River Ghosts
Juancho was one of those overconfident country boys whose physique fertilized his daredevil tendencies. When he guided his city friends along the river he accompanied his description of the place with anecdotes of his feats. He jumped from stone to stone with the agility of a frog; he seemed to be immune to mosquito bites, thorns, or tiredness.
He was not trying to impress anyone in particular; that was just his usual self. Indirectly, it served two purposes, nonetheless. On the one hand it solidified his Alfa image among the males and inevitably increased his options to “crown” a female.
Even though the day looked sunny and the river looked clear and peaceful, it had been raining up the hills. The town folks had warned Juancho about taking people across the river on days like this, but, as always, he ignored their words of wisdom. One of the girls saw a couple of ripe pineapple mangoes on top of a tree across the river. She had never tried one of those. “If you want ‘em, you got ‘em,” Juancho said confidently.
“You don’t have to do that,” one of the city boys said.
“Easy-peasy,” Juancho insisted. “I’ll be back in a second,” he said and jumped into the river, which at that point reached up his waist. He crossed and started climbing the tree as if he was climbing a ladder. He grabbed the fruits and climbed down using only one hand. When he was about to cross back, he noticed that the water was turning brown. He looked up the river and saw the cabeza’: sticks, rocks, mud, and vegetation dragged by the fury of a flooded river.
He threw the mangoes to the other side and asked the group to run back to town. The massive body of water forced itself down the riverbed and flooded to the sides. Juancho jumped in and tried to swim his way across, but the current was too strong, even for a daredevil like him. The city folks cried their favorite curse word or deity and, with the resignation of the kid whose kite is dragged away by a gust of wind, they ran for their lives and lost sight of their guide.
Juancho had swam flooded rivers before, but had never faced the first wave head-on. He used all his strength and wildlife smarts to remain afloat and desperately tried to grab a log or rock big enough to safe him. He couldn’t. He was dragged violently and smashed against every rock on his way down to who-knows-where. He swallowed muddy water and felt his shoes being yanked out of his feet. He tried to stay as close to the shore as possible but, for the first time in his reckless life, he knew what it felt not to be in control.
At a bend of the river, he saw for a fraction of a second a child who was trying to reach him with a long branch. He fought for his life in what some might call auto-pilot, took a deep breath and got momentum with some big rocks on the bottom to push his body towards to shore. He grabbed the branch and felt his soul back in his aching body. He pulled himself out of the savage waters and stayed for a while face down looking at some small wrinkled bare feet whose toes kept wiggling impatiently.
“You saved my life kid,” Juancho said exhausted. “I have to repay you somehow.”
The kid just turned around and walked. He followed him through the forest until he found himself in familiar territory, just close to town. “Let me invite you a snack or something. A candy? A pop?”
The kid stopped. Juancho was trying to get closer, have a better look, see if he knew his parents, when he heard the voices of the group of city folks. “Holy shit! You are the man!” one of the guys said. “We thought you had drown,” the mango girl said embracing him in a rather surprising but honest hug.
“I’m fine. This chamo saved me,” Juancho said turning around and pointing at an empty space where the mysterious boy had been just some seconds ago.
“Where the fuck did he go?”
Some of the old folks, who had heard the dramatic news from the city kids approached the group to confirm that Juancho had certainly added one more feat to his long list of impossible escapes.
“Do you need to go to a hospital? You are bleeding” an old woman said.
“I’ll be fine,” he said still looking around. The river was slowly shrinking back to its regular size. The debris settled along the shore, and the new puddles reflected peacefully the images of drenched birds and branches. Scattered drops interrupted the peace with ripples that echoed in Juancho’s lost eyes, restlessly looking for answers, like the wiggling toes of an encantado.
Thanks for your reading
This was my entry to @mariannewest and @latino.romano’s 5 Minute Freewrite: Thursday Prompt: I’LL BE FINE. You can see the details here.
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