Possible Prologue For a Book

The rapids rushed in from all sides, whipping my head around in un-natural directions. Everything was black, pitch-black-dark. My legs had become noodles bouncing around in over boiling water. The air inside my lungs wasn't enough to feed my exasperated heart. Spasms tightened my exhausted muscles in my arm as they hopelessly fought to keep hold of the rotten branch, the only thing preventing me from completely going under. It was my only hope, I mustn't let it go. I gnawed my teeth together and kicked against the timultuous pounding of the unforgiving water. Using every last ounce of the power in my shoulders I broke the water's surface. Daylight blinded my  water-logged eyes, oxygen bursted throughout my being. A dream much too great to behold more than a split second in which I was back beneath fighting for myself.

I strained, I begged, I yanked at my muscles. I pleaded for them to please, please pull me through. They were failing me. They wouldn't listen. How could they do this to me?

The water smothered my face, erasing my tears. My journey had bever been easy. Wasn't there a better way? I opened my mouth to scream for help. A mouth-full of viral water was the only thing I got. Another spasm striked and dominated my quivering shoulders. An especially rough swell shoved my pitiful frame, pushing me against something sharp. Needle-like pain throbbed in my stomach, knocking the only bit of airi left in my lungs out and into the rushing current. My throat sucked helplessly for the relief of air but nothing came. I felt my muscles weeze and begin to shut down. This was it, what else could there be? My time had come.

My world went black while my eyes remained open. My gripping hands released their hold. My aching body was swept away, going with the jagged rises and falls in the natural curvature in the current's swells.

But then, abruptly, my body was yanked from the rushing river. The jolt of solid, rocky, ground surged mucky water out of my lungs and through my mouth. It trickled down the my pale cheeks. My extremeties refused to move, but my eyelids parted slightly. Though water-logged and hazy from the filth that had collected in them, they shot an image of heavily mudded, brown working boots to my delusional conscience.

The image was breif. Darkness caved in once again as everything went black.

The World Awaits

The World Awaits

Created in the image

of perfection-

whittled from the

finest wood

Chizzled from the most

precious stone-

brushed on the

smoothest canvas

Cupped in the arena of

flawless fingers-

moisted lips pulled together

and part

A warm breath softly

washes over-

faintly a heart beats

beginning steadily

Calling in the distance the

world awaits-

bracing itself for utter

resounding beauty