On a day very unlike this one, I set course on a path down by the brook. Cascading bubbles were generously forming over gleaning, sun-soaked rocks, all curiously oblivious at my approach. At least it seemed that way to me. Little did I know of what the day had in store, but that’s all the better… that’s really all the better I thought.
A wood was draped loosely on the opposite side of the brook, and was not like this one at all. Overgrown and haunting, it reached out in a yawning way and beckoned me forth. I succumbed. I always succumb. Water a bit brisk as I crossed in bare feet.
The cave people were waiting on the other side, at least it seemed so. All covered in fir and mud and abrasiveness. They beckoned to me, a bubbling invitation so fresh and newborn… but still, I froze… right there at mid-brook, a shiver had swelled.. a chill of uncertainty wrapped tight as a blanket. I froze.
I can’t follow you. I can’t really join you cave people. I don’t belong, not really.
On a day very unlike this one, I turned tail and headed home.
On a day very unlike this one, I had failed. All of my supposed courage was now lost in a breeze that kissed my cheeks as I ran. Dissolving into oblivion, still I wonder at the cave people.
I’ll ever wonder.
-I am Crandew