

The FlowThe water laps on the canoe playfully as it floats down the tunnel headed for the light as if there might be something there to help, but without the strength to run, or even walk, but relying on a slow swaying crawl as the canoe hits the sides and the bottom of the tunnel. Her hand rests just off the side gently brushing the surface of the water, almost asleep now, she rides the canoe as it lurches on it's path along the water, unable to go against the flow. She fears the dark of the tunnel, remember what had come out of the shadows before, knowing they might still come back one day. She fears the light even more, afraid of what might be outThe Flow
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