Peccadillo

Mare Serenitatis

The clear icy surface of the river yawned in a thin tread of small waves. As they approached the clearing, the fog lifted and the birds hushed into a stifling silence. The water was off-limits, but they went nevertheless. It was fun to break the rules and search for the bubbles, they thought. They sloshed their hands in the water and grabbed a few. Shining, bobbing aimlessly, blue, brown, black, green, almost collectable, these spheres were magical. But it was impossible to keep them, they would shrivel and decay. So, seeing them in the clear icy water made it easy to forget that this was where the humans were left to die. The clear icy surface of the river yawned in a thin tread of small waves as they returned home thinking about their adventurous little dark secrets.

Writer's Dash