River Story Chapter One

“I feel like we have definitely passed this particular tree before,” Mia looked at said tree critically, trying to ignore the feeling of alarm that was growing in the pit of her stomach. “It really looks familiar…”

“Yeah, I really don’t want to agree with you but I’m afraid I have to…” Ava laughed nervously. “I…”

“So shall we admit defeat and accept the fact that we’re hopelessly lost in the middle of nowhere?” Mia gripped her oar and dug it desperately into the water, as if paddling the canoe faster would somehow help the situation. 

“No, I wouldn’t say lost quite yet,” Ava frowned. “You know… I feel like I’ve been here before and…” 

“Ooh!” Mia grinned eagerly. “Hope begins to shine at last! And what? Do you know where we are and how to get out of it?”

“I was just remembering…” Ava spoke slowly. “I do believe that… there are…”

“What? Whatwhatwhat?” Mia paddled harder. “Please do hurry up and tell because I simply can’t wait to get home to the couch and a good book…”

“I think there are rapids here somewhere…” Ava squeaked out the words, grimacing. 

“Oh. Yes. Of course there would be!” Mia brought the oar down hard with a groan of frustration, sending a splash of water into her face. “What do you propose we do? Jump overboard or stay put and let ourselves do battle with the rocks?”

“Okay, hard decision,” Ava was looking increasingly terrified. “Um… normally I would say stay with the ship, but seeing as there are large rocks involved…”

“Too late…” Mia grunted as the canoe bumped against one of those aforementioned rocks. “I think I see white water…”

Now, normally, this is the point in a story in which the author (that’s me) writes an extremely compelling drama sequence in which we see our two heroines battle for their lives amongst incredible odds. Just picture the spray of the white water off the rocks as the canoe bumps its fateful course through the treacherous rapids…

But the author (still me) must here apologize for she is not quite certain how to write a rapids scene. So this is where the author suggests that the reader (that’s you) employ your imagination here. Because you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t already have an imagination, correct? You would simply watch a movie instead, for that leaves nothing to the imagination. So let me set a timer for… oh… thirty seconds shall be sufficient… and you shall apply yourself to imagining as hard as you can…

Alright, that’s good, that’s enough, that’s plenty of drama, thank you very much. Let us reconnect with our sopping wet and completely terrified heroines on the other side of the rapids, sans their oars. Because this is necessary for the sake of the story.

“Terrible, terrible, that was so terrible that my mental thesaurus has completely failed me and the only word I can think of is terrible,” Mia clung to the edge of the canoe, her knuckles white, pressing her forehead against her hands. She was too afraid to look up. “Tell me that the rocks are gone.”

“I… I… th… think th… they are…” Ava stammered, her hands shaking so hard that she had given up trying to cling to the canoe and had more or less curled herself into a ball in the bottom of it. “Are… are we… a… alive?”

“Tell me why we get into these messes,” Mia gasped, raking soaked hair back from her eyes. “Why, Ava?” She was half-sobbing now. “And now we are more lost than ever, I am terrified of this river, and I… I want Jack…” she gulped back another sob and started laughing, more or less hysterically. 

oOo

“Aw, c’mon, where are you? How are we supposed to get finished in time for supper if I can’t even find you?” 

Jack clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Any sound was liable to give him away and that would be very counterproductive. He crouched under the table, carefully flipping open the lid of the mustard bottle as he heard Ryan’s footsteps grow closer. Just a little more and…

“Gotcha!” Jack jumped from behind the table, wielding the garbage can lid as a shield as he sprayed his friend with the mustard. “Haha, talk about finishing supper, you are the one who started this fight and it’s your fault we won’t have the food ready in time, but I am going to finish this fight…”

“We aren’t gonna have any food if you don’t… agh, stop it!” Ryan threw up his hands in surrender. “I give, I give!”

Jack tossed the mustard aside and threw himself at Ryan, knocking his opponent to the ground.

“Admit all of this is your fault.”

“Okay, okay, it is!”

“Say it. Repeat after me. I, Ryan the nut, started this food fight, and therefore it is my fault that supper is not ready on time.”

“Alright! I, Ryan the… what kind of nut are we talking? Cuz if you mean peanuts, I got some right…” he struggled for a moment, attempting to reach his pocket, but couldn’t quite get to it. Jack beat him to the peanuts.

“There. Fight’s over.” He dumped them on Ryan’s face. “Now if you promise to stop this insanity and help me get supper ready I will let you up. Otherwise…” he grinned. “I’m gonna duct tape you to a tree.”

“I promise, I promise…” Ryan groaned. “Just get offa me or you will greatly regret it.”

“Fine. Truce.” Jack laughed and pulled Ryan to his feet. “Now, let’s take note of the damages. What time is it?”

“Um… wow, it’s late…” Ryan glanced at the clock. “And we made a mess of this cabin, Dad’s gonna kill me…” he grimaced. 

“Wait a second…” Jack frowned. “Didn’t the girls say they would be back by three?”

“I think so?”

“And it’s… five?”

“Uh… that’s… not good…” Ryan glanced down at the mustard on his t-shirt. “Do you think…?”

“That they’re in trouble?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Go get a clean shirt, buster, we’re going after them.”