Reflections

Part 1

The cobblestone pathway stretched through the vast field, young trees occasionally littered along the edge, Oliver's footsteps ringing out against them. He'd been on the road for days, told to follow it until the end. At this rate, he wasn't sure whether he would follow to the road's end, or to his own end.

Nonetheless, he walked. Nothing but a small satchel and the clothes on his back, searching for the clue he was promised. Searching for the one person who promised he'd come back, but never did.

Every sip he took, every time the sound of his step rang out as if it was echoing in a valley rather than an open meadow, a piece of his hope was lost. A piece of his self was lost.

Yet he continued, knowing full well he had no other choice.

The sun wasn't harsh, but Oliver still felt like he was melting. After hours of walking through still air in the bright sunlight, he finally felt that he had earned a break. He slumped against the thin trunk of a young tree and settled down in the patchy shade of the sparse leaves. A short-lived breeze drifted past him, bringing him brief respite as it lightly ruffled his short brown hair like grass in a meadow.

Oliver reached into his satchel and pulled out a small leather waterskin. Shaking it to judge the amount of liquid remaining, he proceeded to tilt his head back with his eyes closed, and poured the remaining liquid into his open mouth, holding the position in hopes to get every last drop. Peeking with a single eye while holding the position, Oliver noticed a single drop hanging from the edge of the waterskin. With a soft sigh, he gave the container a light shake and caught the drop on his tongue, letting the final bit of cool liquid roll down his tongue. Defeated, he let his hand fall to his side, knowing that he would have to find a water source sooner rather than later.

Oliver sat against the tree for what felt like hours. Not a single soul, nor another breeze. Not even so much as the sound of a cicada or a cricket. When the sage had told him that 'he had to undergo this journey on his own, he didn't think it would be this isolated. Even if he had, there was nothing left for him to do. He didn't have a home or a life to return to.

His childhood friend was his last hope at his old life; so all he could do was look for David. Pray that he was still out there somewhere; still trying to keep his promise; still alive.

With that final thought and plea for David, Oliver got back to his feet and resumed walking, this time with the waterskin dangling from his right hand as his satchel hung on the left. This time, not only searching for a clue, but also for a source of water.

After what felt like days of walking in a never-setting sun, Oliver spotted a small well situated a short distance off the never-ending path. As he approached, he noticed that a narrow cobblestone pathway branched from the main road and led to this well, the same stone melding into the cylindrical well. It was as if it were making it clear that the well was simply a stop in the journey, not the end of it.

Oliver approached the well, typing the rope to his waters in and dropping it into the deep, pool, watching the reflection of a red shirt ripple as the waterskin made contact. Quickly pulling the waterskin out, Oliver gulped down its contents, splashing some onto his face in the process to cool down. He pulled water again, this time, emptying the container over his head, dousing his soft brown hair, followed by his bright green shirt.

Looking down in glee, he inspected his shirt, noting how much better he felt cooled down.

As if his brain had lagged behind and finally snapped back to where it was meant to be, Oliver froze. He looked down at his soaking green shirt. Remembering the red shirt reflected in the well he approached the edge and looked down with trepidation.

Below him, in the wavering surface of the water, he saw himself staring down in his soaking green shirt. Beside his reflection, a man in a red shirt, with a face Oliver was all too familiar with.

"D- David?"