My english teacher is slow asf, and doesn't have time to read and review my creative piece. I'm doing "Connection to Country" and my title for the piece is "Carrying Country"
It was damp, quaint and desolate; the air heavy with moisture, with the impending storm pressing heavily against him. The ground beneath his feet appeared cold and malignant, each step squelching in the thick mud that conspired to slow his advance. With each gust of wind that whipped around him, he buried his head deeper into the thick, woollen embrace of his coat. His hands tightened around the straps of his backpack, the worn fabric darkened by rain. It held the few things he had chosen to carry across the world, containing objects that would anchor him here. He hoped that they might make this distant place feel like home after the long journey behind him. Yet with every step forward, it was not the bag that grounded him, but the country itself, clinging to him in mud and moisture, settling into him whether he willed it or not. Far ahead, the church in the village of Arbington sat encased in the thick hug of the surrounding forest. Despite the ominous clouds gathering overhead, the light managed to slip through, casting a warm glow on the stained-glass that beckoned him closer.
As he marched forward, the echoes of thunder grew louder and more dissonant. The melodies intertwined with the wind, weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the void of solitude around him. When he approached the wooden doors, they were slightly ajar, allowing light from inside to spill out onto the church's steps. Leaning in, he scanned the interior as weeds tore through the fractures in the wallpaper, transforming it into a thin, green-streaked ribbon of grey. A heavy gust of wind slammed the doors shut, causing Edward’s breath to catch in his throat.
The doors slowly creaked open, revealing a man of short stature. He wore a long black coat that appeared to swallow him whole, and he bore a smile that seemed disconnected from his eyes. As Edward studied his face, there was no warmth in the grin - only a fixed curve, the glassiness of his eyes, and most notably, how peculiarly the light reflected off his skin.
The silence lay heavy in the air; neither one of the two men dared to speak. Instead, the man ushered him inside quickly. Edward stepped cautiously into the dimly lit interior, trailing closely behind the man, a faint tremor tightening through his hands as his breath caught and his shoulders crept upward under the cold’s bite. The creaking door swung shut behind them, muffling the howling wind and enveloping them in warmth. The exterior scenery transformed; the sky had turned sinister and dark, casting a shadow over the surroundings. Clouds churned overhead, thick and restless. The man stared back, his gaze fixed and unblinking, hard as polished glass.
Edward stood awkwardly, his eyes drawn back to the walls, hoping his thoughts would drown out the piercing stares. The closer he looked, the more it looked as if the surrounding forest was not merely reclaiming the building, but binding it - roots threading through plaster like veins. He shook his head slightly to loosen the hold of the thought. A strange, heavy hand rested upon his shoulder. The man stood close behind him, his eyes fixed on Edward’s with an intensity that felt less like observation and more like recognition. There was no warmth in them, only a still, knowing weight. He held himself with the same slight hunch Edward felt in his own shoulders, his hands buried deep within his coat as though warding off the same cold.
The hand dug into his shoulder now, unyielding. Edward, unsure of what to do, shifted his weight slightly. The man did the same, almost instinctively. As Edward raised his hand to adjust his collar, the man intuitively mirrored the action; tension rose heavily in the air, and an earthy scent of damp bark and rich soil seeped inside. Light from the stained glass bent across the man’s face, and for a moment Edward saw it fully - not just his likeness, but his inheritance. The same features worn by the same country. The same quiet endurance etched by weather, by distance, by belonging.
Edward stepped back, and the man followed - no longer imitation, but inevitability. He tried to speak, but the man was unable to. Edward felt the country outside pressing closer, as if listening through the walls, as if waiting for him to understand. This was not another man; this was what remained when someone did not leave. A version of him shaped entirely by staying.
The storm outside shifted, the humid, heavy blanket of air suddenly lifted, replaced by a breeze that smelled faintly of metallic rain. Edward turned toward the door. The man did not follow, but he did not disappear either - he simply remained, as though held there by something deeper than choice, folded into the bones of the church, into the roots outside, into the slow, enduring weight of the country itself. Edward paused at the threshold. The countryside beyond was still wet, still heavy, still endless; fields blurred into hedgerows, hedgerows into forest, forest into sky. It did not feel like something he was entering. It felt like something that had already been part of him before he arrived.
As he stepped out, the air closed around him, damp and familiar. The mud pulled at his boots with the same quiet insistence as before. Each step felt less like a departure and more like a continuation, as though the land was not letting him go because it had never let him in - it had simply always included him. Behind him, the church stood silent again, the figure within no longer separate from it, no longer separate from the forest that pressed against its facade. Edward did not look back.
He understood, in a way that did not need language, that the country did not only surround him. It shaped him, held versions of him, kept what it had already made. As he trudged onwards through the wet fields and rising light, he realised he had not left anything behind at all. He was still carrying it - the country, in its weight, its silence, its endless connection between land and those who pass through it.