River

The jungle had grown to maze-like proportions and the many traps lain by mother nature herself only pushed the endeavors to run out the settlers to standstill after standstill. Although one young boy, we shall simply refer to as River, learned to use the elements to his advantage.

Setting up a ritual of contrition, the entire tribe mourned the passing of several of their best to the dark snares of the jungle; or at least what had seemed to be the entire tribe. To throw off the settlers, River and gang snuck beneath pits in reptile-skinned garb to an outer region of the swamp owned by no man. Setting a gathering fire that lead to the settlers’ campsite, and making sure to dispose of any witnesses within the blaze, half the campsite had become smoldering ash before it could be taken within some form of control.

The settlers’ leader, previously not heeding the tribe’s warning of an angered fire god, finally began to put more stock into their beliefs and moved the camp further back to base. A minor victory, but a victory indeed.

A year or so passed before the tribe was finally wiped out. The few survivors fled and joined the higher throngs of society, telling the story of River and the great fire for generations.

River’s, however, was a completely different and untold story. Captured and enslaved at a standard military prison, he was tortured barely within reason and was then eventually shipped out to Talite. There, with a little help from fellow assimilators, he found himself working out a tiny living in the slums of Neu Haven. Years later, he was caught in the crossfire of two rival gangs and was announced DOA once brought to the local hospital, hours upon hours later.

His last words as recounted by the ambulance technician were, “The fire will never stop spreading…”

How can you learn a whole new language?
When there’s people out here starving and dying
When you walk these slums there’s nothing but murder
The death of those that will crawl under
Can we ever crawl out?

It takes baby steps to get to water
Learn to fish and build a fire
And it takes bigger steps
To know when to quit
But here we lay our tools
Please use them the way you see fit

And when that bridge is no longer burning
The boat no longer turning over
Build a spit upon the lake
To know all things must float away
And not everything is meant to last
And sometimes life and love
Can simply be stubborn

(My last one was so bad and stupid and... everything. It just made me realize how bad my writing had become. So I'm getting back to my roots and trying to tell stories again. This one is... eh..... but it's a start. We'll see.)