It started as a break from reality, a vacation to escape from the stifling environment at home. My mind was conflicted from balancing work and home life, constantly having to make sacrifices just to get by. Innately, I was always an adventurous person, but my occupation never fostered the desire to explore new terrains or even experience more than the mundane daily task. I had been conserving my vacation days for years, just to get a week to cleanse my mind and replenish my mental sanity. For the longest time, a disoriented picture of the Amazon River had been pinned onto the fridge by a powerful magnet and lost into oblivion. Its vibrant colors and diverse foliage had attracted me to visit it for a couple of days, imagining how relieving the luscious environment could be. 

All that excitement that had piled up transformed into regret, wondering how I could have been so enthusiastic about taking a trip to the Amazon. Danger surrounded me everywhere I looked as I trembled down the muddy waters of the river. I was seated in a dampened, unstable wooden raft with a paddled clenched in my sweaty palms. The chattering of the animals was unsettling, each one creeping closer for my feeble body. The trip had started pleasant, with the assurance of a foreign tour guide. I had hired him because of his cheap prices, convincing myself that his low prices would satisfy me no matter what services he provided. Stealing my hard-earned money, he had left me stranded in the unsettling waters of the Amazon, only informing me about the dangers ahead. 

The murky waters became ravenous and held my paddles useless. I rummaged my bag, trying to find anything to assist me to safety. I found a safety rope, which I frantically tossed over my shoulder to an unstable tree branch. Dangling from the branch, it allowed me to plunge out of the boat and into the recesses of the cavernous tree. I watched as my boat trembled down the streams and into the depths of a cascading waterfall. I leaped from the unsteadiness and uncertainty of the branch onto the lush, damp forest floor of the Amazon. The unsettling chattering and chirping from the animals caused me to gingerly scout the surroundings. Colossal trees towered over me, blocking the sunlight from penetrating its leaves. The soothing sounds of the river mingled with the exotic sounds coming from creatures of all shapes and sizes. The aroma of tropical plants filled my nose, and the various colors of the plants peppered the ground. I needed to find safety and fast, watching as massive grey clouds painted the sky. 

A sliver of light from a fire escaped from the cluster of leaves and into my vision. Without hesitation, I followed the glowing flames unbothered by the dangers around me. I could hear the voices and conversation of people getting louder as I inched closer to the source. The sight of a small village became immanent, and the large trees became vast plains. The village had a sense of familiarity, the designs and elements teasing at something tangible. Slowly, I approached the village, warily hoping to stay undetected. A deserted small wooden cottage rested on the top of a hill, isolated with dim candles perched outside its doorstep. My hands trembled as I grabbed the handle, and the door creaked open. A bed rested in the middle of the room, with an antiquated nightstand accompanying it. A man slept in the bed, with strikingly resembling facial features to myself. He drew me closer, as I peered over the rungs of the footboard. He did not resemble; he was a clone of me entrapped in a deep slumber. I touched his cheek and felt my own swelter and sweat profusely. I could feel my body temperature rise as the eyes of my clone awakened. The popcorn textured ceiling shattered my vision, along with the radiating glow from the bedside light. As I looked around, I could feel myself drenched in sweat, along with the orthodox sight of my unkept room. I had let out a relived sigh, feeling a smirk manifest on my face. It was all a figment of my imagination. 

The soft wool of the blue duvet enclosed me into my own world. A flashlight’s glow was a medley of bright pigments illuminating my world. Time seemed to have stopped, as I evaded into my books. My books gave me freedom, and control in a world which I couldn’t. It was an asylum, especially after the accident. One which changed my life.

The trees were glistening in a new spring, their flowers blooming and attracting new life. The smell of honey and morning dew filled the sky, and life was bustling. Ripe apples were ready to fall, which gave me the idea to collect my own. The apple tree was 200 years old and towered over me menacingly. My only option was to gingerly climb it. I started the rough journey up, with the support of a ladder, until I reached the summit. The dense bark became soft and patterned with life. I glanced out into the view from the pinnacle of the tree. The world became just me and nature as I felt all my thoughts and worries escaping the palm of my hand. The sights were breathtaking, and they placed me in a trance of oblivion. I lost consciousness and could feel my body falling. Panic and anxiety took control as I fell to the ground. The world went black, as the sights and sounds faded.

My daze ended in a small, white room. I rested on a soft white bed, and my body was feeling very tense. Workers dressed in white cloaks surrounded my bed, each having a worried expression covering their faces. I figured I was in a hospital since surgical monitors and machines functioned around me. I started to rise, simply to no effect. I felt a new, uncomfortable feeling of lost control, one which placed my body in an unfamiliar notion. The doctors sighed despairingly, and exchanged united signals. A tall man with gelled hair and a worried smile painted on his face approached me. “There is no easy way to say this, Corman. Your legs are paralyzed, and treatment could not save it.” He was too ashamed to show his face, and backed up quickly. I jerked wildly and tried to maneuver my legs. Unresponsive, I broke down into tears, thousands of thoughts rushing in and out of my mind. I tossed and turned uncontrollably, how could my body betray me?

