Swan’s Act – (day 7)

Swan’s Act


A.M. Harte

 The swans are dying, and they are singing. Beautiful songs, with notes that ripple across the water and leave London silent in their wake. The sky is grey and cloudless, the wind caresses the docked boats with damp fingertips.

On the bank of the Thames is a young couple in their mid-twenties, him a blond, rugged, Yorkshire lad, her dark-featured and city-slick, delicate beside him. She’s cold, he isn’t, and they huddle together listening to the swansong.

The next eight minutes change everything.

The woman’s heels click-clack on the cobblestones as she walks towards the edge of the water, lured forward by the singing, leaning against her man for support. All that separates the couple from the river is a waist-high metal fence and a steep drop. They could easily jump over that fence but they won’t: the water is contaminated. (Read More)