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Creative Writing: Olentangy River

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The officers heave a soaking body from the Olentangy River onto a yellow stretcher. I nuzzle my nose into my burgundy muffler as the frigid December winds whip at my face, almost as if it caught me staring at the tall figure that stood down by the river. I shove my hands into my tan trench pockets, making sure to stay concealed amongst the nosy bystanders who whisk out their flip phones and gawk as the police guide the stretcher back to the bank of the river. The tall man gestures for the crowd to move back. Frank and Zach soon join me. “It can't be him,” Zach murmurs. Yet, there he is. Maybe he's unconscious. I shake my head at the thought. Who am I fooling? He's dead. Murdered and tossed into the river like a fish you …show more content…

I'm beginning to regret this seating arrangement. Mr. Rivers lets us pick a new seat every week and I decided it was a good idea to sit by Zach and in front of Frank. Zach doesn't even attempt to keep his staring a secret but I can feel the burn of Frank's glare, however, whenever I glance back at him, he pretends he's not imagining me being in the river instead of Johnny.
I wasn’t good friends with Johnny like Frank was, so I find it hard to be empathetic when Mr. Rivers asks us all to pray for his family. I look around as everyone bows their heads and fold their hands over their desks. I pretend to mimic them but really I just stare at the empty seat in the front of the class, then to the window. I watch as the sun finally peeks out from underneath the snow showers as Mr. Rivers resumes on the topic of biology.
I don't look forward to returning home. I never do. I head out on the path that all four of us usually take after school. Down through Northmoor Park, then past the river road trail to the Olentangy, then make our split at the crossroads. Sometimes we stop down by the river and study there but it's been far too cold to do that lately. I kick a stone. Then again, and again, until I made it all the way to the park with it. I pick it up and skip across the river. It's turbid and wailing harshly with the wind, not quite frozen all the way through yet. I guess that's where the ‘Old and Dingy’ name comes

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