Blogs - novelgames

Whether it had been a mistake to drive out to the old weir on that late autumn day? Who knows? I was strolling on my standard walk along the river side when it all started.

I was about 10 – 12 meters above the river bed close to the old forlorn bone-yard when I hit this movable thing. My boot kicks it about half a meter into the grassy field by the side of the pathway. It feels like a small angular object made of plastic or metal. I bow down to lift it out of the high grass. The long grass scrapes sharp as glass against the back of my hand. Sliding my finger across the cracked display the last camera shot shows up.

I scan the premises around me. No signs of a fall or skid marks that would point to a human body. Still, there is a distinct scratch on the back of the mobile phone and a small crack at the back of the plastic casing. Obviously the damage could be older but the more I think about it the more I draw the conclusion that there is more evidence against that theory than for it. I quickly abandon the thought that the camera picture could have been staged. The attacker’s mask is just as scary as the fist flung towards the camera.

After an in depth inspection of the image I am almost certain that the mobile’s owner must have been knocked down in cold blood and the drop must also have resulted in the mobile’s damage.

As there are no other hints or traces to be found I commence on my path still hoping to gain additional insight. Five minutes further down the river I stop to light up a cigarette looking at some old shipping containers before I continue on my usual path down the old concrete stairs on the left side of the weir.
In front of my lies the concrete road with embedded railroad tracks leading across the river, flanked by some tech buildings on the left right above the dammed riverside. On this side of the river the rails end in a store house barred by a heavy iron gate. Habitually and especially today I brood over the things that could be hidden behind it while I continue on my stroll towards the other river bank due to weird occurrence with a faster pace than usual. A few wild geese are cackling excitedly as if they wanted to mute the horn of a truck going off nearby.

Upon completing my way across the river into the darkening shadows underneath a road bridge I turn around to take a look across the expanse of the dammed water at the old weir buildings. The bridge above me runs nearly parallel to the dam across the river. The parking area where I left my car lies across on the other side of the river to the left of the bridge. I extinguish my cigarette on a granite slab and put the stub back into the half empty pack. The geese which had taken off for their evening round a short while ago have meanwhile disappeared behind the trees. If I weren’t feeling so impatient I would wait for night to fall, ignoring the foul smell of the river mud and the noise of the traffic above me drowning all of nature’s sounds, to carefully move in on the enclosed areas of the weir premises under its blanket.

Maybe however it was just naked fear hiding behind my impatience; the fear to draw unnecessary attention and to get myself into an unforeseeable amount of danger. I therefore decide to turn around and make my further strange discoveries in the remaining daylight.

Back at the weir the dammed waterside is now lying to my right. The reflections of the greenish black water flicker like conspiring shadows over the walls surrounding the deep pool beneath me. I don’t know whether I am following an intuition or whether the whoosching noise of the water is calling to me. I lean lightly over the banisters feeling a cold cushion of air pressing against my face and surrounding me like an invisible cloud a moment later.

And then I spot it there… floating in the dark water…