A journey to find home

I stole towards the door, my backpack laden with food and water to survive me for 1 month. Opening the main outer door of the house where I lived, I peered up into the night sky. It was pitch black: there was not even a star that would give me a sign that what I was about to do was correct. I sighed, then I stepped towards the bridge that crossed the river. 

It was a winding river that stretched far beyond our village’s view. On both ends it passed the horizons, winding its way into the dusty sunset or the early morning light. The river sustained the population along its banks: it provided fish and water, and trade happened on boats that floated in its waters. It formed the backbone of all activities of the village; be it festivals or economic activity to a source of food and a spring of water. Effectively, the river breathed life into the otherwise dead community.

Yet, the river had suffered decline. I know it was strange to describe a river like a country past its golden peak, but it was the most suitable term. As the days passed, the river looked more greenish grey and more cloudy. It was as if a watery sand storm was happening within its waters; mud from the sides and riverbed dislodging and swirling around continuously, in an unstoppable clockwork that at the end spelled water pollution. There had been more accidents on the river too, people falling over and drowning every month. In addition, the fish supply had been dropping too and more people had no more livelihood. 

And it had all been blamed on me. 

As a baby, I had floated down the river from upstream into the community. Then, from that year onwards, the river had dropped into decline as mentioned above. Being the superstitious people they were in the village, of course, they said I was so called “unlucky”. Hence, as I walked around the village to finish my errands, I received averting eyes and pointed fingers. Once, there was a maniac that ran screaming about it down the street. 

(I would like to point out that he was a maniac; his words were not to be trusted.) How many people would like to feel like they were ostracised by just about everyone else, including the 4 year olds? Alone, I would say. Also angry and sad. 

Even my family, or should I say foster family, was not a fan of me. I must assume that they were nice enough to keep me, but honestly, they were just providing for me. 

Because of all this, I was here in the middle of the night, at the foot of the bridge over the river.

The water was turbulent despite the depth of the night when everything else was slumbering. I could see dark water rising and falling over and over again, its velocity extremely great. I stared at the flimsy bridge that led me to the other side. It was in disrepair, having multiple broken planks and rotten sections of handrails: a weakling; nothing compared to the power and might of the agitated river. 

I took a deep breath, then placed my foot on the first plank. The waters just below my foot calmed! I took another step, and it happened again.

Perhaps the river knew I was trying to cross? I wondered. After all, it was the only way to get across other than taking a boat in the morning, which was the exact of what I wanted to do: broadcast my departure on a day of a festival, causing people to further name me ‘unlucky’. 

The river was not just long but wide too. Thus, it took me about 5 min to cross over to the other bank. When I turned back, the river was back to its original agitated self. Was it magic? I questioned. As I looked back upon the silent village shrouded in the hazy fog of darkness, I knew it was time to go. 

I trekked close to the water, away from the shadowy forest that flanked the river and the village. The darkness in the forest leered at me, as if mocking me for my stupidity to leave a civilised place, for the unpredictability of the wilderness in a quest to find my origin. I did not even know how far I had drifted down the river, whether my biological parents were still alive, whether there was anything up ahead. Yet still I paced on, knowing that life in the village would be no better.

Finally, the day broke and the sun slowly crept into the sky, spreading a patch of orange behind. The river sparkled in the golden rays as the dew began to evaporate; and the warm light bathed me in heat as the shadows lifted from the forest. The glorious, generous sun, I thought as I stopped for a while to eat a few biscuits. 

But as the sun rose further up the azure blue sky, that statement became horribly wrong. The sun’s heat was sweltering, and the surroundings became so bright that it was difficult to see. I sweated through my shirt in just a blink of an eye; even the grass below felt flaccid, as if surrendering to the torturous sun. 

Is it going to be like this for the rest of my journey?  I thought. By then the village was not even in sight, hence there was no option to return. Perhaps there would be another village further up. I hoped. 

My throat felt parched and I was certain I was dehydrated from all the walking I had done. Bending down, I peered into the water. 

Wait a minute, it was clear and calm in a 1 meter radius. 

