A polyester shirt tucked in his polka pants Luca set off from home.

His
brother’s old kaki boots matched with plaid socks and a brown bag were his
favourite combination to wear to school. Luca was the smallest of his family
members and was privileged to attend a school unlike his brothers. Luca came
from a poor background. His father was only seventeen when he decided to
leave Moldova to establish his own small fishing business on the north east
coast of America. Unfortunately, Luca crosses some parts of the temperate
forest every day to reach school.
However, on his way through the forest today Luca saw a new opening.
Fascinated that he may find a new way he followed the path. He went on and
on. Never had a few moments seemed like an eternity as Luca felt his
consciousness ebbing away, and his thoughts, as clear and concise as they were
mere moments ago, were coming to an end. Seconds later, Luca found an
opening where droplets of snow were forming on a mountain. “Mmm
adventure” Luca smelt it in the air. It lingered in the frosty swirls of mist and
reflected in the jagged walls of ice. It echoed through the canyon and up into the
sky. Luca observed that rags of mist and snow had clung to the mountain. Luca
peered suspiciously over the edge of the cliff, trying to take in what he has seen.
Luca took a deep breath and jumped. He plummeted down and down as the air
scrambled past him. When he regained consciousness, his throat was as spiny as
a cactus. Drops of saliva forced its way down like a traveller through a maze.
Luca was white as chalk. His eyes and his mouth were frozen wide open in an
expression of stunned surprise.
The sun had erupted over the top, the mountain threw off its tattered robe and
pierced the brightening canvas above. Luca found himself in a desert. The
burning sensation in his throat grew more when Luca pressed the cool glass rim
of his water bottle against his dry, cracked lips. A single drop of water traced its
way inside his mouth, Luca savoured it. A few hundred meters out he saw water
shimmering on land. The river was a sleeping cobra. It lay across the land in
smooth seductive curves, beautiful in the morning light, cool and innocuous. As
he approached the end of the river, Luca’s death struck eyes oozed terror, and
the salty droplets damped his ashen face. The river ended at a hundred kilometre
drop!