Little Fish, Big Fish
Ron Morelli

Poi Poisson shivered in the night air. She walked carefully, although Michael was not too far from her for her to fear any great danger, but still she was tentative in her step least she find herself reclaimed by her wild, infantile delusions. But the truth remained with her, wrapped around her throat as tight as her fingers were around her Kelly purse; there was a killer out there and she was his target and now the police were using her as bait as she walked with an uneasy grace through the Boise de Boulogne.

Poi stifled a gasp as a cyclist passed her. She was weary from the fatigue and the paranoia that ensnared and hooked her. Her every movement, every breath was heavy and tainted with the knowledge that if the police, if Michael, made a miscalculation the results would be fatal . . . to her.

Like Lot’s wife, Poi turned around to see if Michael was still there. She froze in mid-step when his familiar tall frame did not register in her sight. Her heart felt solid now, the acidic taste of bile rising up in her throat as she quickly scanned the horizon for him and saw no one except the bicyclist in the distance. A raw desire to be that bicyclist filled her. Oh to be able to ride a bike far away from this place! Away from the danger and the terror that seized her face, made her lips frozen and her eyes bulge in doubt and disbelief. Where was Michael? Where was her protector? And then an uncanny, sickening thought drifted down into the fibers of her soul. What . . . what if Michael were the killer? What if all of this were a red herring? Poi felt the sea of her paranoia fill her lungs at the notion.

It made sense in many ways, too many ways for Poi to calculate. She felt a seizure creep on, the damp creep of terror turning her limbs to iron, her soul to rust. She had to get out of Boise de Boulogne as soon as she possible could! But how?

“Think Poi, think!” she screamed at herself as suddenly the all too familiar figure of Michael appeared in the distance.

She ran without another thought. Ran deep and ran far away least he catch her and reel her in.



First published: August, 2004
comments to the writer: Knob'sWriter@iceflow.com