The River

The life of a River from birth to leaving behind an offspring.

It starts as a tickling brook playing amid the rocks, before growing into a steady stream.  The early days of the River are fuelled with wanderings and lazy loops.  It has a mind of its own with no one deciding where it goes - indeed the most impudent of nature’s gifts.

 

Cascading down the mountainside, it goes into a teenage River, moving energetically and free, frolicking with those it encountered.  Wild dogs and armadillos, bison and Black Bear, they all splashed and drank as the River slows down and flirts with the human-free desert.  Filled with a certain glee, it takes one curve and then another, an Ox-Bow here, an Ox-Bow there.

 

But then the danger appears.  Starting in the form of little pipes protruding into the sides of the River, spouting brown liquids, filling anything it touched with poisonous toxins.

 

A great desire to escape these toxic straws consume the River.  It starts to flow faster towards the ocean that sits like a king on the horizon.  But the purpose of the river feels small and pointless.  Is that all there is?  Just a straight shot from mountain to sea?

 

When the Black Bear was drinking, it had a cub an offspring.  Surely something as mighty and powerful as the River can have an aqua lineage that would continue exploring the world?

 

Like an electrical current dancing on the ground, the River surged towards the ocean.  Turning into the final long stretch a few miles long, the River made up its mind to create something lasting.  So with less than a mile before the magnificent splendour of waves, the River sprung a Tributary so small it was almost unseen.  But it was there.  Tiny and wild like a sugar-filled infant, this little affluence of water sprang away from the River with boundless energy.  It rolled and gargled over tree trunks, under boulders and gave no care for the plastic pollutants that was in its way.  The destination for this little one was not the ocean.  The flow of this finger of life-giving liquid was going straight to what the humans called, a ‘Great Lake’.

 

The River crashed into the ocean.  The knowledge and memories mix with those from all over the world.  There was confidence and swagger because there was a part of it left behind.  It would always be alive, and no matter how small you start or how steep the mountainside, you can still leave behind something that could be Great.

Author's Note

These stories are inspired by real people, and are written within 30 minutes or so in front of that very person, with the aim to spread positivity through social media, so please keep that in mind if critiquing.