Mother had told me that we could not get a lizard, because the lizard would not like to live in dust and puddles. She also told me that the lizard had no place to sleep. I told her that the lizard could sleep under my pillow, my blanket, but she told me that we couldn’t afford those either. Instead, she gave me a bucket and told me to go to the town well, and get as much water as I could. She always woke me up early, because when the sun peeked over the horizon, there would be too many people, and I could never get close enough to throw my bucket down the hole with a string tied to the handle. Sometimes, I didn’t tie the string tight enough, and the bucket would be lost among the pots and pans and bottles and shoes. Sometimes, I would see something white float to the surface. But it was always face down, so I could never tell what it was.

On the way to the well, I followed a trickle of water that craved a valley into the dirt road. At the head of that river lived a tiny dark green shell. And when it was warm, limbs would protrude from the holes and lift the rock off the ground. I always wondered how such tiny legs could carry that shell – how it could stand on three legs and takes a step forward, because I never could. Every day I walked only to the well, and keep my feet on the dirt path.

One day, on my fourth journey to the well, storm clouds started to build above. Before long, rainwater slid down my cheeks and drenched the cloth draped over my shoulders. The bandages on my feet were getting stuck in the mud. The uphill dirt path became a torrent, streaming down onto my shins. The water bucket on my back was overflowing. I stopped. Water raged around my legs. The rain had finally gotten to my skin, and I felt a chill up my spine. My feet were freezing. I stood there a moment, my head up. I could see the dim glow of our home at the top of the hill.

Out of the corner of my right eye, I saw a green rock within reach. Thinking that I might be able to gain a better footing by bracing myself on the rock, I reached over and grabbed hold. It worked. I was secure, at least for now. I was preparing to continue up the hill when the rock shifted under my foot. I yelped in surprise and sank my fingers into the mud. I looked over my shoulder; I came across the turtle once more. Its legs were out, all four of them. It had managed to brace itself against the current and my weight? I could see its eyes, still calm and as black as ever.

I didn’t move, just hung there by one hand in the mud as I watched the turtle. It slowly blinked. I used my free arm and grabbed the shell. “You and I both, buddy.” It would only put me on three limbs, but it is time I took a step forward. Sucking in a deep watery breath, I pushed off my legs and grabbed a tree root. I used the tree root to pull myself up further and continued to claw my way upriver. The lantern from my house was brighter now. “Not far now buddy- ”

The path I was stepping on suddenly gave away. My feet were dangling, frantically searching for something to stand on. Now I was only holding on with one hand. I felt a sting travel up my arm. “Cut it out!” I yelled at the turtle. It had stuck out the full length of its neck and was nibbling on my thumb. It looked at me for a moment, then bit down hard. I hollered with pain and let go. The tiny turtle flailed its limbs as it tumbled down with the torrent. Just before it fell out of sight, I swear that it had looked up with its black eyes and gave me a small, permanent smile.

With my hand free of the turtle, I was able to use it to regain my balance. Salt clouded my eyes as I dragged myself the last few yard up the hill.

As I stumbled into the house, my mother’s eyes grew wide with worry. She didn’t ask about the water.
“I don’t think I want a lizard.” I told her in front of the fire.
“Why’s that.” She asked without looking up. I waited until she stopped washing clothes and looked at me before answering.

“Because they can only carry their own weight.”

















Swift Falls Second Person
Mother had told him that they could not get a lizard, because the lizard would not like to live in dust and puddles. She also told him that the lizard had no place to sleep. Libou told her that the lizard could sleep under his pillow, his blanket, but she said that they couldn’t afford those either. Instead, she gave him a bucket and told him to go to the town well and get as much water as he could. She always woke him up early, because when the sun peeked over the horizon, there would be too many people, and he could never get close enough to throw his bucket down the hole with a rope tied to the handle. Sometimes, Libou didn’t tie the rope tight enough, and the bucket would be lost amongst the pots and pans and bottles and shoes. Sometimes, he would see something white float to the surface. It was the color of bloated skin though it was always face down, so he could never tell what it was.
On the way to the well, he followed a trickle of water that craved a crevice in the dirt road. At the head of that river lived a tiny dark green shell. And when it was warm, limbs would protrude from the holes and lift the rock off the ground. He always wondered how such tiny legs could carry that shell – how it could stand on three legs and takes a step forward, because he never could. Every day Libou walked only to the well, and kept his feet on the dirt path.
One day, on his fourth journey to the well, storm clouds started to build above. Before long, rainwater slid down his cheeks and drenched the cloth draped over his shoulders. The bandages on his feet were getting stuck in the mud. The uphill dirt path became a torrent, streaming down onto his shins. The water bucket on his back was overflowing. He stopped. Water raged around his legs. The rain had finally gotten to his skin, and he felt a chill up his spine. His feet were freezing. He stood there a moment, his head up. He could see the dim glow of his home at the top of the hill.
Out of the corner of his right eye, Libou saw a green rock within reach. Thinking that he might be able to gain a better footing by bracing himself on the rock, he reached over and grabbed hold. It worked. He was secure, at least for now. He was preparing to continue up the hill when the rock shifted under his foot. He yelped in surprise and sank his fingers into the mud. He looked over his shoulder; and found that he had come across the turtle once more. Its legs were out, all four of them. It had managed to brace itself against the current and his weight. He could see its eyes, still calm and as black as ever.
Libou didn’t move, just hung there by one hand in the mud as he watched the turtle. It slowly blinked. He used his free arm and grabbed the shell. “You and I both buddy,” he said. It would only put him on three limbs, but it’s time he took a step forward. Sucking in a deep watery breath, he pushed off his legs and grabbed a tree root. Droplets were snaked down the root like tiny ants. He used the tree root to pull himself further up and continued to claw his way upriver. The lantern from his house was brighter now. “Not far now buddy- ” he gasped.
The path he was stepping on suddenly gave away. His feet dangled, frantically searching for something to step on. Now he was holding on with only one hand. He felt a sting travel up his arm. “Cut it out!” He yelled at the turtle. It had stuck out the full length of its neck and was nibbling on Libou’s thumb. It looked at him for a moment, then bit down hard. He hollered with pain and let go. The tiny turtle flailed its limbs as it tumbled down with the torrent. Just before it fell out of sight, he swears that it had looked up with its black eyes and flashed a lazy, permanent smile.
With his hand free of the turtle, he was able to use it to regain his balance. Salt clouded his eyes as he dragged himself the last few yard up the hill.
As he stumbled into the house, his mother’s eyes grew wide with worry. She didn’t ask about the water.
“I don’t think I want a lizard.” Libou told her in front of the fire, later that night.
“Why’s that.” She asked. He waited until she stopped washing clothes and looked up before answering.

“Because they can only carry their own weight.”