Sunday, January 26, 2014

The Rushing River (Creative Writing - Highland Hall 1974)

I was standing on the west bank looking for a place to cross. The river was very deep in the middle which meant that I would be forced to swim. The water rushed angrily over the half-sunken rocks which were scattered in different places making the whole scene very treacherous. The water stunned me for a split second as I placed my feet in what seemed to be below freezing water. I started towards the other side, stumbling over the slippery rocks below. Thigh deep, the turbulence began to throw me off balance. I climbed up on one of the outcroppings. From where I was standing, it seemed like there was about fifteen feet of river ahead of me before I would be able to stand up without being dragged away.

I curled my fee over the rocks as best I could, crouched over and sprang off. Straightening myself in mid-air, I was able to plunge through the icy water with a minimum of friction. I came up to the surface screaming in agony as the cold literally penetrated my flesh all the way to the bone. I used every stroke I knew but to no avail. I became a victim of the mighty force of the current. I managed to keep my feet in front of me and my head above the water as I floated down the river, narrowly preventing a fatal collision with a large rock!

Frantically, I looked around for anything to grab onto. One hundred yards ahead of me, an enormous log floated by very slowly. "This is my only chance", I said to myself. The log turned out to be bigger than I thought. Exhausted, I managed to crawl up on it. My only wish was to somehow make it to shore. After what seemed like hours, my spirits were lifted as the river wound its way around a bend and terminated into large, expansive lake. I jumped off of the log and swam joyously to shore. I got off and lay down on the warm, sandy beach, breathing a thankful sigh of relief that I had made it out alive.

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