Beside the Riverbed

Photo: Ganked off Google.

[A reflection that could have meaning. Or then again, it may not. One never knows.]

I reached into the water and felt fingers. I was only just lying by the riverbed, making ripples to interrupt my reflection. There are unknown things in the shallow depths of the river, or at least I’ve been told. Warned, even. My master has forbidden me from reaching into the water, and finally, I have figured out why.

There is something–someone–in the water, and it wants to be fed. And I want to feed it, but I have nothing to give. For everything I own belongs to my master. I am not my own, and everything that veritably belonged to me, whether past, present, or future indubitably belongs to the one who locks me into my burden and brings me pieces of the outside as if they are gifts of kindness.

So here, by the riverbed that runs within the castle grounds, I lay, while my master keeps the peasants at bay. I have been forbidden to thrust my hands into the deceivingly clear waters, and taste its impurities. Yet, when I have been pushed beyond temptation at something swimming downstream, I thrust in my hand and I feel fingers. Fingers that grasp and reach but won’t grip. I feel … helpless.

I have thrust in my hand but the fingers only brush with mine, and I fear to jump in lest I drown, or even if I make it back out again, my master will be upset at my sodden appearance, and trailing unclean river water throughout the stronghold that has been toiled over since the beginning. Our arrangement will no doubt cease and I will be ejected from my fastness; the safety that has become my mainstay.

Yet to risk all is not a mistake, for everything worthy of a risk will depend on what is at stake, but to risk everything with no promise of prize is not only lunacy, it is idiocy. Therefore, it is hard to understand the message from the fingers. Oh I wish the creature could hear me. With the water rushing and our vision blurred, much water between us, we are from different worlds, however with invitation to matinee and my master’s return drawing near I must think; I must look upon the river waters and try to understand if the stain on my hand will disappear and if the creature will continue downstream. The fear I feel is real, and the struggle to keep staring into the abyss has nearly exhausted me.


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