Week 4: "Biography" - Andrew

He was leaning down by the edge of the river and I knew instantly that I would look upon my right shoulder for guidance of my next move. Edging closer, I thanked the early afternoon weather for being as hopeless as my chances of winning the football tournament a had been in. We had travelled to Bournemouth about a week prior and had to bring him along. The heavens were a pallet full of monochromatic oil paint and the surroundings seemed to follow the sky's lead. As I stepped over to where he was hunched over, I grinned with every step that made me realise the light pattering of the overhead drizzle which nulled my footsteps on the undisturbed grass that protruded through the sticky, sucking, possessive mud.

                Stalking over him, remaining silent, I got within jumping distance and saw my own reflection in the flowing mirror of the stream. The waters were murky but I could clearly see the devil in my eyes and the innocence of an angel in his. When he was realised my intent I gave him no chance for reprieve and thrust him into the river.
                As soon as he hit the water he began flailing; the sight was sinfully appealing and one which should be savoured. He couldn’t swim well, but he was far from drowning. You could see the absolute concentration in his face at how hard he tried to stay afloat, and I had only wished to bring along a camera of sorts. He swam against the flow of the river and grasped at a low beam by the side, tears streaming down his face fast as the river’s flow increased due to the rain picking up. As he was about to pull himself out of the water, I grasped him arm and helped him out.

“I saved you!” I yelled; a grin still slathered across my face.

                He ran home crying, drenched in the foul, pungent smell of muddy waters. Later that night he gave his recollection of what happened to mother, his tongue serpentine as he told the absolute truth.

“...And he pushed me in!” he broke down in another batch of tears, his eyes sore and a vibrant red which stood out against his pallor.

“I did not! You must have fallen in; you know how clumsy you are.”

I maintained my story and received no punishment. Evading prosecution was the sweetest of fruits from the most plenteous of gardens.