MUD

by
Andrew Seccombe

I can taste dirt in my mouth. I grind my teeth a couple of times and hear the little rocks moving; like knives scraping plates. I open my eyes. There's dirt in them too. One hurts to open but I can still see what's around me. There's mud, a lot of mud, and a few shiny puddles.

I try and move. Difficult. My legs are kind of sprawled to the side of me. My right leg is buried deep. I can't move it at all, it's really twisted in. I can see my left leg but it's sort of crushed against the other one. It doesn't move either. I try and breathe in and pain rips through my whole right side. Every rib feels broken; each arc seems like it's in fragments.

I can just make out the shoreline. It's a black mass, with a few lights from the houses. Everything is still. Perfect. I turn my head and can just make out the dark strips of the bridge, silhouetted against the moon.

I move my left arm across. I can do what I want with it. I stretch out a few fingers and carve the mud. I'm in control of that at least. I scrape a circle. It's small. It's not really round. Mine.

I'm dying, but not the way I had imagined.

* * *

It had been quiet in town as I drove out. I cleaned the house beforehand. I vacuumed, took out the rubbish and beat the dust out of a couple of rugs. I just wanted to neaten something before I left.

I was so relaxed as I drove. Not a nasty thought in my head. As I rolled out of the suburbs I saw a few televisions still burning brightly in the little houses. No doubt a few viewers had fallen safely asleep in their armchairs; watching their Tuesday night favourites.

I remember taking off my beanie and leaving it in the car. The night was quite chilly - winter had really kicked in the last few weeks. I hesitated as I locked up, wondering if I should take it with me to the bridge. No. I wanted to feel the crispness.

* * *

I feel it now; shivers rove around every part of my body above the mud line. They scare me. They've always scared me, ever since I was a little boy. They begun in little bursts. Little balls of ice rolling through my flesh, hunting. I managed to will them away for a while. That was one of the first things I can remember learning. It was of the most use I suppose.

I see someone's headlights twisting on one of the coastal roads. The lights come and go in the trees. I watch them for a while. They disappear and I wait until I see them again. They come and go, come and go.

The shivers are getting worse. My hands are shaking. The tiny water pools near my sleeve cuff are twitching too. I try and reach up to my throat. I want to pull my zipper up just a little further. I can't find it. I look down and see the zip near my collar bones. My fingers feel like logs as they try and grip.

They keep slipping and the zip remains unmoved.

My fingers can't feel each other.

* * *

I looked out at that skyline for a long time. I wanted to drink it all in. Moon glittering on water; clouds passing overhead; coast quiet and black. I wanted it to be peaceful.

Then I decided it was my moment. There wasn't any signal; not a bird crowing, flying overhead or anything like that. It was just like most other moments. I clasped onto the hand-rail and swung my feet up over the barrier fence. I stood on the other side with a fair amount of room. Before I could think, I stepped off. I had looked down, but couldn't see much. I can't remember hitting the bottom.

* * *

I call out. It doesn't sound like me. It's not really words. I can't move anything anymore. Still shaking though. Something's beating. I'm like rubber. Cold heavy rubber. And I'm sleepy.

I'm running around myself. Out in the open. I'm fast. Everything's fast. It's all coming. I hear Sarah's voice, telling me something I have to remember to do. 'Did you manage to honey?' I tell her I tried. I was going to. Really. I was on my way - I went to the wrong store. They'll be open tomorrow.

It's the guy at the dry cleaning place. Why is he here? I see him taking my suit pants and one of my coats. He's smiling a lot. He's friendly to everyone. I'm in my bed. Me and Sarah eat dessert. Some pie cartwheels onto on her nightie. Scoops it off with her finger and sucks it.

I'm in mud. The river is mud. It was slam. That's what I wanted. Bang into the water. 'No-one would survive that' Berney said. That's why. Over and quick. I wanted it instant. Don't know why I'm in it. It's like space. I'm floating. I'm hanging here. Hanging around. I shouldn't be here. Should've had my last memory on the bridge. I want to cry. So stupid. Couldn't get it right.

The shaking slows down. That's it. That's gotta be it. I can't stay awake. I can go now. They're letting me leave. Enough said. There.

The shivers stop.

The shivers stop and I go backwards. Deeper than before. Inside.

* * *

Someone's voice.

"Yeah that's how I found him. He wasn't to know I spose. The riverbed's been drying up this winter. Been its lowest in months."

Another someone.

"No mercy in that, freezing to death. Be the last thing you'd expect. Poor bastard."

"Wasn't to know, that's all. Just wasn't to know."

I can go now. I'm already far away.

� Andrew Seccombe
Reproduced with permission

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