The cool water sifted through Winnie Foster's fingers as smoothly as silk,
as she glanced at her reflection in the rippling spring. Bringing a
dripping finger to her lips, she paused. Her heart warmed as she had
remembered how Jesse had kissed those lips, gently combing his long fingers
through her hair, holding her close, and protecting her from the world.
Jesse Tuck wasn't like any other boy she knew. He was adventurous, and
handsome, and had a thirst for life. He wouldn't leave any stone unturned,
and would always be able to produce a chuckle from someone, with his giddy
laugh and unpredictable humour.
Letting her hand drop back into the water, she continued to run her delicate fingers through the silky smooth water, making her reflection wrinkle and contort. Winnie sighed. She knew that she didn't want to die, struggling with her life on her deathbed. She wanted to be as free as a bird, running through the grass and smelling the wildflowers. Free to live life as it was meant to be. Her fingers closed over a smooth stone, and she fingered it, thoughts running through her head like a torrent of water. She remembered Angus Tuck, as he nimbly rowed the glossy canoe into the water, pouring out everything to her, pleading with her.
"We're just like rocks. Just lying there. Just existing," Winnie whispered, her breath forming small swells in the clear water. Positioning her closed fist over the water, she let the stone plop into its shallow depths. Ripples fluttered on the water, forming rings on the silvery pool.
Winnie slowly stood, smoothing out the creases on her lacy white dress. Her fingers gently brushed over the tree's jagged bark, and she smelled the fresh evening air. Slowly circling around the tree's thick trunk, Winnie tilted her head to gaze at the old tree's intricate network of branches, weighed down by fully bloomed white and pink flowers, with the shafts of golden sunlight fighting to filter through the thick, blossom - laden boughs. Her slender fingers scratched against an odd grove in the tree's bark. Winnie lightly fingered the crude 'T' carved onto the moss- covered bark. "Tuck," she murmured, slumping down on the dirt next to the bubbling spring.
"Jesse Tuck..." Winnie remembered how Jesse had prompted her to dive into the icy cold water with him, and how he had carried her so that she wouldn't drown. She remembered squatting down next to him, petting the velvety fur of a tiny fawn, and feeding it little bits of bread. She remembered dancing with him by the blazing fire, telling him all her dreams and hopes for the future. Kissing him.
Winnie softly sighed, and her eyes fell on a bright green shoot sprouting through the soil. It was odd for plants to be growing during late summer, and so Winnie thought it as unusual. Gently touching the smooth bud that had crowned the green sprout, Winnie cupped some of the water into her palm, and was about to feed it to the young shoot, but a gust of wind, tore the tiny sprout right out of the fertile ground. The shoot spiralled around in the wind, almost dancing, and then another gust ripped by, sending it whirling out of sight. Winnie gently mended the pinprick hole that was formed, and let the cold water dribble down her fingers and into the ground. The shoot would grow again. But Winnie was not sure if she could. Suddenly, she had come to a decision. She would drink the water. For Jesse. For Angus. For her. She might just be a rock beside a stream, but that rock would be nurtured and loved. And with that, Winnie dipped her hand into the water, and slowly tipped her head back, emptying the cool water down her throat. It glided past her lips like a cloud; cool and refreshing, and tasted like heaven on earth. And with that, she got up and left, whistling a familiar melody; one from long ago.
Letting her hand drop back into the water, she continued to run her delicate fingers through the silky smooth water, making her reflection wrinkle and contort. Winnie sighed. She knew that she didn't want to die, struggling with her life on her deathbed. She wanted to be as free as a bird, running through the grass and smelling the wildflowers. Free to live life as it was meant to be. Her fingers closed over a smooth stone, and she fingered it, thoughts running through her head like a torrent of water. She remembered Angus Tuck, as he nimbly rowed the glossy canoe into the water, pouring out everything to her, pleading with her.
"We're just like rocks. Just lying there. Just existing," Winnie whispered, her breath forming small swells in the clear water. Positioning her closed fist over the water, she let the stone plop into its shallow depths. Ripples fluttered on the water, forming rings on the silvery pool.
Winnie slowly stood, smoothing out the creases on her lacy white dress. Her fingers gently brushed over the tree's jagged bark, and she smelled the fresh evening air. Slowly circling around the tree's thick trunk, Winnie tilted her head to gaze at the old tree's intricate network of branches, weighed down by fully bloomed white and pink flowers, with the shafts of golden sunlight fighting to filter through the thick, blossom - laden boughs. Her slender fingers scratched against an odd grove in the tree's bark. Winnie lightly fingered the crude 'T' carved onto the moss- covered bark. "Tuck," she murmured, slumping down on the dirt next to the bubbling spring.
"Jesse Tuck..." Winnie remembered how Jesse had prompted her to dive into the icy cold water with him, and how he had carried her so that she wouldn't drown. She remembered squatting down next to him, petting the velvety fur of a tiny fawn, and feeding it little bits of bread. She remembered dancing with him by the blazing fire, telling him all her dreams and hopes for the future. Kissing him.
Winnie softly sighed, and her eyes fell on a bright green shoot sprouting through the soil. It was odd for plants to be growing during late summer, and so Winnie thought it as unusual. Gently touching the smooth bud that had crowned the green sprout, Winnie cupped some of the water into her palm, and was about to feed it to the young shoot, but a gust of wind, tore the tiny sprout right out of the fertile ground. The shoot spiralled around in the wind, almost dancing, and then another gust ripped by, sending it whirling out of sight. Winnie gently mended the pinprick hole that was formed, and let the cold water dribble down her fingers and into the ground. The shoot would grow again. But Winnie was not sure if she could. Suddenly, she had come to a decision. She would drink the water. For Jesse. For Angus. For her. She might just be a rock beside a stream, but that rock would be nurtured and loved. And with that, Winnie dipped her hand into the water, and slowly tipped her head back, emptying the cool water down her throat. It glided past her lips like a cloud; cool and refreshing, and tasted like heaven on earth. And with that, she got up and left, whistling a familiar melody; one from long ago.