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Waterfalls and Paint

by BP | Score: 6050

The waterfall fell upside down. How the waterfall fell upside down was a mystery to Jenny but she appreciated that she was not upside down. That, at least, made sense to her.

Stepping forward in the  cave, letting her toes find confidence in the ground beneath them before settling the arc and later, heel of her foot onto the ground. 

Good, she thought. The floor is still the floor.  

Water splashed from the fall as gallon after gallon of water lunged upward, springing from the small pool below and launching itself back up the hillside until, presumably, it rejoined the river there and flowed backwards to...

She didn't know where a backwards river would flow from and the more she investigated the thought, the more she realized she didn't need to know.

Still, there was something alluring about the waterfall. The sight of it defying gravity, flying up in great, lucid sheets dizzied her. Reaching out, she let her fingers caress the water, cutting small ravines in the undisturbed flow. It felt like water. The realization startled her. Not gelatinous alien goo, or some slick mercury, but water. Cold, frigid even, water.

Mist dampened her face  before the thought occurred to her that she shouldn't breathe any in. Pulling away, drawing deeper into the cave, startled her. And soon she found herself floating back toward the water, toward the refreshing chill. It was water. Cold, clean water.

A giggle escaped her lips. She had plunged her fingers back into the fold and was watching as the liquid rushed around her. Momentary blockages that, in the grand journey of this river, meant nothing.

Beyond the falls was the small lake and beyond the lake, circling it, a great forest. Trees in full bloom, the green shone through the shimmering window, it's vibrancy unwashed.

Fairytales. The thought had nestled itself inside her the moment she approached the falls. Now, having grown less cautious, her curiosity taking over, she allowed the thought to settle in, ferment, and begin to grow.

Science could explain this, she was sure. Some obscure theory relating to alternate realities, quantum physics, and a dozen or so temporal studies she was sure existed, but had never heard of.

None of that mattered. She wasn't studying any of those theories and nothing in her immediate vicinity suggested she would be starting anytime soon. So why not indulge? Why not experiment in her own crude, amateurish way.

Taking another step forward, Jenny plunged her hand into the water, allowing it to crash her wrist. Unsatisfied and emboldened, she took another step. Water rushed against her elbow. Spray from the falls washed against her, soaking her shirt and face. Another step, this time not stopping until her fingers tickled air.

She was through. Water pushed on her chin, a short-tempered parent forcing her to look up at them, listen. Water fell against her face and she closed her eyes. The sensation of water rushing against her from the ground, raising her up. Her mind tried to find an explanation, a plausible analogy to compare. Sprinklers and hoses on hot summer days didn't come close. The force of the falls was stronger, more wild. Unyielding in its fury.

What if she jumped in? Took that last final step into the stream and let it launch her upwards into the sky. What fairytale would that be? What marriage of hydrodynamics and gravity would govern her fall? What did it matter?

Jenny lifted her foot, felt the rush of water beneath the soles of her shoes, a thousand tiny gremlins clawing for her toes. Another foot, another inch, and she'd be gone. Swallowed in the rush of water.

Something grabbed hold of her wrist, tightened. Jenny's eyes shot open. Then, in the time between seconds, she was pulled through.


Jackson brought the brush up then down, up then down. That his physical therapy resembled Daniel Laruso's training from the Karate Kid had not been lost on him. An unforeseen consequence of the "casual chat" he'd had with his suspiciously excited physiotherapist. The second the chair had spun around and Dr. Ronny plopped down into it with all the charisma and charm of a youth minister, he should have known.  Tell this man nothing.

But he had played nice, given into the chat and let slip that, "I dunno. Movies are kind of my thing. I guess."

If he was going to be doomed to an entire summer of tedious chores he wished he had done so with a little more gusto. "I like movies, dammit. Old, new, good, bad. I enjoy them all then look for more. What of it?"
At least then he might be able to relish reenacting  them.

Jackson walked back toward the paint bucket, dipped the brush back in, gently scrapping it against the lid as his father had taught him, then went back to his spot and resumed the up and down motions. 

When Dr. Ronny went to his father and explained his plan for rehabbing the boy's shoulder, Jackson wasn't sure if the look in his father's eye was glee at finally putting him to work, or horror at how he might deface his beloved garage. To the old man's credit, he gave in.

Completed challenges

The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:

Begin Start typing to begin
Words Reach 50 words
Event Your character is all alone
Location A waterfall
Words Reach 100 words
Character A picky physiotherapist
Words Reach 200 words
Words Reach 300 words
Words Reach 400 words
Words Reach 500 words
Words Reach 600 words
Prop Include a brush
Words Reach 700 words
Words Reach 800 words

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