New England IPA
Short Story by: Kristen Shoates
Sigríður stood at the edge of the waterfall, staring into the angry current and the unwelcoming rocks below. She felt dizzy from the height and the motion and the fear. Could she really do it?
She’d always loved this spot on her family's farm where the river cascaded over the rocks and into the canyon, the sunlight mirroring her golden hair, the frothy water frozen in time each winter. But now her father had leased those men the land, and there were whispers of a dam, of electricity, of destruction.
She'd pooled her money, taken on the country's richest men, and walked hundreds of miles to Reykjavik to ask the king to save her waterfall. And now, she was threatening to take the most drastic measure of all: to throw herself off the cliffs if they did not meet her demands.
She couldn’t have known that her lawyer would one day become Iceland’s first president and that Gullfoss would be forever preserved as a national park. Today, all she knew as she peered into the abyss and steeled herself to leap was that some things were worth saving. And like the raging current, she wasn't going out without a roar.
Like biting into a juicy orange in the best possible way.