The water was murky and green in the other parts, and it was flowing quickly. Yet mine was as clear as a mountain stream, pure and slow moving. I silently mused as I extended my hand into the water to take a glup. 

Upon plunging my hand in, I suddenly keeled over. Head first, I tumbled into the water in a somersault, legs following behind in an uncivilised way. 

Then I skidded down the muddy sides, my hands fervently grasping anything holdable to keep me from dropping further in, but it was to no avail. Hence, I was plunged into the deep river. 

The waters formed a spiral around me, sucking me into the depth of it. Despite the sun, the surprisingly freezing waters constricted my body, wetting me to the core and sucking the energy out of me. I flailed around in the water, but it was futile in stopping the massive whirlpool that was determined to drag me to the bottom. I screamed, but there was no one near enough to hear. The sun soon disappeared, and it was replaced by the greenish water that was no longer clear but instead grew into deeper and darker shades as the seconds passed. 

I thrashed about, whirling my arms and legs in a desperate effort to stay afloat but it was futile. My lungs screamed in agony, then I could not help but open my mouth and breathe water. Water entered my lungs and caused me to involuntary choke, forcing more water into my mouth, repeating the cycle. My brain seemed to be slowly overtaken by a black fog as I clawed at what functions and memories I was missing. With the lack of oxygen, my limbs also stopped moving. 

Came from the river, died in the river was my final thought as my consciousness finally slipped from me. 

Then I was probably sinking into the inky darkness, bound never to live again. 

=

I had felt some warmth on my skin hence I opened one eye to see. The sun was just past me now, shining on my face from the side of the village. I opened the other eye. It was indeed the sun. I then turned my head left. Seeing the river, I guessed that my body was spread on the ground just next to the river edge. Wait, but had I not drowned in the river just now?

Maybe this is the afterlife, I thought. However, my backpack was still there in its original position before I drank water. In addition, the forest and path were the same as before, so it was impossible for me to be in another place. Crawling onto my feet, I scanned the surroundings. Had I revived from a near-drowning accident?

The river was calm, its surface like a smooth mirror. Clear, as it reflected the image of the towering trees in the forest. A drastic change from its previous self. A blob of clear thing surfaced up near the bank where I was at, and I instinctively backed away towards my backpack, prepared to run away if it came closer. Once drowned by a river, always scared of a long water body was what I concluded. 

The thing fully surfaced out of the water, and it had the shape of a unicorn; a horse with a single horn. It was made of a transparent material, having a defined shape, yet it had not a single drop of river water sliding off its coat. A unicorn made of water? I realised.

By then, I was too afraid to run, and possibly too enthralled with a water horse that I was effectively rooted to a spot. When the creature finally moved towards me, I grabbed my bag and tried to run, but it was too late. 

“Come with me, I need to tell you something,” a low voice rang out. 

I turned behind. “No. I’m going now. How am I to trust that you are not going to drown me in the river?”

At that, the unicorn looked annoyed. He finally muttered, “The river tossed you out and the reason for that is what I’m going to tell you now.”

“Just what, something lame?” I outwardly retorted. But inwardly, I questioned, why?

It looked like it was about to get pissed off with me. But once again, he replied in a fairly calm tone, “I know you are looking for your origin. I can offer you that information, if you come with me.” It seemed to be smiling. 

I was unsure for a while, but somehow I could tell that it was telling the truth. With a heavy heart, I reluctantly put down my pack and trudged towards the unicorn. 

“You can survive underwater now, don’t worry.” It said as it motioned me to climb on its back. Then, it jumped into the water. 

When the water hit me, a feeling of panic rushed through my body. Recollections of my drowning experience filled my mind, and I nearly hyperventilated. Yet I realised I was breathing underwater, as bubbles floated out of my nose into the air. I opened my eyes and I could see many fishes too. 

However, before I could think of any theories explaining it, the unicorn had brought me into the inky depths where I could make out a cave-like structure.  

It stopped, and I got off. I looked around. “Where are we?” 

“Home,” it replied. 

It walked into the cave where I could see a small speck of light at the end. Light at the bottom of the river?

“What home? I’m a human, I don’t live in a river.”

“You are not just a human.” 

“Welcome home, guardian of the river.”