Wild Waters

by Victoria Nations

Painted river waves flash between bleached stairs and molded tubes. Three friends enter the abandoned water slide, their heads sloshing with high school memories as they dry slide in the dark.

Remember how Trish kissed that girl from out of town, and something inside her woke up? Remember how Danielle screamed at a snake in the water, sure Satan had marked her for wearing a bikini? Remember how Debra cried inside the basin, refusing to drop, saying it was her father’s dark mouth meaning to swallow her?

Rasps vibrate through the plastic, thrumming under their fingers. They yell to each other to be quiet. They laugh too loud at how the structure sways and creaks.

No photos. A phone flash would make the tubes glow and their hips look even wider. No one knows they are here, and it will stay that way. They are here to purge memories, not make them.

The friends wiggle along as if their aging bones don’t bump against the rusty seams, as if their bellies aren’t scraping. Their breath heaves in the tight space, panting through the humidity, each intake pulling something more pungent up from the depths.

Debra’s monster is still in there with her, waiting. So is Danielle’s. Jen has thought of the girl with every man she has kissed, and her monster knows.

One last drop to remember, to try to forget.

The way out of the darkness is through. That’s what they told each other. Monsters breed when left untouched. The nest of what’s grown there, feeding on memories of their squeals and shame, has become large and hungry.

The basin is a dank whisper gallery, spoken memories of each other circling in a narrowing gyre. I remember knowing you were in love, even if you didn’t. I remember wishing I had your strength and confidence. I remember wanting to keep you safe, every time you slept over.

The monster rises up, drawn to their breathing, their desperation to be free. They can’t delay any longer. The friends hold onto each other, wrinkled hands clasping soft shoulders, as they aim for the dark gullet.

They hope it chokes on them, as they drop.

Victoria Nations is a horror writer and poet, an eldergoth queer woman, and a biologist who is happiest wading through swamps. She writes about wild, liminal spaces and centers characters across the gender spectrum. Victoria’s work appears in multiple venues. She lives in Florida, USA with her wife, who indulges her love of monsters. Follow her online at VictoriaNations.com, on Blue Sky at @victorianations.bsky.social, and on Instagram and Threads at @leaves_cobwebs.