Wading Deep

Behe­moth.

The word had been a part of his vocab­u­lary for as long as he could remem­ber (which was pret­ty long, con­sid­er­ing his first flash­es of mem­o­ry turned out to be from a trip his par­ents had tak­en him on when he was two-and-a-half). He liked to roll it around on the tongue of his imag­i­na­tion as he wad­ed bare-legged through the murky waters of the creek behind the house. There would nev­er be room for any crea­ture wor­thy of the name in such a wind­ing rib­bon of water, but if he imag­ined him­self very small then the scale made it feel pos­si­ble.

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