I leaned over to catch my breath, and sweat slowly trickled down the side of my face leaving dark circles on my shirt. I lifted my head and took in the masterpiece of a landscape that stood in front of me. Young, green leaves sprouted from the trees. Cool water rushed down the banks, taunting me. The wind broke through …show more content…
I leaped from rock to rock avoiding even the slightest drop of red liquid on me. The round, rickety bridge aided me over long distances leaving hints of splinters on my now bare feet. Rocks were unstable, rocking slightly as I shifted my weight. I had to think on my feet, or the rock would fall, and I would be dinner for the bubbling molten below. Finally, I could see the horse pasture where I knew I would be safe.
Soon a sour stench penetrated my nostrils, but I was young and unbothered. The beautiful green pasture was a battlefield. I stooped behind trees and large barricades careful to keep out of sight. I breathed lightly leaving only the sweet symphonies from overhead. The engines roared over the melodies, and I knew I had been spotted. I pulled out my sword and my trusty steed – Jack Russell – arrived at my side.
The enemy approached me slowly as if it were sneaking up to surprise me. I drew my long, brown sword into the air to challenge it, sweat revisiting my brow. The beast eyed me, and I attempt to maintain a brave countenance. The creature’s paws slowly scraped the dirt, and its lip curled up into a snarl. Now, the monstrosity stared deep into my soul. A low growl broke through its thin lips. It pounced. Just as claws overshadow me I heard a distant scream. When I opened my eyes I was holding a stick in the middle of a horse …show more content…
I took the same forest path. I saw the same trees. The same sweaty, summery smells filled my nose. Yet, nothing was the same. The creek was no longer flowing lava. Water seemed to work harder to fight through the path over the rocks. The flow was no longer carefree and light, but rather worn and tired. The leaves were no longer the young sprouts they once were. They evolved into tattered brittle beings that were inches away from falling to ash.
The horse pasture wasn’t an ancient battlefield full of barricades and beasts to be slayed. It was only a horse pasture-nothing more. The filthy aroma once again filled my nose. The old trees hung over me tiredly. I was alone. What was once my long sword was a thin twig lying beaten on the ground. The hot, humid air consumed me and I longed to go home. I yearned for the comfort of my television and cell phone.
In that moment, when revisiting the creek, I didn’t understand why I ever loved being there so much. I was ignorant to what drew me to some old, ragged, creek that reeked of manure and dirty flowing water. I didn’t understand what was so special about a place that seemed so distant from my natural scene: I never thought I would