A Novelist

At the Edge of the River

After having spent the last two weeks debating on whether or not the book should be destroyed, Edmund, at last, gave in.

“We’ll throw it in the river,” Benjamin said one evening, holding the entire book in his hands.  “It’ll be that simple.”

Edmund sat at his desk with his hands folded in his lap.  He didn’t look up to respond, but instead looked at the floor, thinking.

“You made the right decision.  All right?  Ed?”

But still, Edmund ignored him.

Frustrated, Benjamin pursed his lips and left the room.  It was always like Edmund to act childish when things weren’t going his way.  Still holding onto the book, Benjamin headed towards his room.  His brows furrowed and he found it strange that it didn’t take much convincing for Edmund to finally agree with him.  It was as if Edmund knew he would get the book back and that agreeing to destroy it was the only way to get Benjamin to leave him alone.  Shaking his head to get rid of such a thought, Benjamin set his mind on the date they would throw the horrible book into the river.

It was the eve of Edmund’s birthday when the two snuck out one snowy night.   Though it was March, England hadn’t fully escaped winter.  The book and its caretakers ran across the white world, heading toward the creek.  Benjamin led the way, hope giving a new light to his eyes as he held the rough pages of the story in his hands. Edmund followed behind, a different gleam smoldering in his eyes. 

“Come on, Edmund! Where’s the river again?”  Benjamin slowed down to a walk and bent over to breathe.  It was Benjamin’s idea to throw the story in the river, trusting the rough waters to carry it away forever.

Edmund came up and looked out around the snow-covered hills and fields.  “Oh, yes, it’s over here!  Remember the badger we caught?”

Benjamin stood up and smiled widely. “I do remember.  Yes, that’s right, the river would be there.”

The two of them sprinted off, this time with Edmund in the lead.  It wasn’t long before they tumbled into a remote field that looked the same in every direction.  Benjamin took a seat in the powdery ground and flicked up some snow in boredom.

“This doesn’t look right.” Benjamin turned his head behind him, trying to locate his surroundings; he didn’t recognize any of it.  He passed his tongue over his teeth in thought and then shrugged.  He turned around to talk to Edmund when a stinging pain rushed through his face.

“Edmund, are you crazy?”  Benjamin shouted, touching his numb face.  “This is third time you’ve hit me. Stop it!”  Before he had a chance to collect himself, Edmund sent another kick to his face, bringing blood to the editor’s mouth this time.  It was then Benjamin realized that he and Edmund hadn’t come for the same reason.

“Listen, friend, we are not throwing this into the river!  If we do, you’re going with it!” With firm, frightening strength, Edmund smothered Benjamin’s face into the snow and held it there with all his might.  Benjamin desperately fought back and once he had freed himself, he caught sight of Edmund holding the fountain pen like a dagger.  Before he could move, Benjamin felt a surge of pain between his neck and shoulder.  In a violent jerk, Benjamin threw Edmund off of him, screaming.

It wasn’t until he saw the pen lodged between Benjamin’s shoulder and neck that Edmund realized he had missed.  He must have closed his eyes at the last moment.  Seeing Benjamin scrambling to his feet, Edmund tried regaining his stance first.  But the ground was slippery and served him no aid.  Edmund cowered to the ground, holding his hands up for mercy.  “Please, Benjamin, I didn’t mean it!  Please!”