The Evening River

Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

The rough, dry trunks of the towering eucalyptus trees blocked the view in front of me, causing me to blindly trudge through the woods with no sense of direction like a lost kitten plodding aimlessly. The sound of my feet stomping upon fallen dried leaves and bark was joined by the harmonious soft singing of cicadas, coming out to welcome the humid night approaching.
“Where’s the house?” I muttered quietly.
My uncle had told me to follow the main river, where I would eventually find it. But first of all, where was this river?
With beady eyes, I scanned my surroundings. Through the thicket of trees, shades of orange shined. I accelerated, hitting away the drooping thin branches that sagged. Pushing the rustling curtain of gum branches, it grandly revealed a lake.
A lake so still and peaceful that anything that suddenly dropped into it would shatter it, destroying its illusional beauty.
This was the river uncle mentioned.
A gently mist lay upon the orange waters, reflecting the soothing, bright colour of the setting sun, slowly hiding behind the towering woods. Stray, thin trees poked out of the orange, becoming foggy silhouettes.
Eyes glued to the bewildering view in front of me, I stepped closer to the river bank, crunching dry weeds that sprouted from the barren, infertile dirt, littered with stranded bark and nuts.
The scent of fresh water and strong, minty eucalyptus wafted into my nostrils. With my dark eyes, I made out the shape of a beak. Followed by a long neck and feathered body that stretched out graceful wings, like the swift movements of a dance.
“A crane!” I thought as its skinny legs protruded down, soothingly piercing the water, rippling silently. Its head nodding for a moment, it opened its beak, cawing a squawk that echoed across the river and throughout the forest, like a mighty lion’s roar; less menacing, more awing for the vastness of the sound.
Glancing to my left, the waters curved to the side, hiding behind the trees. Across my right, the river flowed around a familiar hill of yellow grass, tussocks sprouted everywhere. On top of it was a house with eucalyptus trees towering over its veranda. Its country, wooden exterior gave a cosy feel. The chimney that protruded proudly on its flat tile roof was puffing clouds of smoke.
There’s uncle’s house.
Pacing uphill, I forced energy into my calves. As I arrived at the timber porch, I held onto the post and drooped, panting to catch my breath.
The last ray of sun reflecting the slightly opened windows, I peeked, watching auntie getting ready to take something out the oven. Uncle seated himself at the dining table. When she opened the oven door, the scrumptious scent of roast turkey wafted through the window gap, into my nose. Delicious! I could almost taste its savouriness already. I licked my lips, grinning. Auntie’s turkey was exquisite!
I stepped towards the white oak door. Lifting a lightly clenched hand, I knocked.

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