The River- by M. Mollison- Year 8

The river was never somewhere I meant to go. It was just where I ended up when everything felt too loud, as if the world had turned its volume up too high and I couldn’t find a way to turn it down. The air was thick and warm as I pushed through the trees, branches brushing my arms like fingers trying to pull me back. With every step, the world grew quieter, until even the birds sounded hushed, like they were whispering words they didn’t want me to hear.

When I reached the river, I stopped. It was still. Too still. The water didn’t rush or tumble as rivers should. It just sat there. Smooth and perfect, reflecting the sky as if it were another world beneath the surface. I crouched near the edge, picking at the grass without thinking, as if they needed something to hold onto. That’s when I noticed him. A boy was sitting on the other side of the bank. I froze. He didn’t look surprised to see me. It was almost as if he had been expecting me, like I was part of something already in motion.

“You came back,” he said. My breath caught slightly in my throat. I hesitate, not knowing whether to tell the truth or not.

“I… don’t think I’ve been here before,” I replied.

He tilted his head, slow and thoughtful, and smiled. “Yes, you have,” he said simply. The way he said it sent a strange chill through me, like the air had shifted slightly. “I’m Rowan,” he added after a moment.

“Frankie,” I said quietly. He smiled faintly, like he already knew. The wind moved gently through the trees above us, making the branches sway, as if they were all talking to each other. The river rippled once, softly, like it was waking up. Rowan tapped his pencil against a notebook resting on his knees. “You draw?” I asked, before I could stop myself. He nodded. “What do you draw?”

“Things that haven’t happened yet,” he said. I let out a small breath of disbelief.

“That’s impossible.” He didn’t argue. He just looked at me, calm and certain. He then turned the notebook around. Inside were sketches – the river, the trees, and me. Sitting exactly where I was now, like I had already been captured by a moment I hadn’t fully lived yet. My stomach tightened. “That’s not real,” I said quickly. Rowan’s voice stayed steady. “Not yet.” Silence stretched between us like a thin thread, delicate, but unbroken. I turned back to the river, expecting just my reflection. But the water didn’t look normal anymore.

For a moment, it didn’t just show me… itshowed through me. Flickers of things appeared like ripples in time – Me standing alone in crowds like a shadow no one noticed, me starting to speak, but stopping halfway, me walking away before anyone had a chance to look at me twice. I pulled back slightly, my heartbeat louder now, like it was echoing in my ears.

“What is this?” Rowan looked at the water. “It shows what you don’t say out loud.”

I swallowed.

“I don’t know how to… be around people properly,” I admitted, the words slipping out like they had been waiting too long inside me.

“It feels like I’m always doing it wrong.” The river rippled gently, as if it understood. Rowan nodded once, as if he had always known. Something in my chest loosened. Not completely, but enough for me to notice it was there. For once, I didn’t look away.

The wind picked up, brushing through the trees like a slow breath. The light softened across the water, turning it silver and still. I turned back to Rowan, ready to ask him something. Anything that would make sense of all this, but the space beside the riverbank was empty. No footsteps. No sound. Just absence, like he had been erased entirely.

Only his notebook remained. I slowly picked it up, my hands slightly trembling. Inside, on the last page, was a drawing of me at the river. I was sitting alone, looking up at something like I’d finally stopped shrinking myself away from the world, like something inside me had quietly opened after being shut for too long. I closed the notebook gently. The pages felt light in my hands, like they were holding less weight than before, as if the river had somehow taken some of it away.

The water in front of me stayed still, smooth as glass, reflecting the sky like a mirror that didn’t lie. For the first time, I didn’t feel invisible. It was like I had been standing behind fog my whole life, and now it was slowly lifting, just enough for me to see the world, and for it to see me back.