Creative non fiction. Place

I stare down at the shiny rocks that lead down into the wide river.
I sit at the very top on soft damp grass as my little legs dangle over the edge. Such an adventure! I shuffle forward, toes stretching my legs down further and further until I can feel the rubber of the water shoes bending slightly from contact with rock.
A small jerk forward and I drop down, landing on a rock and gripping the grass that I can only just reach for balance.
The rock that I chose to land on is smooth but dry, to far up to be even damp from the spray of the water against the rocks below.
I shift sideways this time, my eyes flicking down to the light grey rock at my feet every few seconds as I get towards the edge and balance becomes difficult.
I slowly relax my grip on the grass above my head and lower my hands as I turn away from the narrow strip of earth along the edge and I take a deep breath before jumping, dropping onto a rock that's lower than the others, flatter. I reach out as I plummet, grabbing onto one of the grey lumps that jut into the hole to keep my balance as my foot tries to slip.
The rock I landed on is still grey, but it's covered with silky green that makes it difficult to stand, or it would in normal shoes, but my shoes are made for this! They have just enough grip that I don't slip completely.
A grin and then a careful step forward, constantly grabbing the rocks that line the way as I slowly descend to the last rock, where I grin and cheer, sitting down and listening to the rushing of water over rocks.
Whoever said that listening to rivers is relaxing clearly hasn't been here.
Now that I'm closer to the water I can practically smell it, fresh, not like the water in the sea or the pool, this is how water should be, not polluted by chemicals or salt.
Then I push myself off the rock and into the water all in one motion, shrieking as the icy liquid swirls around me, pushing me forward gently.
I stumble forward before straightening and finding control of my legs again.
I slowly wade out into the river, my eyes angled down, watching as the stunningly clear water swallows me up until I surge forward and down into the water, head ducking under, my eyes going blurry as I look around me at the smaller rocks that line the ground.
With the water distorting it all it seems like another world, but all too soon I have to surface, gasping and spluttering for breath in the cold shade.
Most of the water is protected from the sun, there are tall trees that somehow haven't been dragged off, sheltering it, the occasional leave dropping down into the water only to be whisked away, being pushed under only to surface when it reaches the rapids, a flash of green against the white before it disappears for good.

reading

I read too many books to give one recommendation, I mean, there's 1984, which really makes you think.
Then there are the books that I've loved since I was little, and the characters who've grown up with me, like Percy Jackson, that captured my imagination and made me smile.
Then there are the Old Kingdom Trilogy, basically just read.

Oops!

I sat, feet curled under me, in the corner. My arms were draped over the velour orange fabric of the sofa either side of me.
The TV quiet, droning on in the background,my grandparents voices slightly louder as they talked and I read.
My Nan was sat in her dark green chair, which was situated in the opposite corner to me in front of the sofa, which was too low for her to sit on these days, even with extra cushions.
She occasionally took sips from the small china cup, which had pretty flowers painted onto it. She'd then place it back down onto the dark brown wooden table, a square, which I knew from experience, (My head meeting one of them) had very sharp corners.
My Granddad was stood in the cramped kitchen areas, washing up from a delicious lamb roast dinner.
I looked up from my book when he tucked the plates into the cupboard above his head and tucked the tea towel over the small radiator that just fitted into the corner of the kitchen.
He strode into the living room and stood directly in front of the TV, stretching up to open the cupboard above it, which contained all of their medical things, pills, plasters, anything that they could need in an emergency.
Of course I was never allowed into it.
He reached his hand in and eventually pulled it back out holding a small bottle in his hands, examining it for a moment, a small frown on his lips as he glanced back to my Nan and asked "Did Katie leave some Gaviscon here last time she came? The bottle's smaller than the ones we usually have."
My Nan simply shrugged in response, "How should I know? I'm sure she wouldn't mind you having some if she did."
My Granddad turned it over in his hands once more before nodding decisively and walking the short distance back to the sink and extracting a spoon from the drawer.
I watched him unscrew the bottle and but the lid down on the side before he carefully started to pour the thick gooey looking liquid onto the spoon before once more losing interest and turning back to my book, focusing on the story once more.
Only seconds later, before I even had the chance to turn another page, my attention was jerked back to him when he let out a disgusting retching sound and choked out, "You silly bastard!" loud enough that I'm still sure that everyone outside would have easily heard it.
He repeated it over and over as he spat into the sink, his face twisted into a grimace.
I stared in a shocked silence, frozen, book gripped loosely in my hands as my Nan glared at him, her eyes narrowed.
"What the hell is wrong Vic? she demanded, voice shaking slightly.
At that his mantra stopped, and after he rinsed his mouth out with a glass of cold water, he gave her an annoyed look, "It's bloody Calamine lotion!" as he thrust the bottle towards her.
My Nan went silent at that, staring at the small bottle, which clearly had a pink label on stating that it was, in fact, Calamine lotion and not Gaviscon.
For a moment there was a stunned silence in the room. Then I felt it, at first it was deep in my chest, trapped for just a moment. Despite my desperate, yet hopeless attempts to keep what was bubbling up inside locked away my efforts were in vain, and after a second that seemed to stretch on into eternity, the dam burst.
Giggles erupted from my lips and the book landed on the floor with a loud thud as I brought my hand up to cover my mouth.
With that the quiet broke and my Nan joined me in my amusement, both of us tumbling over the edge and roaring with laughter at his mistake.

Malibu Sunset

Malibu first,
Not too much
But not too little either
Carefully check the glasses

They should all have the same.

The carton of orange juice

is opened next

I pour the bright liquid

into the glasses, 

Measuring again.

Once that is done,

The carton closed,

I unscrew the Grenadine

Careful now.

It has to be dribbled

Down the side of the

Prettily curved glass,

Not just poured in the middle.

It has to sink to the bottom,
Not be mixed.

There it is, 

The Malibu Sunset.
Red then orange, 

such a pretty drink.

Almost a shame to drink it,

Using new glasses 

With pretty blue and purple stirrers

Not that it should be stirred

Take a sip,

The flavours mixing, 

blending together.

A perfect cocktail.

Birthday

The day was busy, filled with family and friends.
I remember waking up in the morning, my eyes flashing open as I smiled, my lips forming silent words.
I'd been excited for days, the sort of bubbly energy you'd expect from a five year old about their birthday, not a seventeen-now-eighteen year old.
I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to do my teeth, fully aware that my mum would be fast asleep, it was early, earlier than I'd ever dream of waking up on a Saturday for any other reason.
My dad was waiting for me when I come out, smiling and rolling his eyes as he hugged me and wished me a happy birthday, telling me to wake mum up, just for a bit.
I remember shaking her awake, her sleepy smile as my dad joined us, as he gave me my card, which I pulled out of it's box and hugged mum for, the glitter on the '18' coming off on my fingers. Next was my first present, champagne, the posh bottle suitable for a mature (or not) eighteen year old.
Then was the one I'd been waiting so anxiously for, the one I picked out and had sized so that it would be perfect.
The small dark blue ring box was so plain as I took it from my mum, grinning brightly as I carefully opened it and pulled out the ring.
The gold band shone brightly and the diamonds and rubys sparkled as I tilted it in my hand.
Then the moment of truth, after all it had been months since I had it sized, did it still fit?
I slowly straightened up my fingers, right hand, slipping it on carefully, snug between my middle and my little fingers, it fit.
I beamed, my face lighting up!
It fit!
I hugged my mum tightly before pulling back and staring at it. It was perfect, so beautiful that I felt like cheering.
I knew this birthday was going to be different, be perfect. No fights, no yelling, just family and friends, having a great day.