1017. River walk


Huck made his way to the nearby river to get his daughter. She’d gone there with other children for a swim. They did that nearly every day in summer. Today however, Huck went down to the river for a reason; his wife had collapsed and died suddenly while preparing lunch. Huck went to the river to tell his daughter the sad news and to bring her home.

Together, hand in hand, they walked back to their house. Mummy has died very suddenly. Everything is going to be fine. They crossed barefoot through the swamp that bordered the river. They crossed through the stretch of long grass. They passed through the plantation of trees. They reached home. Everything is going to be fine.

“These footprints preserved in rock,” said the palaeontologist 49,000 years later, “are the footprints of a primitive adult male and child. They were in a hurry. It’s possible to imagine these footprints being made by a father teaching his son how to ferociously hunt and kill.”

27 thoughts on “1017. River walk

      1. Yvonne

        Woot! I’ve never been called a personage before, let alone a dear one. Or, did you misspell that, and I’m really a parsonage??

        Here’s to a good 2017 for you and your crew, my expensive parsonage. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  1. umashankar

    I was not ready for the ironic slap at the end, the real story that holds the one you began with. Yet, the grief and grip of tension upon the father and the daughter have been captured remarkably well and withstand the satirical twist of the climax. Such is the stuff the academia is built of!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thanks, Uma. I always look forward (as opposed to my misspelling of foreword elsewhere on the blogosphere!) to your perceptive comments. I’ve been in a bit of a grouchy mood of late, and it always brings good cheer to see your intelligent observations.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. umashankar

        Never mind the misspelling as long as the intention gets across. At times, typos in comments indicate certain intensity of emotions. Still, if you permit me I would change the forward into foreword…
        It makes me happy to learn my comments make you happy!

        Liked by 1 person


I delight in having my dull life coloured by your intelligent perceptions, your wit, and your vivacity.

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