Harold stood at the top of Lover’s Leap, looking down into the churning waters of the river’s hundred foot drop.
“Don’t do it.” Jasfoup called from the riverbank.
Harold chuckled. “I was just wondering how many people must have jumped from here over the centuries.”
“Three,” said Jasfoup, turning around to watch a small log on the river speed up and hurtle over the edge. “A young couple who wanted to prove that God blessed their union and the girl’s father.”
“What happened to them?”
Jasfoup looked into the moiling pool at the bottom. “We had good trout that year.”
© Rachel Green 2007