Fiction: Group 3
The River
Discovery College (Primary), Toor, Perlei - 13, Fiction: Group 3
he river flows continuously with the seconds, changing, forming, observing, and crying out with
the rushes that meet each other for the millionth, yet very first time. I slide my foot in the edge of
the river, just my toes playfully greeting the cold water. The water picks up the touch, smell, and
sight of my toes and brings it to wherever the river takes it, so that when another person walks upon this
river, we will be silently joined, only the river knowing the secrets of both.
Today I thought I was coming to the same river where my mother drowned, to step in the same soil she
took her last step, to feel the same water rushing over me, and the same trees coddling me with shade.
I had
been scared to see everything again, afraid all the memories would come back flooding over me, swallowing
me in pain and fear.
I was wrong.
Nothing is the same. Everything changed, and time took my mother with her. The way she used to smell
like the warm sun on grass in the morning. How she used to stroke my hand until I left my troubles in my
sleep, leaving her behind in the mess of the day. The way she used to kiss me goodnight, and tell me that
she’d take care of me, then turning around, walking back to our harassment. The bruises she would try to
hide from me, just like she hid her worries. How she would tell me stories about what it would be like once
we were safe, and father was removed from out lives. How she used to tell me how her parents married her
off, and how she fought to be with her true love, her voice quivering with dejection. The river took it all as
she fell deeper, surrendering to the depths of the water.
She came to my bed one night, bent down, stroked my face and told me we needed to run now, while we
could. We darted of as fast as we could; the dead branches hurting as they stroked out bruises and cuts. A
sudden noise startled us, and we turned to find father was suddenly behind us, a sinister smile on his vile
face. We were so close to freedom, our feet already touching the river, and all we had to do was cross.
I step further into the river, the water now up to my chest. It circles around me, and I breathe in the ever-
changing air one last time, conforming to the water that took my mother, and I sink into the rapidly flowing
river. The water that carried my mother is now carrying me, as I hold my breath. It drags me through the
path my mother took, and the river changes for me one last time. I finally become the river.
T
