Inside The Jungle, Grief………………………….…….………………………………….……………………….Jack Abbrecht, V

Inside The Jungle, Grief

Jack Abbrecht '23

The first time I heard that chiming Macaw's song, I stood just outside the entrance to a theatre of winding timber, shaded by never-ending canopies of vibrant green foliage. I remember the mouth of the damned stream that flowed towards me, muffling the avian tune; its superficial state of serenity, its tranquil trickery, its plotted placidity. In my warranted ignorance, I failed to recognize an unstoppable force brewing beneath the sedated surface. And so, machete in hand, I broke the first layer of frond and flora. Five feet, ten feet, and deeper, I marched. I halted for a second just to see my trail. A golden sun fell from its celestial nest, breaking beyond the horizon. Blinding beams of fragmented light fought for a path, squeezing through the ever-so-small holes between bushes. As my monstrous blade continued its slashing course, I moved parallel to the stream, hoping the clear and calm flow would aid my direction on this trek. With every step, I planted my boots deep into the marshy floor, evading rocks, stones, and the occasional slithering serpent. Suddenly, my Machette failed, dulled by the hard bark which had been biting bitterly into its once cutting edge. Grasping onto the long handmade handle, I put the sword to work for one last swing, anxiously hoping that it would slice cleanly through the dense foliage; instead, however, it continued to resist. "Can't go any further," I thought to myself as that rich luminescence tucked behind its worldly crest, unsheathing a cloud of darkness over the jungle.

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When I turned around to head back, however, it was only logical to deny what appeared before me. The jungle, as if alive, extended its natural limbs, replenishing what I had cut and rendering my path useless. I couldn't believe it. Trapped. A panorama of once verdant frondescence, now made more ominous by a cloak of blackness, blurred my vision. Small beads of sweat began to form; with every thud

of my rapid heart, skull pounding from its hammering beat, they crawled down my skin. My breathing became erratic, uncontrollable, dominated by disbelief. "The stream," I remembered excitedly, "I just need to follow it back!" And so, I ducked through the organic extremities, following the sound of that now augmented murmur. I marched frantically, and marched, and marched - to no avail. "It wasn't this long before," I thought; no, I knew.

My panic and confusion unfolded into a scorching rage. My heart continued to pulsate; now, however, my blood turned hot, burning me from the inside. I began to run faster and faster. I grasped aggressively, making any attempt to pull myself away from the hellish situation; instead, cutting thorns broke out from their nemoral sheaths, sticking into my hands and covering their surface with a deep crimson hue. Under the sound of my abnormal and off pace breath, I heard a bubbling rumble, the sound of roaring water. As I ran, my legs began to burn, covered in the sweltering liquid of a now boiling stream. My vision was cloaked by an impossible fury, a vibrating anger, as I ran carelessly and directionlessly. Suddenly, some object obscured by the dark caught my foot, and I catapulted facefirst into a heaping pile of stones, mud, rotting fruit, and fallen leaves.

My flowing sanguinity began to infuse with the earthly presence, a bargain with that obscure undergrowth. Thick blood oozed into the ground, intermingled with the roots of trees and bushes, found its way into the diets of the snakes and mice and frogs and fish, and even into that cool stream where I placed my hands. As it seeped into the now less energetic flow, a cloudy mixture formed; the entire body of water gushed together with my life force. It was then when I remembered back to the moments just before stepping into that leafy gateway. "If only I had not entered this emerald hell, just turned my back and walked away. If only I had cut that brush more carefully, I would not have lost my path," I thought to myself. "How could it all go wrong? How could I have done this to myself?" I continued to reconsider my idiocracy, my absolute ignorance of a clear solution.

But quickly, the ponderance of my stupidity solidified into salty tears, an objectification of my overwhelming depression, as clear as the stream that I first witnessed. They flowed down my muddy cheeks, washing away a shroud of earthy material. Every drop electrocuted polluted skin, burning a sorrow-filled path off my chin and onto the ground below. The stream moved quicker now, but its once pulsating current lay completely flat. A chilling wind filled the somber air, brushing the water with a pallet of deep, melancholy blues. My weak hands tried to grip the tide, but it slipped through my fingers coldly and flowed out of sight. Aching muscles purged my thoughts and a migraine burned through my skull, like countless papercuts dicing my eyes and brain. Gagged by misery, I tried to withstand the immense pressure on my chest that moved my body down towards the stream.

Finally, at that moment, I accepted my fate—a pointless fight. Hopelessly, I let my emotions take control, and in an instant, my limp body drooped into the stream. As the water soaked my clothes, I was dragged away by a soft current.

Heavy blinking and cold water blurred my eyesight, but I soon began to see an incredible glow from behind. The sun's astonishing glimmer was blossoming over the horizon. Through clouded vision, I admired its warmth, its clarity, its enormous size. At that moment, I felt my body stop, grinding against small pebbles and dry dirt. I looked around and saw no foliage, no brush, no trees, no thorns. I rubbed my eyes and pulled my back up a little. There I sat, just outside the jungle's border, cherishing my freedom. For now, I could wander on the outskirts, day by day. Still, however, that Macaw, chirping its repetitive and somewhat sinister toon just inside the archway of leaves, reminded me that I could not, and would not, be out for good.

“The reality is that you will grieve forever.” -Elisabeth Kubler Ross