The sound of the crisp pages turning at my fingertips delighted me. I pranced through the pages, scouring for my favorite chapter. Suddenly, I heard a loud sound in front of me. Curiosity swarmed through me, as I used my cane to examine the spot. The number “12:00” stared menacingly at me , as the hardwood floor creaked and caved under me. I found a book, which usually would not confound me. But this book in particular had peculiar traits, and gave me an ambiguous feeling of unfamiliarity. The dusty cover represented its antiquity, and the pages stained with text. The scent represented its character, enriching the reader with the welcoming feeling of a story. As my fingers ruffled and danced through the pages, a realization struck me; the book was blank, and the text was a figment of my imagination.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my possessions skitter spontaneously into thin air. But I remained riveted upon the new book, the compulsion to scour its pages overcame me. Suddenly, the floor below me tossed and turned like a vessel on stormy waters. Book in my hand, I rushed to the bed, which had mysteriously disappeared.

I looked around and confirmed that I was no longer in my bedroom. The book rested in the nook of my arm, and my cane was no longer grasped in my hand. I felt my body sway bellow me and was prepared to tumble. As I closed my eyes, I felt a security which was tangible. One that seemed faded throughout my life, but always hinted its presence. I could walk freely once again.

I should have known what it was, after getting that enlarged present on my 30th birthday. The box was wobbly and filled with pigments of yellow and green. It trembled in my hand and yelped for attention. It seemed like any other present, that was until I opened it. My face was instantly lit up and my world had become a re-lit candle. A surge of memories traveled through my body and created emotions I had never felt before. It reminded me of a time long ago, when I once felt these strange emotions.

As an only child, I had always wanted a companion when I was younger. Someone to play with, eat with, and share my feelings with. So, on my 10th birthday, I implored my parents for a sibling. With a joking smile on their face, they told me that one was enough trouble for them. I kept asking, but I got the same response each time. Eventually, I settled on a toy car for my birthday, and dejectedly went into my room. My whole life I wanted someone to be there for me, and someone to enjoy growing up with. After contemplating for a while, the thoughts tired me out, and eventually I fell asleep on the soft mattress under the thick blue blankets.

The next morning, I woke up to a letter resting peacefully on the foot of my bed. I opened the letter gingerly, quickly seeing my mothers unique handwriting. The letters were each a different font, each combining to be a delicate melody of words. In disbelief, I threw up the letter and ran straight into the living room. I did not even notice my parents grinning as they watched me run past them. I saw the creature waiting cluelessly on the rug, still getting familiar with its surroundings. Although I had always wanted a human sibling, I knew a puppy would certainly fill that void. I could already imagine all the possibilities and adventures we would conquer. I already decided the perfect name: Romp.

Over the next decade, Romp and I grew older together, and lived life to the utmost joy. He sparked a light inside of me which lit up a path through my toughest times. I knew he could never be replaced, and Romp shared a special bond with me as my unique sibling. When he left me, that light lost its spark, and left me with a loneliness that I carried over my shoulder. I felt like I would never be the same without my sidekick always there to fight with me.

So when I opened that large box, and saw the innocent puppy staring at me with its captivating eyes, I reminisced my youth and the companion that walked beside me for twelve years, watching closely as I grew older. I loved Romp more than anything in the world, and knew I would share that love with the young companion. A single tear rolled down my cheek, holding all the memories of my first sibling, one which I would never forget.

An Original Poem by Rishabh Sharma

The plump, red, delectable, delight, reclining in the tree

Oh how I longed to savor its closeness to me

The promise of its sweet, sugary juice running on my lips

The exhilaration which magically manifests on my fingertips

For I could only imagine how this glee would be

As that edible sphere was still in the recesses of that cavernous tree




So I snatched a branch, which had fallen to the ground

In my attempt to snag this coveted object which I had just found

But alas, my reach tipped me over, with the stick I did fall

Spied from the ground, the tree had never before seemed this tall

I floundered, rose, not wishing to waste any valuable time

For this tree I simply had to be prepared to climb




The rugged, brown bark of the tree gave fresh blisters to my palm

It was all worth the tumble and toss, for the prize close to my soul saw me calm

The bouquet of morning dew and the crunch of delight could be felt through my body

The thrill of the chase created in my smile, something tantalizingly gaudy

I managed to finagle the object after a very short, yet desperate grapple

At last, to my utmost surprise, I finally had my beautiful red apple