The Heavens Below

Scarf:2

Part 2: A world of his own

        He ran. And once he reached the trees, he kept running.
Along its edge in search of a stick, a sword, to pierce the dense wall.
He found it, about the length of his arm and just as thick. Which, to be fair, was not very.
   He began to twhack and stab his way into the darkness. Shouting in triumph as the vines gave way. Thorns close to snagging him by less than an inch.
   But still he could feel the other side, see the sun and hear the birds.
  He broke through with a crash.
   And once you made it past the threatening outer wall, you entered another world.

   The warm tawny trees were so thick at the base a dozen of him couldn't wrap their arms around them.
    The sun pierced the treetops in long golden tendrils. Giving light and warmth in its beams.
   The grass was lush and green. With full bushes with sweet smelling flowers and berries. The latter, bitter, he unfortunately found out, and they made his throat sting. But they were nice to look at.
    The air was sweet and it was always cool and clean. More so in the shade, and warm where golden streaks of light touched the ground.
     There was always singing high above in the branches, though you never saw the choir.
    There was the faint sound of croaking and chirping. Crickets and bugs crawling beneath his feet.
      Everything was always so alive here. And it was all his own. Here, he was king.
      The boy took a deep breath and ambled through his garden. No one there, but him and the occasional toad. He had all the time in the world.    
   He jabbed the dirt with his stick. Usually, he would leave it where he had broken through the thorns, but today he wanted to keep his sword at his side.
"Does she think I'm a baby or something? I mean, what sort of coward do they think I am?"
he shouted to the tree.
The tree did not respond.
"I'm not afraid!" he shouted to no one.
   And he smirked when no one told him otherwise.
  After all, he was the bravest person here.
  He went on running again, dodging between the obstacles, looking for something new to investigate. Stopping occasionally to thwack at a bush or examine a flower.
   He held his twig as his mighty weapon, hitting branches and brush as he scoured his kingdom. And then he kept going.
  He ran and ran until his legs and face burned and everything was a green blur around him. Until his feet were all but gone and he felt like he could fly.
He ran, and slid to a stop.
He had reached the creek.

It was small. Cool, clear water trickling over dark silt and smooth pebbles. You were likely to hear it before you saw it.
  It was quiet here, but deafening at the same time.
  The bubbling of the water, the birds above him, the hums of frogs and dragonflies. The quiet sound of the world existing all around him. He loved it more than anything.
   And when you looked past the creek, it was exactly the same. Green. And alive. And undaunting.
    The boy looked to the sky.
  Save for some clouds moving overhead, the sun was still high, it couldn't be past noon. But water was the signal.
'Turn around' he heard his mother's stern voice in his head, 'you've gone far enough'.
He sighed and shuffled his feet. He could go back. But..today he couldn't.
  He looked beyond the creek. Beyond his mother. Beyond what he couldn't see.
  There was something there.
    There was something new and exciting and alive on the other side.
He had to find what, wherever, whoever this was.
He had to know.
   He gazed over the slow-moving water, and saw himself staring back.
"I'm not afraid."
He leaned towards the creek.
"I'm not afraid."
He lifted his foot.
"I'm not afraid."
He carefully placed it on smooth mud on the other side.
"I'm not afraid."
He let his body follow suit, feeling the silt welcome his weight.
He looked down at himself. He was on the other side.
   He had done it.
The creek was at his back. He was in the unknown.
And he was not afraid.

Unfortunate, fate was watching close.