At first Ingrid only swam when she could get a babysitter, but eventually the call of the water was so strong, she left her children sleeping; always returning before they woke and never telling Rex what she had done.
She especially liked to swim in the early mornings after the river flooded. The idea of submerged paths and fences and even barbed wire lying beneath the still, grey water, thrilled her.
And when she returned home, goose-bumped and muddy, her hair would drip onto the cheeks of her sleeping children, and she would promise to never leave them again.
Sorry that this week’s story is about wild swimming again, but I’m having a bit of thing about it in the book I’m writing. (To read last week’s, click here.)
For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this beautiful picture (this time supplied by Erin Leary) is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click here to read other people’s amazing stories or to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.