Inwood Hill Park, Manhattan via Google Maps, © Francisco Ayala
They say your kind cannot cross running water. Not even by boat, or bridge, or flight. Tricky prospect, in this land of rivers and streams: I cross three just to reach my daughter’s house. You must be frustrated, stuck on limited wedges of land. Like the one on that opposite shore.
The rains have been slow this summer, and Big Creek runs low. More puddles than anything else. And puddles aren’t strong enough to stop you.
Walking the shore I find dams of twigs, crustaceans struggling through muck, bird-claw marks on the mud banks.
Then yes –there– footprints. Crossing over to our side.
The others scoffed at my warnings too many times. They won’t be helped. I will gather my family at home and ward it well. Do what you came to do and leave, quickly, before the creek rises.
You don’t want to be trapped here with me.
Word count: 150. Written for this week’s What Pegman Saw challenge. Big thank you to Joshua for finding what is probably the only part of Manhattan that I could use for Eneana! Click on the link to see which images other writers found when they followed Pegman around Manhattan, and what stories those images inspired — and feel free to write your own!