HELM

I ran.
The rest of my group was far behind
So it was just me
Alone in a maze of vines and ancient Dipterocarp trees
Covered in fluffy lime-green Sphagnum moss sparkling in crystal condensation.
My boots clanked on the boardwalk
To the sound of the high-pitched warbles of the mynas in the jungle-top
As I cut through the air in a swirl of opaque mist.

It rained.
Not the sprinkle of soft, cool pinpricks,
Nor the splattering of sporadic fat globules,
But the pouring of icy waves,
Sloshing down the back of a useless coat
Streaming down slick wood and glossy verdant
Ripping away the thick white clouds in an instant.
The dusty handrails ran bright with quicksilver rivers.

I ran.
My soaked shirt clung to my clammy skin
And my toes squelched in my spongy shoes
But a breathy shout of glee escaped from my lips
As my boots slid down wooden boards turned waterslide
Throwing up a spray of mud and browned rain.

But why stick to the trail at all?
I leapt down from the raised walk
And landed ankle-deep in the peat
Flinging specks of wood and rot up my flapping pant legs.
The next step sent me sprawling over a raised tree root
And into a bed of moss and ferns.
Tak, tak, tak went the rain drops on my plastic hood
The fragrance of decay and rain
Wafted up to my nostrils.

It smells like dirt and filth and freedom. ▲