The mountain reached up to a blackening sky. Dusk was falling and shadows were cast on craggy outcrops. Hidden in one of the rocky crevices was an empty nest …
A young brave moved stealthily through the thick lush undergrowth. His day had been filled with games of make believe and cheerful carefree adventures. It was as he neared the boundary of the reservation and the river beyond, that he sensed an eerie stillness, one that hung as a shroud over the misty land of desert and grassy plain. The low September sun had disappeared between the mountains. In the distance he could hear the last mournful call of a lone wolf before it disappeared back into its cave.
The young brave walked barefoot through the narrow ribbon of grass that grew at the edges of the river. He followed the meandering torrent and was now on the white man’s land but he knew no fear. He started to run. He was a wild gazelle and the only fear he knew was being chased by a herd of raging buffalo. His paced slowed and he spread his arms. As a light breeze caught his wings he soared effortlessly. His eyes glinted as he searched the river for his prey. Swooping down he scooped up a handful of water to quench his thirst. It was cool and fresh and soothed his dry, parched throat.
Ahead, the bend in the river hid the wondrous and mystic secret that would carry him again on his journey, a journey that would delight any young boy as he lived through his childhood years.
Crawling on his belly he slithered in the cool grass, the spray from the river catching his breath as he neared the bend. Every nerve in his body tingled as his senses became aroused.
Trailing his hand in the gushing white foam the pressure began to increase. He crept upon the deafening cascade.
He alone knew the secret that this surging force was hiding, for he had been here many times. His fanciful ideas of adventure for a young brave, the freedom of the gazelle and the unseen mysteries of the snake all paled into insignificance as he filled his lungs with air and dared once more to penetrate the icy cold waters. He fought against the surging force and finally rested against the glistening stone slabs of the hidden wall. A wall that disguised a wondrous mountain.
It was here in this mystical place as he stood between the wall of water and the wall of stone he chanted the words of his forefathers. He closed his eyes and pressing his body into the cold smooth slabs, the waterfall devoured him in a thundering roar and Brown Eagle soared up to his eyrie in the crag.
The End.
(c) 2024 Lillian Bradbury.
“Brown Eagle” is a touching tale of childhood imagination and adventure. The story follows a young brave who ventures beyond the boundaries of his reservation, exploring the wilderness with the fearless spirit of youth. As he traverses the landscape, he transforms in his mind – from a wild gazelle to a majestic eagle, soaring above the river and diving for prey. The narrative beautifully captures the essence of a child’s limitless imagination, blending the real world with fantastical elements as the boy discovers a hidden waterfall and a mystical mountain.
This enchanting story is part of Lillian Bradbury’s collection “Welcome to my World”. Bradbury’s writing style is evocative and rich with imagery, transporting readers to a world where the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Her ability to capture the innocence and wonder of childhood is truly remarkable. If you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into Bradbury’s imaginative world, why not explore more of her stories? Each tale in this collection offers a unique perspective on life, love, and the human experience.
