”
“Fine, Fine. I found something very unusual by the creek a couple days ago. It’s pretty far from where you usually sit, though.”
“And that would be?”
“There’s something off about a particular bend in the creek. The area sparkles slightly and somehow has a slightly reddish hue despite a lack of anything red close by. That one bank with one tree growing practically at the edge…” Emma said calmly as if her words were intrinsically easy-to-understand.
“I guess I’m glad I have no homework, then. Let’s go,” I said.

I grabbed my half-drunk cup of coffee and finished it, despite my friend standing up briskly. I set it down gently, stood up, and followed her out.

The creek by which I had been sitting yesterday ran through the town park. This town was compact – it only took around ten awkward minutes in the sun to arrive. Our conversations were sparse and scattered with both of us focused on the destination.  Emma led the way with her hair relatively immobilized to her body. The trees varied widely in proximity to the bank. To me nothing else seemed to change much except for the density of greenery.

The one tree that appeared to be on the verge of collapsing helplessly into the creek stood out. At first I thought that the sun was simply reflecting off the creek but I stepped into the shade. Here I could see the creek more clearly. The creek was shrouded by the tree . Yet the creek still shone as if the sun was over it. The very reflected light was a different color.