ALL THAT WAS LEFT BEHIND

The Gold is Gone...Thanks Sam

During a brief period of rest, Samuel reached into his jean pocket, and fished out the familiar marble, swinging on the thin chain. It dangled in his grasp, and he tossed it over to where I sat.

It bounced there on the forest floor, the sound of it echoing through my mind like a dreaded song, and it twinkled in the dull light lightly coating the air.

            “There’s your necklace. I found it right away, Sea. Thanks.”

            I gazed at it wearily in the mucky leaves in front of me, lying dormant, unaware of the burdening meaning it possessed. I carefully looked to Charlie, fearful and stiff.

            Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed together as he pieced it together. My heart dropped a notch, and I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t understand what would make Samuel do that just then.

            I looked to him, trying to get him to clear it over, but the hint when unknown.

            “What was that for?” Charlie asked, intrigued and not at all hiding the growing suspicion in his voice. “That’s yours?” he demanded me, his eyes fixated tightly on mine in anger.

            I didn’t say anything.

            “You wanted him to find us? How…how could you?”

            I drew in a breath, horrified of what might happen. I looked up to him with wide eyes, trying to explain.

            He wouldn’t hear it. He closed his betrayed eyes, and blocked everything out.

            The old man collapsed onto the hard forest floor after a good period of stillness. He crashed down on his knees and exhaled an exaggerated sounding sigh.

            I snatched the necklace from the dusty dirt and shoved it in my pocket.

            Samuel and I exchanged glances, and then walked up ahead to observe the old man on the ground.

            About five meters in front of us lay a wide stream babbling with life. The ribbon of water it contained rushed by in a cool, calm manner, creating a relaxing musical sound. I glanced at the rushing water, and then turned back to Charlie.

            “Mr Anderson? Are you alright?” I asked awkwardly.

            By the look on Samuel’s face, he just wanted to ditch the guy and find wherever we were going on his own. A part of me wouldn’t mind proceeding with that type of thing, but another part of me knew that we had to remain realistic.

            Charlie looked up at me, his eyes droopy and weak. His mouth carefully parted and breathed the words, “Please. I'm quite old and frail. Drag me to the stream, and let me drink.”

            I looked up at Samuel, whom was also staring at Charlie, and he wore a queer expression when he caught my gaze.

            “No way. You’re fine, I can smell a liar half a million miles away,” he scoffed.

            Charlie glared at him, hardening his eyes into deep pits of rocky ice. They reminded me of planets, wandering the lonesome universe in their frigid grief. Then, he looked up to me, transforming them in a flash, and into brilliant sparkling eyes of hope, pleading me as he asked, “please?”

            Fixated on the situation, I observed his mangled body lying on the ground. He didn’t appear to be in pain; his face wasn’t scrunched up in agony, nor did he walk with a limp before he collapsed. No, the man was quite alright, and not hurt in the least bit. In that sense, I would agree with Samuel. In a different context however, I didn’t.