JP Fosterson

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Story — The Plunge Pool — Reposted as complete story


My story, The Plunge Pool, originally published as a five-part serial on Lit Up, has been reposted there as a single-page story. It is about 9000 words, or a 34 minute read.

Here is an excerpt.

I climbed to our ledge. All the locals above the falls were on their feet. Near the edge of the woods, four or five of the punks faced off against Mustache Guy and handful of his friends. The rest of the punks were gone. Tammy and Tommie stood between the two groups. Tommie was holding the punks back, trying to herd them all toward the parking lot with his giant wingspan. The punks shouted and pointed and made a show of trying to get past him. Tammy stood toe-to-toe with Mustache Guy, one tiny finger in his face. Mustache guy grimaced, his brows drawn together and coiled like two snakes ready to strike.

“What happened?” I asked.

Bandanna girl answered, “Don’t know exactly. The black kid, with the mohawk, walked past the dude with the mustache and they started talking. Seemed okay for a minute, but then a couple more punks came over, and Mustache stood up. It just snowballed from there. The other punks started coming over, then everyone stood up and it became a whole thing.”

“Where’s the guy now? Mohawk?” I tried not to say the black guy, but that’s what everyone was thinking.

“Halfway to the road, I hope. He didn’t want to back down, but once all the locals stood up, his friends had the sense to drag him out of there. Look around this place. Honestly, I gotta hand it to the guy for even coming down here.”

There was a shout from Tammy that I could almost understand over the noise of the falls. Two of Mustache Guy’s friends grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. Tammy turned around and said something to the punks, and they turned toward the woods and walked away. Mustache Guy leaned against his friends’ grip and yelled something. He pointed toward the hills and the road. Tammy turned and glared at him. The punks disappeared into the woods. Tammy and Tommie followed.

Mustache guy watched them go out of sight. Then his friends started trying to turn him away and distract him. He glared in our direction for a few seconds, then went back to his grill and fished a beer from a cooler, but he kept turning and shouting things at his friends and pointing toward the parking lot.

“Why don’t we hang out down there for a while,” said Vin, pointing down at the pond, out of Mustache Guy’s line of sight.

“Good idea,” I said. “Where the fuck is Warren?”