The River
She’s more of a quiet bubbling stream, inviting and serene. Open to any who need a quick break or drink of cool water on their journey. If a traveler chooses to stay for a bit longer, to enjoy the peace and her songs, they will be wrapped in warm breezes and serenading lullabies. But the stream is humble and can’t supply a house, were the traveler to choose to build one on her banks. Her levels will drop and she will be the first to pray for rain—hoping no one notices how her babbling brooks have quieted down. And the relief of rain will come but she, too, is a traveler, fearsome in her understanding, joyous as she feels her nature run free. And so the stream looks elsewhere, eager and wanting to nurture and support this traveler that calls her home. She swims upstream to her source, unsure what she’ll find but willing to try to improve, to help.
The source she finds isn't high in the mountains but in a crack between stones in a wall not too far away—deliberate fabricated. She feels the distant, downstream scrape of a pail, the gasping of a dry pump, and decides to widen the crack just a bit. A small chip won’t hurt. But as her fingers graze the weathered edges of the stones, she feels a dangerous lurch—a resonating sound growing in volume. The stones themselves hold back something awful, strong and so deep, so vast she’s scared to look for fear of never finding her way back to her calm clearing.
The stones shiver at her lingering touch, a numbness deepened by time has been unsettled, disturbed. If these stones, time forgotten, wake up and release the force they have been holding fast, the valley will be flooded indiscriminately, uncontrollably. The traveler and their house crushed under the roaring waves. But if she adds a few more supporting stones to the wall, and calms the rest, she can return to her valley—her lovely valley. But the traveler will have to leave. She will be alone again for some time before she is replenished and unassuming enough for weary travelers to turn to again.
The stones creak and she runs. Runs along her well-worn tracks and loses the memory between shining scales and bright green touches. She settles again in a sun-warmed pool and falls asleep to dreams of gentle rains and unfurling flowers.