Creative Writing

By Colby Allen | Posted: Thursday June 15, 2017

The night was dark, grey and cloudy as the walk drew to a close. All torches were off. Blackness surrounded us. The crunching, crushing and skidding of the stones as we rambled across the wet and muddy pathway was the only sound we could hear.

The bush was silent. Not a rustle or whisper from the trees, not a whimper or a cry from the birds. Silence. As we reached the waterfall I sat upon a ledge of cold and wet rock. Water absorbed into my pants, like sponge soaking up a spillage. The chill spread like a virus. My knees began to shake, my arms succumbed to goose bumps.

The mysterious outline of the trees was above me. A jet black mystery of winding shapes and edges formed arms for the fingers of spiky dark leaves. These figures stuck out against the grey, musky, cloudy sky like they were despicable beings. Surrounding me were the silhouettes of my classmates. A deep black outline of all the curves and edges of people. They were cardboard cut-outs that were placed in front of me, painted all black.

The waterfall made a powerful roar like a hungry lion. The deep gushing, as the water fell upon the rocks, was thunderous. The noise was controlling the world; it was the Mount Everest of waterfall. The greatness of the beast made me feel small and frightened. It felt as though the world was rushing, in a panicked and disrupting manner. Rain droplets were falling from the trees above, pattering upon me like the footsteps of a cat. A soft, steady drum beat echoed around my ears as the water fell. The droplets streamed down my face, creating a river to my lips. I smelt a strong, tangy, overpowering and earthy smell of mud as our footsteps released the scent.

When daylight set upon the waterfall, it all changed. A sea of green shielded the fall in a South American parade of colour. A thousand shades of green shone with the brightness of a star. White and brown bark covered mossy tree branches that twisted in all directions. The curves of nature were on display. Lime green moss screened the foliage which was densely consuming the habitat. One tree however, stood out from all. It had a smooth brown trunk with an array of differing green leaves. This tree rose above them all. The protector and guardian of the waterfall.

The waterfall was wondrous. Crisp and stark white water tumbled down a tall vertical drop. It plunged down a cascade of shiny, smooth and slick black rocks. Collating at the bottom was a pool of light beer brown water, filled with dying leaves and sediment, flossy, foamy and ferocious. A light grey sky with a baby blue window of light glinted hopefully through the trees.

My ears were filled with a gurgle of swirling water. The cataract’s roar was soft, like a baby lion calling out to its parents for protection. Hitting me were gentle splatters of falling summer rain. The sounds were soft and tranquil. Calmness and serenity spread over me. I was at peace with the world. The lemony smell of the cool, crisp air felt untouched and untroubled. With my feet in a brown puddle, I sat on a stiff cold rock. My feet got drenched and my socks were sodden like a swamp. Sprays of water hit me like flying spit, and the chattering of people was calm and relaxed. McLean Falls was an idyllic place and will remain so forever.