TruthorDare

Each and every one of our tired limbs
ploughed on, across this endless hill. In this landscape
we were ants, and redwood giants stood perfectly still,
petrified in their battle-ready postures. The shade there was
like nothing I had ever felt before, so cool it was like
the depths of the ocean breathing over my face. Our anxious
heartbeats characterized our current adventure. We had found
the gate, forlorn and forgotten, when we wondered off our
usual route. Grabbing a chunk of granite I smashed
the ancient lock into a thousand pieces of rust against
the rotting wood. The trail was so overgrown
with weeds it was almost hard
to follow. We didn't expect anything, really,
just another unexplored venture into
this dark and inviting forest. Passing the trunk
of a large redwood I leaned my hands against the bark,
felt it's life beneath my fingers. In the golden afternoon
sun we didn't know where we were going, or where we would end
up. The hours passed like minutes. In summer, this was the only
thing one could ask for. Twilight turned its reign into
the foliage, painting everything in watercolor purples.
I remember the feeling of something strong against my foot
the first time I tripped. My curious hands reached down into the
soft earth, looking for the root. But I found
no root. My hand graced this object, cold and hard and white,
so unknown to my imagination. My rough and worn fingers
brushed the dirt away. I leapt back,
falling against tall ferns. When they all realized that I had
suddenly stopped talking, that they could hear my
rasped breathing, everyone was silent. The five pairs
of eyes came to rest against what my hand
had graced a moment ago. No one said anything.
Looking up to the branches I saw the frayed rope swinging in
the breeze, tired, relieved of its load. I struggled to understand
how someone could bring themselves to do
what I thought they had done. I didn't want to think about it
or even give the ground a second glance. It's just a white rock, I said,
let's leave. Floating back and forth
in the breeze, the rope mocked me, as if it knew
of my lie. Turning back down the trail we ran until
our lungs burned and our legs ached, and our throats
screamed for water. The gate was open,
swinging, creaking, speaking its secret to us,
telling us of everything that we had never wanted
to know.