Tasting Gold
I popped my head above the water, and in the second before I went under, I finally caught a glimpse of it – the garden of the hanging gold. Against the background of the darkening sky, in the blinding flashes of lightning, it swayed violently in the brewing stormy winds, shimmering like a colony of frolicking fireflies, seductively extending an invitation whilst challenging to take part in its chaotic celebration. Though I wanted to get a better view, I dared not wipe my eyes, frightened I’d sink. My tiny arms, trembling from pushing the weight of the never-ending stream, grew heavier with each stroke. My legs, bony and puny, kicked desperately at the invisible hands trying to drag me under to its depths. My hollow stomach growled over the roaring atmosphere, ringing a jarring alarm throughout my gaunt body. Holding my head barely above the water surface, I gasped to fill up my little chest with breath. I pushed, kicked and gasped – determined to touch gold. And then th...