The Way The River Flows

Roxy, Willow and Sam were siblings; Roxy was 13, Willow was 10 and Sam was only 7. They lived with their collie (Amos) and their parents in a cottage. One fine October’s day they were walking home from school ready for the weekend when Roxy noticed something strange: the river that ran through the forest was dead still. Roxy stopped to look at it. when the others asked why she had stopped, she said she would meet them at home. Roxy had always thought there was something strange about the river. It normally felt as though she was being drawn near it by some kind of magnetic force but today it wasn’t there, it had lost its sparkling deep-sea blue and was now a murky kind of brown. Roxy was lost in thought until she realised the others would be wondering where she had gone, so she reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the crestfallen river and sprinted back. When she got home, Willow and Sam were tucking into their snacks. Roxy sat down at the table and told them exactly what she saw. “The river might be sick!” gasped Sam worriedly. “Of course it isn’t, Sam, Roxy’s just imagining things again!” snapped Willow. “I know what I saw,” said Roxy gravely. Willow demanded that Roxy show them what she meant. So out they went again, this time with Amos closely following. Willow (who was dreadfully stubborn) gaped at it. After she pulled herself together Willow said “I bet it hasn’t actually stopped, it’s probably just our imagination,” and she threw a leaf in the water to prove her point but it didn’t move, nor did it stay still, instead it evaporated instantly into bits of ash. After that, Willow decided to stay quiet. Amos sensed their confusion, whined and pawed at Sam who was staring blankly into the river.

Late that night, Roxy couldn’t get to sleep. A million thoughts pirouetted around her head. In the distance, the village clock chimed 12 times: midnight, she could take it no longer, without thinking she jumped on to her feet, got dressed into warm clothes, pulled on her coat and reached for the front door handle. Roxy was just about to turn it when she heard Willow’s voice say “You’re not going anywhere without us!” She turned to see Willow and Sam fully dressed. “We want to find out about the river too,” Willow said firmly. Roxy nodded, there was no point in arguing. “Shouldn’t we pack first?” asked Sam. Roxy nodded again and tiptoed upstairs, grabbed a large bag, put in some money, 3 sleeping bags and spare clothes and blankets for all of them. She headed downstairs and hoisted the heavy rucksack on to her shoulders. They crept out into the dead of night.

It was dark and eerie outside, thunder cracked and rain spat down upon us. We trudged on over to the hushed river which was still and as uncertain as night itself. Sam shivered and said “I want to go home,” Willow gave him a bored look. No one said anything and there, in a silent agreement they carried on. A few hours later at one o’clock in the morning, they decided to set up camp. They pulled out three sleeping bags and huddled under a willow tree which Willow said they should go under, after all it was her tree. Dawn broke and Roxy woke up and looked around. A glorious orange sunrise rose casting a pink spell of light over them. The others were still asleep; not wanting to wake them she knelt down by the sickly river and dipped her hand in. Even like this, there was still something strangely magical about it. Then she noticed something, a bottle with a crumpled tea-stained piece of paper inside. She picked it up, her blood pumping with excitement: a clue! Or just an old bottle but nevertheless, she had found something. Willow and Sam were awake now and they hurried over to see what she had found. Inside the note said, as they pulled out the ink mottled cork:

Litter lines me from those who throw,
Scaring me, killing me,
I am polluted, my waters murky unless,
There's a change for the best.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” moaned Willow who hated anything which she didn’t understand. “It means, we need to rid it of litter,” Sam nodded excitedly. They agreed to go home and to gather a party to clear up litter.
The whole community did their best and before long the river was restored. But some times at night, Roxy could hear the river running and it almost sounded like the river was whispering to her saying “thank you”.