March 1, 1998 (Note: Submitted this as a requirement for my Lit course. I say, pathetic! :O)
The sun was directly above the forest. It was noon time. The river sparkled on the right side of the trail under the sun’s rays. There was a little breeze enough to blow the dried leaves off the branches to fall down the trail. There were sounds of different animals which can be heard endlessly. John and his fther were resting at the bottom of a low slope under the shade of a tree. The slope was rocky.
“Let’s go. We still have halfway to go until the sun sets,” John’s father said, and began to gather their equipment to be put inside their backpacks. “Check your things, John. You have the hand book?”
“Check.”
“Compass?”
“It’s here.”
“Water?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And I have my handbook, my compass, and my water. Then let’s continue the hike. Now, it’s very rocky on this slope so we also have to use our hands to hold on to the rocks to push us up.”
Both of them were wearing boots of sturd-and-rubber construction which can stand rough terrains. But as John started his climb of th erocky slope, he started losing his balance.
“John, are you all right?”
“I am having a hard time on these rocks.”
“Did you bring anything besides the things which I told you to bring that can make your backpack heavy?”
“I kind of picked up some strange-looking rocks along the first half of the trail, which I thought I could give to my friends as a souvenir.”
“I think we have to do away without those rocks if you want to gain your balance back,” he said as he worked his way up the slope.
“But those rocks are rare, dad, and it will be a good show to my friends.”
“Leave those rocks behind because heavy things make our hike harder. It even says so in the hand book.”
“All right, but can I keep one—just one?”
“Not a single one, John.”
“All right, all right.” John removed the rocks from his backpack, and continued to climb up the slope with greater ease. At the top of the slope, the land was levelled. The forest was more dense though, and shadows are beginning to form on the ground. On one of the branches, there was a bird with read, black, white and yellow. “Look up there. There’s a rare bird perched on one of the branches. I want to take a picture of it.”
“I see the bird, but it must not stop us from moving on by looking at it.”
The bird glided down with no effort at all to a lower branch, which is an arm’s reach high from John He took his camera and pointed it to the bird. Before John was able to take a shot, the bird flew away to a farther branch into the deep woods. John followed where it flew leaving his father along the trails. John found himself in the company of unknown sights and sounds. He realized that he was lost. He did not know what to do.
“John!” his father shouted.
John heard the familiar voice of his father and quickly traced where it was coming from. “I am here, dad!” he answered back.
“Where did you go? I was worried sick for you.”
“I’m sorry, dad.”
“The next you get lost, always remember to follow where the water leads. Listen to its flow carefully.”
John understood what his father said and never removed his eyes from his father anymore. John’s father used his compass and the hand book to find their way back to the trail. The trail was full of dried leaves which fell from the trees. They were golden brown making the trail as if it is made of gold. As they hiked the trail, they reached a part where the road divides.
“It says in the hand book that we should always take the right road,” John said, putting the book in his backpack.
“Then let’s take the right road.”
Just as they trailed the right road, an eagle soared across the sky towards the sun. It was already late afternoon. The sun was preparing to set.
“Dad, I’m tired.”
“Drink some water. It will help you reagain some of your strength.”
John cannot speak any longer because his throat is beginning to dry. So he got his jug and drank a gulp of water, and put the lid back tight so the water would not spill. His eyes were once again alert, and his back straight again.
“Come on. We cannot waste time anymore. The sun is almost setting,” John’s father said. His walk is faster.
“Are we near the place that you talked about, dad?”
“Yes, son. We must not miss the sun now.”
“How does the place look like?”
“You will see, son. You will see.”
Then there was silence. The only sound that can be heard was the sound of their feet brushing against the trail that looked golden because of the dried leaves. John’s father came to a halt, and so did John upon reaching the end of the trail. below was a meadow. One one part, it was covered by a variety of flowers. There was also a lake on another part, and a tree at the center. The eagle was perched on that tree.
John’s father stood with his eyes fixed on the setting sun which spread its glow across the meadow and into the woods. The sun was golden orange. This made the meadow and everything else look as if they are made of gold. John’s eyes were also fixed on the sun.
