The Boy and the Silent River

 Written by: Ally Bernales

Once, in a vast, forgotten forest, there was a boy who lived beside a river. The river was deep and swift, its waters always moving, carrying with it leaves, stones, and secrets from lands far away. Day after day, the boy waded into the river, trying to control its flow, hoping it would take him to someplace better.

“I just need to keep swimming,” he told himself every morning. “If I stop, I’ll be carried away, lost in the current.”

But the river was merciless. It surged and twisted, its force stronger than the boy’s arms could withstand. No matter how hard he swam, it always seemed to pull him further away from where he wanted to be. His body grew tired, his heart heavy with uncertainty.

He watched others by the shore, standing still or strolling along the banks, watching the river with peace in their eyes. Some were reading, others were playing music or gathering flowers. He felt small and inadequate, wondering why the river seemed to demand so much of him alone.

At night, the boy sat on a rock beside the river, listening to its murmurs as the stars reflected on its surface. “Why can’t I just be like them?” he whispered. “I want to feel at peace. But every time I try, the river just drags me under.”

One evening, an old wanderer approached and sat by the boy, listening as he shared his frustrations and fears. After a long silence, the wanderer spoke. “This river is not your enemy.”

The boy looked up, confused. “But it pulls me away. It takes me from where I want to go.”

The wanderer nodded wisely. “The river flows, but you do not have to fight it. You are part of its movement, not a prisoner of it. You can choose how to move with it, not against it.”

“But if I stop swimming, I’ll be lost,” the boy said desperately.

The wanderer smiled kindly. “No, young one. You can rest and watch the river flow without fear. It does not carry you away if you understand that it is not your battle to fight. The river is a companion, not an adversary.”

The boy sat in silence for a moment before finally stepping back from the water’s edge. He saw that the river, though swift, had a rhythm, a flow that could be followed rather than fought. He could ride its current or walk alongside it, neither one losing himself in the rush nor waiting for it to carry him away.

That night, the boy lay beneath the stars, not to surrender, but to understand. He would no longer be consumed by the river, but instead, learn to move with it, to swim when needed, to rest when needed, and to journey toward his own destination, no longer afraid of the currents.

And so, little by little, he learned that the river was not a force to conquer but a journey to be shared. His path was his own to choose, and in that choice, he found hope.

Image from: https://rb.gy/yikyut