Introducing “Life of River Banks”

A good friend of mine suggested the theme ‘Time is a river’ for my next blog post. I have begun writing a short, descriptive prose called “Life of River Banks”. I may turn this project into a three part short story rather than one single prose. I would love feedback from my followers and all that have visited my blog thus far before I dive too far. I can’t believe it has only been 4 days since I began my page. Please enjoy the short Prologue below and leave comments in addition to “likes” [If you like it that is!].I will release the first chapter upon completion. I started it just yesterday….FYI I took the featured photo at Jamestown Beach, Virginia, USA.

 

Life of River Banks

Prologue: The Birth of River Banks

 

                As the water rises, the roots can no longer hold on. The trees stand tall and mighty, as they have for centuries. However, no matter how strong their will, they lack in number. Eventually, the roots must let go as the mud becomes too loose. This dreadful water has eaten up the bank with its stones obsidian sharp. Erosion is our enemy. The army of trees stand defeated as the bank begins to burst. Victory lies within the birth of River Banks, so full of life.

 

 

I open my eyes to find a forest of vegetation. I’m not quite sure how I arrived here. The wind blows calmingly across the surface of my skin. My arm hairs stand attention, waving to the breeze. A soft whisper tickles the air. Ripples circle around me gently nudging me forward. I guess I must move. I cannot remain here, but where do I go? I am amongst uncharted territory. Everything is open to exploration. An army of trees surround me, seemingly defeated. Their branches hang low, leaves nearing the ground, as if they’ve lost some unseen battle. They are marked with wounds along their trunks, indicating many years of guarding the earth. I wonder what dreadful beast brought them to this gruesome state. At last, the breath of life still flows around them. I reach out to touch the bark of a soldier. As if testifying, a lullaby resonates through me. Pray tell me, are you alright?

A bird chirps a song of love while twiddling its feathers. I stand watch to see if someone answers unsure how long it may take. The sun shines its rays bright, peeking through the canopy. Small animals are at play inside the bushes. So many sounds fill the air while the little bird belts its song of songs. Chirping…rustling…singing…crying? What is the origin of such sadness? I turn to investigate, but notice a trickling of water dripping down my face. Touching my cheek, I turn red. It’s me! Why do I cry? What do these tears signify?

From some odd distance another bird has answered the call. The small animals have disappeared from the bushes. The sun’s rays have hidden themselves behind the clouds. The trees are still whispering the sweet lullaby, as the tears begin to consume me. I fear I may drown in my own sea of despair. I move towards the body of water to cleanse my face. Suddenly, I am swept up by the current. Wait! Stop! I gargle the last word into my mouth as I drift below the surface. The sun smiles from above. Sound becomes indistinguishable. I close my eyes. I am River Banks.

Mascherelle

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