Silent River

May 15, 2008
By Joshua Gonsalves, Lakeville, MA

It was a peaceful, silent, autumn day. The leaves were abandoning their homes and gently gliding to the ground. The birds were chirping as they left their nests to fly south for the winter. Other than that the only noise that could be heard was the soft trickle of the river flowing by in an never ending cycle. It was around this time the river started to slow down and take away life itself. But none of this mattered to a young boy; because in a young boys eyes everything is forever.

The young boy approached the river. Humming a song with a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in another, He turned a corner dodged a tree and found what he was looking for. He was standing before a large rock that he and his father discovered many months ago and have gone fishing off of many times. The rock was tall like a small car, with a width and length of a large dinning table. He climbed up the rock, skillfully using the curves and holes placed there thousands of years ago by passing glaciers. He placed the fishing pole and tackle box to the left of him and looked down at the river. ‘What a magnificent sight this is’ thought the boy. Scanning the river he saw, a small fish swim by jumping up and grabbing a quick bug for lunch. He
opened the tackle box, which was filled with a variety of hooks, bobbers and bait; and grabbed the first hook he found. He tied it to the line and put some bait on. He found the perfect spot to drop the line. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours, until the boy fell into a quiet sleep. The boy awoke when his fishing line jerked. He started to reel in the fish, but it broke free of the line and swam away cheerfully leaving a disappointed child sitting on a rock.

He stood up grabbed the fishing pole and tried fixing the line, and with a single hand fumbling around everything in that tackle box, he tried finding a hook. With a holler of pain the boy looked down at his finger to see a hook fully engorged in his finger. Blood oozed out of his fingers and he panicked. He started to cry and pace around the rock. He tried to pull it out but only made it worse. As the pain increased he started to pace faster and scream harder until, his feet slipped and he tumbled into the river. His head went under the icy water he kicked and frayed to get his head above the surface but his lungs were burning with the sensation to breath. Panic set in and creped into his mind; breath breath. Fatally he made the
mistake of listening to his brain and opened his mouth. Water entered his mouth down his throat and infiltrated his lungs. He couldn’t get the water out. His heart pounded faster and harder. It felt as though it would break through his chest and burst out. His body jerked violently until his heart slowed and peace descended on the small limp frame. He had drowned that day. The lake froze over as winter approached leaving the child’s body on the river bed. As the current dragged the lifeless body wherever it wished, until the spring came.




Finally the remains of the boy came to the shore line of a small pond where the river ended. His body began to peacefully decay. When summer ended his body was gone but in place of his body were flowers, which had grown over his final resting place. In the hills full of flowers, symbolizing other misfortunate children. The cycle of the silent river repeats.

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