Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls

Please, I beg you. Heed my warning. Don’t go chasing waterfalls.
I’ve been down that road, and it is a dark path nobody should travel.

Let me break it down for you

I chased a waterfall. I knocked it out. I dragged it back to my car. I stuffed it into my trunk. I drove to the middle of the woods.

Right now I’m standing 5 feet from my vehicle and my foot is resting on the blade of a rusty shovel. The terrified waterfall locked in my car will not stop shrieking at me to spare its life. It’s begging for mercy and wants me to let it go. I’m quickly running out of options.

If I release the waterfall, it will surely run away and turn me in to the police. I’ll be locked up and the rest of my life will be spent in agony, regretting that fateful nature hike where I first felt its gentle mist, stood blissfully in its presence, and then recklessly chased it on foot for 6 miles.

Even if it doesn’t turn me in, the waterfall will spend the rest of its life retelling the traumatic tale of its kidnapping to future generations. Young streams and lake beds will be raised by the shell of what used to be a glistening cascade. It will no longer shimmer with beauty & innocence. Instead it will tremble with fear and think only morbid thoughts about its futile existence.

I wish I could take it all back. My arrogance distracted me and I thought that I was ready to take on a such a magnificent body of water. I feel remorse. I should’ve just stuck to the rivers and lakes i’m used to.