Rockies

JAMIE NEESHAM

Year 10

The harsh heat of the golden sun glared down on the land, invading all with its sweltering rays of fire. The clear and deep blue sky outlined the few pale clouds floating about awkwardly through the air, moving aimlessly.

Easton’s light blonde hair blew with the strong easterly wind, revealing his fair but tan skin and bright blue eyes. He was dressed in his school uniform, a white polo plastered with multiple grass stains, contrasting with dark red shorts following the school’s colour scheme. ‘Westwood College’ was embroidered on the corner of his shirt, named after Westwood Forest, which was the rural community’s ‘playground’.

The school was a bustling and diverse mix of people, boys and girls melded from different shapes and shades hurled themselves past Easton. All shared the same goal of escaping this prison to seek freedom after the long day.

“Stop dawdling.” Max pleaded, “You didn’t forget about Rockies, did you?” “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Easton sighed hurrying along.

‘Rockies’ was a codename for their secret spot. A lake like no other, it was unimaginable until you saw it. They stumbled across it during the previous summer break when they found themselves temporarily lost in the woods.

Easton ran now, catching up to Max, and they paused briefly in front of the colossal wall of green marking the forest’s entrance. A small narrow dirt path was strewn with thick tree roots and bulky vegetation, built up of various vines and shrubbery, and it seemed ready to strangle any who dared enter. A small sign, made of rotted wood and faded letters, warned Leave no trace. Leave before dusk. Countless trails spiralled from the original path, winding in all different directions. A small green pole stood next to an opening to suggest a marked `safe’ path, but the boys winked at each other and scampered down a trail to the left with no pole. Branches, rocks and divots became more occurrent and this new path slowly narrowed. Despite this, Easton whizzed through the track robotically, like a master of his craft, without a drop of doubt.

After what felt like hours of sprinting through the cool dry air and endless obstacles, moving water could finally be heard trinkling along rocks. Easton and Max sighed with relief and satisfaction, then both gasped for air and wiped the sweat that dripped from their cheeks.

Max exhaled as he wheezed for oxygen. “Slow down next time,” he quavered, working his chest in and out. “I’m too tired.”

“Hurry up, let’s get in before the sun goes down. Remember the sign!” Easton insisted, eager to refresh himself of the coat of sweat formed on his back.

Turning the final bend, the track widened to reveal the lake. It appeared as if by magic, summoned into the centre of the forest by gods. It glimmered in the peachy afternoon sun, its light illuminating the endless rocks that surrounded the water’s edge. The surface was guarded from the winds by the great wall of oak and elm trees.

“We finally made it!” the boys cheered in perfect sync. “ROCKIES!”

Easton instinctively sat on his favourite boulder, inhaling the fresh hickory scent of the forest. Absorbing the lakes magnificence, he looked around hypnotized by its features. A small glimmer of focused light beamed into his eyes. The culprit was a small delicate stone, its radiance so large that it lit up along the edge of the shore. Upon further inspection, the rock was a sparkling sapphire blue and a perfect sphere. The stone seemed to have drained the blue of the surrounding lake water of its essence. Easton swiftly snuck it into the front pocket of his backpack and then hung it high off a tree branch.

“Stop daydreaming. Come and jump in!” Max beamed, clearly excited to embrace the lake’s beauty. He jumped in, disrupting the stillness of the lake. Small ripples formed around him, shattering the glassy layer that was protecting the depths. Easton hurriedly followed, diving down reaching for the bottom. They played around until the evening sun finally began to set, filling the sky with a hot-pink glow.

Hopping out of the warm lake first, Max was chilled to the bone by the icy air. Easton swam to the water’s edge, noticing in his peripheral vision bubbles rising from deep within the lake. He scrambled out as well, suffering the cold air which washed over him and feeling dazed by the bizarre change. After the foamy bubbles, the wind picked up causing the trees to let out a deathly shriek. The once crystal-clear water was overcome with a dirty silt, and moss suddenly sprouted from cracks within the rocks. Stormy clouds gathered in the sky above like an angry mob, ready to stir violence at a moment’s notice. Birds of all kinds fled the vicinity, screeching as if in terror.

Max’s face was overwhelmed by a slurry of emotions; shock, fear, anxiety and dread leaving him incapacitated. He screamed, “Easton, what’s happening?!”

“Shut up and run.” Easton replied as adrenaline flushed through his body. He grabbed his bag, and they sprinted back towards the trail. They reached it only to find thick shrub and logs now obstructing the already narrow path. Screams deep in the forest echoed through the lake. Easton scanned his brain – what could have possibly caused this?

Realisation hit. Harder than any sledgehammer.

The stone. The setting sun.

Leave no trace. Leave before Dusk.

Easton’s legs were trembling, he felt paralysed, held in a tight grasp by the menacing aura before him. He rummaged through his bag, ignoring Max’s shouts and the disasters around him. His mind was racing, heart pounding out of his chest as guilt enveloped him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the smooth surface of the stone, pulled it from the depths of his bag and hurled it far into the middle of the lake. For several drawn-out seconds of anticipation Easton and Max held their breaths.

Then Easton’s gaze was pulled to his favourite boulder. The slimy moss disintegrated, and the rumbling lake began to calm. Overhead the storm split, the sky cleared, and birds landed steadily on branches.

Easton and Max exhaled and grinned at each other. ‘Rockies’ was back.

An essay on