Hanover High School's Literary Magazine, The Pen of Iron, comes out anually and is completely set up by students, this year we have graduating both our editor in chief and our main book editor, leaving some room to be filled next year, shoot us an email if you're interested in a post, or getting work into the book.
Summer Swing The warm air and rays of light combine to heat the top layer of my skin until I am forced to jump into the river. The water raps around me like a silk blanket, slowly cooling me down. All thoughts of school have left my mind weeks ago, allowing me to exists one hour at a time. Most of my hours are spent on the snake-like Connecticut River. Its murky water, so warm and welcoming, beckons me from my house. Water that seems to run forever entices my lust for discovery, to the point where any efforts to resist the temptation of swimming are useless. Within the endless coils of water and land there exist locations of great excitement and fear. Rope swings that some may call death cables lie hidden along the sides of the river, so elusive that only a seasoned vet can reach them. Trees stand like primordial guards along the river’s boarder. Their branches intertwine to form an impenetrable wall of green, a wall that hides what I seek. Towering miles above the ground, the bark-covered giants extend their timeworn limbs in search for the warm caress of the sunlighTheir unseen eyes survey the mirror-like water, never reacting simply observing. Clinging to the banks of the river, they hold on by the tips of their roots. Their ancient bodies hang precariously over the water, a perfect haven for a rope swing and a perfect place to prove ones strength. A group gathers and prepares to embark on a journey to the famous rope swing. Hidden by the thick forest canopy and tucked away on a cliff-like bank, the swing waits for whoever is brave enough to grab hold. We trudge through the verdant under growth until we reach a pair of rusted train tracks. The weathered tracks serve as a route to our final goal. Every step pumps more adrenaline through my veins. The sound of rocks compressing under my feet oscillates through my body. The cold sting of the rusted metal grounds me as my mind runs rampant with anticipation. Each stride carries me closer to the source of my excitement. We round a bend in the tracks; the endless wall of green we’ve traveled along clears ever so slightly, disclosing the location we have come to find. I run to be the first to gaze upon the massive black rope slicing through the blue sky. The rest gather around as we take in the sheer size of the swing; its mythical stature could rival that of a skyscraper. The tension grows as the weak realize what they have committed to. I carefully step towards the dangling rope, inching my way across the vertical bank. My heart is pounding in my chest; small beads of sweat begin to form on my upper brow. My fingers stretch out for the rope then clench it firmly. The thick bumpy nylon takes it rightful place in the palm of my hand. I step back constricting the rope with all my power and realign my hands. As I look around at the others, I can see the fear in their eyes. Their fear fuels my thrust for excitement. I take one final step back and give a reassuring nod. I look down, then up and jump.
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ReplyDeleteSummer Swing
ReplyDeleteThe warm air and rays of light combine to heat the top layer of my skin until I am forced to jump into the river. The water raps around me like a silk blanket, slowly cooling me down. All thoughts of school have left my mind weeks ago, allowing me to exists one hour at a time. Most of my hours are spent on the snake-like Connecticut River. Its murky water, so warm and welcoming, beckons me from my house. Water that seems to run forever entices my lust for discovery, to the point where any efforts to resist the temptation of swimming are useless.
Within the endless coils of water and land there exist locations of great excitement and fear. Rope swings that some may call death cables lie hidden along the sides of the river, so elusive that only a seasoned vet can reach them. Trees stand like primordial guards along the river’s boarder. Their branches intertwine to form an impenetrable wall of green, a wall that hides what I seek. Towering miles above the ground, the bark-covered giants extend their timeworn limbs in search for the warm caress of the sunlighTheir unseen eyes survey the mirror-like water, never reacting simply observing. Clinging to the banks of the river, they hold on by the tips of their roots. Their ancient bodies hang precariously over the water, a perfect haven for a rope swing and a perfect place to prove ones strength.
A group gathers and prepares to embark on a journey to the famous rope swing. Hidden by the thick forest canopy and tucked away on a cliff-like bank, the swing waits for whoever is brave enough to grab hold. We trudge through the verdant under growth until we reach a pair of rusted train tracks. The weathered tracks serve as a route to our final goal. Every step pumps more adrenaline through my veins. The sound of rocks compressing under my feet oscillates through my body. The cold sting of the rusted metal grounds me as my mind runs rampant with anticipation. Each stride carries me closer to the source of my excitement. We round a bend in the tracks; the endless wall of green we’ve traveled along clears ever so slightly, disclosing the location we have come to find. I run to be the first to gaze upon the massive black rope slicing through the blue sky. The rest gather around as we take in the sheer size of the swing; its mythical stature could rival that of a skyscraper.
The tension grows as the weak realize what they have committed to. I carefully step towards the dangling rope, inching my way across the vertical bank. My heart is pounding in my chest; small beads of sweat begin to form on my upper brow. My fingers stretch out for the rope then clench it firmly. The thick bumpy nylon takes it rightful place in the palm of my hand. I step back constricting the rope with all my power and realign my hands. As I look around at the others, I can see the fear in their eyes. Their fear fuels my thrust for excitement. I take one final step back and give a reassuring nod. I look down, then up and jump.