Forest           by Molly

Winds whip at your hair.  The only sound is the soft crackling of the leaves under your feet.  You step forward onto the river bank.  Your bare feet feel good in the cool, dark mud.  Ducks shake their tawny feathers as they waddle ashore.  Their webbed feet slap against the mud, like tiny rain boots.  You step into the coolness of the pond.  Your torn shorts and T-shirt are soaked.  You have been out there for days, trapped in a labyrinth  of trees and puddles.  A soft rain has just passed, sprinkling the leaves like tiny crystals.  A rock looms in front of you.  You put your bruised leg on it.  The smooth surface is refreshing.  Another rock sits in place like a soldier waiting for battle.  Slowly, so slowly, you cautiously step on to the rock.  It is bumpier than the last.  Farther and farther you step, rock after rock, and then, sitting there in the middle of a pond, is one last rock.  You step onto the rock.  It is covered in algae. You slip and fall.  Through the air, flying through the silent atmosphere.  Splash!  Your screams break the silence.  Your soaked, bruised, cut face pops out of the water.  You lift a tattered arm to grasp the nearest rock.  Clasping at the rough surface, your hand finally gets a grip.  You give up on rocks and swim to shore.  You heave your dripping body onto dry land.