River

This is one of those prompts where I can't take it literally.
So I won't.
Imagine a river. A crystal blue shining in the sunlight rushing over rocks mounted in a bed. It's racing down a hill, spiraling for the pool where it gives out. The water lines trickle past the hill and into the terrain, where a calmer part of the river is found. Keep following and you'll find a grove. It's jaw-dropping. The birds, the palms, the wildflowers--all surrounding the harshest part of the whole river. The waterfall's mouth. Just stand too close, and you'll be sprayed from the sheer amount of pressure in the water. It's beautiful. So, so beautiful. It's therapeutic to finally find the roots of the long, winding river. But, if only you could see through the water. You're bound to find dead animals--maybe some people--who couldn't handle the water. They tried and failed, or they fell in, and their remains cling to the mud underneath. Slowly, they decompose and drift out of the grove, down the river, over the hill, and into the ocean. There, their ashes become one with the sea.
You clench your fists. This beautiful phenomenon you just discovered has proved to be adequately bloodthirsty. Young fish splashed in the calmest part of the grove, the calmest part of the whole system. They laughed, swimming only feet away from what could be their own. So innocent and pure, yet cruel enough to ignore it all. Was it cruelty that caused this? Or was it a lack of awareness from the start? Nevertheless, they were happy. You wish to be happy. Looking over into the water, a clear reflection looks dead at you. Frazzled, exhausted, worn-out, the reflection looked so done with it all. Is that how you looked? Maybe a soak with the fish couldn't harm you. Stepping over the swampy land's branches and leaves, you head over to where a school of small fish played.
Roll up your trousers and slide in, your boots and socks are off to the side. The water's warm, calming. It feels great against your foot and gradually pulls you in. Eventually, your whole leg ends up in the water and your foot is nearing closer and closer to the bed. Until...
You felt it. Something grabbed your foot. Retracting back, you look into the water, searching for what touched you. You can't see it. Your arm lunges into the water under the expectation of feeling this thing out instead. Feel the fingers. The wrinkled, time-taken skin covering the thin bones. They interlock hands with you, and for a moment, you don't move.
When they let go, you're filled with determination. A need to fulfill their dreams--outdo them, even. You pull out of the water, lace up your boots, and roll down your pants. Find the clearing. Hundreds of feet of pure rock as far as the eye can see. Put one hand on a rock--it falls. You swallow your fear down and find a more stable on. Pull your feet up, and begin the journey.
Think about it.