
Down Dead Fish River
The river pulled like an ocean. It had been many years since Ben had seen the current so strong. Each time his paddle sliced through the waves, the water yanked at the oar like it was a spider’s web, sticking to the wood and trapping it in it’s tenacious web of streaming rapids. “Take it slow. Okay, love?” He called behind him to his wife who was breathing loud and heavy. “Oh god, Ben. This isn’t exactly what I expected,” Lydia said. Ben looked over his shoulder. Lydia heaved