Old river

Well i was sitting there thinking about shiny stones, and then i thought i want to right a story about water and a shiny stone, and well this is what appeared from that idea

I sit , knelt up slightly on me knee's by the old stream about 30 miles out from where live. Panting slightly disturbing the air patterns of this rancid summer heat. I lean back my hands fumbling along the dry neglected ground, moving millions of dust particles eagerly along the shore of the old river.

The sun beats down upon my pale complexion , already turning a bright red color. No shade for miles, or perhaps none at all. Ive never really looked just cooked slightly in the summer sun.

I dip my head slowly into the stream, the cold icy blast stinging my flushed face , i lap at the water. Desperately like some dog ambling in from an hour long run , tongue loll'ing thirsty at the life giver flowing endlessly down a passage.

My hair becomes wet and cooling and i fall back upon the ground my breath escaping from my lunges in a long deep sigh, feeling the solid connection with the dust coated earth as it falls agasint my grazed arms.

Next to me is a particularly smooth pebble, glinting in the light , shining like some great treasure and i am drawn toward it like a magpie to some silver. I reach out , curious and stroke its cold hard surface. Not a crack or a contour , smooth as a baby's bottom. Its perfection seems almost impossible to me, a clean fresh dark color. Not a blemish or a smudge. Almost like someone has photoshopped its existence to make it without one error or mistake.

I hold it, bounce it gently in my grasp. Feel its weight fall from finger to finger , let is slip between my palms. Stroking my fingertips gently.

My attention is not held for long , i am still young my mind flutters here and there onto distant things and wondering thought tracks. Like a train switching lanes and all from previous ideas seems to drift out the window. 

I fling the stone, aiming for the very centre of the river, watching as it plunges into the murky deaths. Admiring the ripples seeping from the collision. First small little ringlets around the point of contact, then larger and larger. Disturbing all that lays on the water's surface. Sending little water flies spiraling into the air , fearful of the little waves bubbling on the surface.

Strange that, how such a little stone can create such a drastic effect. Changing all that lies around and editing a little part of the world forever. A part of the world we cant take back or unchange, its done for good now. To be honest every little movement we make edits the world in a way dosent. Just me sitting here probably killed a million micro-organism and every time i breathe i move the air a little, dispersing something or other in the opposite direction.

I look up absent mindedly and i am greeted by the blinding light extending from our sun, i wince and cover my eyes, rub them quickly and turn away. Two little light blobs dab around my vision one pink and one blue. As i look from left to right they dance across my eye line. Pretty ,  but another reason not to look at the sun on a hot summers day.

One last dip i think to myself and ill head home for lunch, my tummy rumbles at the thought. Thinking of the large banquet of various assorted edible items my mother normally puts on display. Jam sandwiches rich in the red cream as it drips from the edges after each succulent bite, nuts and fruits scattered along the table in a beautiful display of colors. Warm soup, and cold lemonade. The choice is endless. She always does leave a nice variation to choose from.

Leaning into the water one last time i take note of how different it feels from the air. How the change is sudden and almost appears without no warning, how my pores soak in the very water, refreshing and cleansing my salty face. Drinking it slowly letting the cool gentle liquid seep down my dry throat and give me a little sustenance for the journey home.

I pull my head out and my eyes follow a sparkling blue dragon fly as it whips around the bend  in the river. Beautiful creatures, tremendous in fact the intricate markings that line there slim bodies enthrall my mind every time. I have pictures of them stuck to my bedroom wall of every single color. I love dragonflies perhaps they are the modern smaller , less volatile more tame. But never the less just as mysterious and beautiful.

I stand up and brush the dust from my knee's , my shorts have crumpled slightly from sitting but it dosent bother me. I dont care to much who sees my scabbed and cut knees. The battle scars, from my adventures in the real world out here by the river.I once ran all the way along only to slip and fall in at the end trying to dive out the way of a bounding puppy. It was funny, i paddled around for a while until mother came down to find me. She wasn't happy , told me id got my clothes all muddy and sent me to bed without tea. It was wroth it. But i best get back now, im hungry and if i make mother mad i wont get to taste the delitaful display of bowls and plates , most propberly all ready set out waiting for my eager tongue to test.

Breathing in the fresh air one last time i ready myself. And then as quick as  i came i sprint back past the old river and make my way back into town to catch the bus back home into the four walls of my little cottage.

Reviews

[A.Lee]

This is good. You did well with your details and descriptions in this piece.

[Jibey]

A very pleasing scene... with the water and the atones playing their part in a kind of escape and refreshment piece, a moment of quiet solitude and sensual pleasure, a time when, like a child, we revel in our freedom before running back home...

A striking and vivid episode...