Jason walked into the small clearing. “Here we are,” he said.
Richard dropped his bag and looked around at the dry, dead foliage and dried-up Georgia clay. “Why here?”
“You need to work on your creative writing assignment, right? I’m trying to inspire you.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “And how is this supposed to help?”
“What’s your prompt?”
Richard sighed and pulled a slip of paper out of his bag. “‘Think about a place that has the mystery and beauty of a poem to you. Close your eyes and take yourself on an imaginary journey through that place.’ Which is why I need to get back to my room so I can get on the Google image search, not sit here and look at dead trees in a construction site.”
Jason furrowed his brow. “Yeah, what are they doing here?”
Richard shrugged. “Building a trail or something. But between that, the drought, and winter, there’s not much here. Come on, let’s go.”
“What’s wrong with here?”
Richard took a deep breath. “I just told you what’s wrong with it! It’s dead; that’s what’s wrong with it.”
“So what’s it need?” Jason asked, his foxy grin going unnoticed by Richard.
“Pine trees, for one thing!” Richard yelled. “Really fragrant pine trees with the sap oozing out of them that smell like…” He inhaled sharply though his nose and closed his eyes. “Christmas. Smells like a good Christmas morning.”
“What else?”
Richard thought, not opening his eyes. “Softer ground. Maybe some grass — no, it’s too shady for that. But plenty of decomposing leaves and pine needles.”
“Leaves?” Jason stopped his work and twitched an ear. “I thought we had pine trees.”
“And oak trees; we need the shade. It does get kinda warm on these spring afternoons, doesn’t it?”
Jason grinned again. “What about the stream?”
Richard bit his lip. “The stream needs rocks — moss-covered rocks. And not too deep, but more than a trickle. Enough that I can hear it.”
Jason looked down at the stream. “But what does it sound like?”
“Like someone slurping the last of a soda through a straw…” He shook his head. “No… more like babbling. Babbling about the spring it started from, all the places it’s been to so far, where it thinks its going, about life…” He opened his eyes. “Okay, I think I’ve got…” He trailed off as he looked around at the now vibrant, alive clearing.
Richard looked at Jason. “Did you do this?”
Jason suppressed a chuckle. “It’s your description; I just painted it.”
Richard nodded in understanding. He turned around, making sure to take in the entire scenery. Finally, he grinned and turned to Jason.
“It says to take a journey, right? Get my sword.”