In class, we wrote an ending to the story Thirst by Paul Mason. This was my ending and I tried to convey the emotions Ryder and his dad were feeling. Toodles.
Ryder ran deeper into the forest, his father’s furious voice echoing through the dead branches. Dusk drew closer and birds cawed in the distance. Ryder stopped, his chest heaving heavily while his lungs gasped for air. He didn’t regret stealing the water. His sister was able to shower and he was able to quench his sickening thirst. Ryder hooked his hand onto a branch and lifted himself up. The more he climbed, the more tranquil the world went. Reaching the top, Ryder looked out onto the horizon and saw the sun tuck itself away. His clothes were no longer dirty and his lips were no longer dry. He had a feeling in him he hadn’t felt in a while. Serenity. He loved it.
Dad stalked through the forest as the last ray of sunshine retreated. “Ryder,” he shouts, his voice rumbling through the deserted forest. The branches crunched under dad’s heavy stomps while his hands were fisted at his sides. Dad’s patience grew thinner. “Ryder,” he shouted again. My son, a thief he thought. How could this happen? Dad knew that water was scarce. He blamed it on himself. How could he let his family come to this? Struggling to live, getting by just barely. Thieving. He knew that in desperate times came desperate measures, but he was supposed to care for his family and make sure they didn’t come to this. He had failed them. His shoulders slumped in dejection and his hands fell loose at his sides. “Ryder,” he mumbled weakly. His son had been brave enough to do what he hadn’t been able to. Dad needed to tell him that.
Ryder listened closely from above. The crunch of parched leaves started to near. His dad was coming. What would he say? Would he be disappointed in him? Ryder didn’t know. “Ryder,” his dad called weakly. “Please come out son,” he said. Ryder heard the defeat in his voice. He hopped down the tree branches and landed in front of his dad. He saw that his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were shadowed with sorrow. “Yes dad,” Ryder answered. His father looked up at him. “I’m proud of you son,” he whispered.
Out of all the scenarios Ryder had thought of, he had never thought that his dad would be proud. He was expecting a scolding and discipline, but not pride. “You did what you needed to. You helped out when I had failed and for that, I’m proud of you.” Ryder’s eyes widened. He heard defeat and the feeling of failure in his father's voice. “You didn’t fail us, dad,” Ryder comforted in a soft voice. “Even though our water was depleting, you’ve done more for our family than you think.” His dad looked at his son with surprise and hope. Hope that what his son was saying was true. “You give us a roof over our heads, a bed to sleep in, clothes to wear and food to eat!” Ryder reassured. He saw a smile start to form on his father's face. “You’re amazing, dad,” Ryder finished off. A full-blown smile appeared on his dad’s face and he saw that twinkle of happiness in his eyes he hadn’t seen in a while. “Thank you, son,” his father replied. “Thank you for providing when I couldn’t.”
Ryder started to think he had gotten away with it. Then, his father knocked those hopes out of the park. “But, that doesn’t mean you can steal,” he scolded. “I know dad,” Ryder replied. “This is the first and last time you will steal water. This is the last time you will need to steal water.” Ryder’s hopes started to soar. “Your mother and I just got a job promotion. This job pays a lot more than the last one and we’ll never have to worry about water again.” Now they were both grinning like fools. Ryder didn’t have to fret anymore. They were going to be okay. “Let’s go home now son,” his father said as he started to walk home. Ryder trailed after him, excitement coursing through him for what was to come.
