Whoosh

The day is warm, but not uncomfortable so. Summer is finally starting to turn, and for Charles this means more people walking the trails. More people to watch. More people to save. Every stride  he takes up and down the uneven stone steps is learned, he’s been walking this path every day for the last five years. Ever since she left him. He’s watched as the trail changed, noticed as trees fall over the cliff banks one by one and change the course of the creek subtly; in a thousand years the whole course of the falls will have changed, evened out- this land is living memory and Charles is a part of it.

He walks for her. 

Up and down the stairs like they used to do, when things were good and happy. Some days he feels like she’s still here with him. He always wears the same thing he was wearing the day she left- black shirt, black shorts and a smile. 

Today he’s watching a woman who’s standing on one of the bridges. He’s already passed her twice, once she was lying on a rock near the parking lot, staring at the canopy of leaves overhead. He didn’t recognize her then, but then she and her companion passed by him on the stone stairs  and their eyes met. Even as his mouth opened for his customary greeting he recognized her.

“Good day.” 

“Hello.” 

The couple is gone before anything else can be said, but now she’s standing there alone again- too good to be true, it must be a sign. She’s come back at last. Charles's  pace quicks towards the bridge, she is reading the graffiti on the rail, absorbed in the scratchings of faded romance and family vacations. Too easy. It’s too easy. 

Charles  is standing so close to her by the time that she realizes he’s there that she tries to step back, but the bridge railing cuts her flight short. It’s always this way, animal instinct is outsmarted by human preparation. 

“Good day, Elenor.” 

“Um, hello- I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” 

She steps to the right, and Charles shifts his weight almost imperceptibly to counter her.

“Oh no dear, I know you- don’t you remember me?” 

She’s starting to look frantically over his shoulder now, trying to find her boyfriend or fiancé or whoever she’s cheating on Charles with this time.

“No, I don’t know you and you’re sort of making me uncomfortable- I’m sorry I have to go.”

She turns to step to the side and in one fluid motion Charles’s hand is on her wrist and twisting it so that she turns involuntary, his other hand clamps tight over her mouth. For a middle aged man, Charles is in very good shape.

She’s writhing now and trying to throw off his hand to scream- but even if she gets does there is no one to hear. The cuckolder is already dead. 

“Elenor, come now. You don’t need to be this way.” Charles puts an arm around her neck and slowly, gently begins to apply pressure. She fights at first but eventually sags, and as she drops he scoops her into a fireman’s lift. 

With a grunt, Charles walks up the trail two steps at a time until he comes to Their Waterfall, the one with the cave cleverly hidden behind the cascading water. The whoosh of the falls are deafening, but Charles doesn’t mind. No one can ever hear Elenor over the noise. 

He slowly deposits her on a moss covered boulder, and moves further back into the cave to gather the necessary equipment. On his way he greats the other Elenor’s he’s collected, 9, 8, 7, 6, and 5 still have white bones, 4, 3 and 2 are covered in a soft fuzz of  algae. 1 is almost completely greenish  brown now. 

But ten, ten will be perfect. 

Charles hums as he prepares, singing their song to himself. 

He always finds her. 

Always.