Narrative

It was a very humid day as the sun slowly crept its way up the dull blue sky. My best friend Ethan lived only a block away, and I would spend most my time there during the short summer months. His house was no older than we were, about ten years old, set back behind about half a mile of trees. On a random day in July we were sitting at his fire pit, trying to think of something to do.

“So what do ya wana do?” Ethan asked.

“I dunno,” was my automatic response. It was always a struggle when we were deciding on an adventure. After a moment’s hesitation a thought flashed, “How bout we just go in the forest?”

“Yeah dude (back when dude was popular), let me grab my boots.”

Ethan had about 10 acres of trees and swamp for his back yard and we spent a lot of our days tracking through what we coined “the forest”. After about five minutes Ethan emerged from his garage sporting his dirt encrusted, leather hiking boots, carrying another pair meant for me. He handed me a pair of rubber rain boots, which were obviously one or two sizes too big for me. My foot slipped right in; my feet were just large enough to keep them from being too awkward.

“Right, you ready?” I said after a few shakes of my feet.

“Yeah man, let’s go before my dad asks where we’re going,” Ethan sprinted into the dense trees. I took off just moments after, skipping over fallen branches, trailing right behind him. After about a quarter of a mile we started to slow down; we were coming to the first of the many swamp areas the forest beheld. The ground was covered in leaves and it was hard to tell exactly where you would sink. I anchored my left foot, exploring with my right until the ground eventually gave way. Now that I knew where the swamp started I knew where I didn't want to fall.

The forest was full of fallen trees that made perfect bridges to cross the expansive swamp. We spent nearly two hours crossing countless trees, slipping every so often; having our...