I feel the lump in my throat wanting to burst from its prison. My feet are clay embedded in the fresh soil. My face bursts with sweat, the salty water streaming down my cheeks.
"Not seen 'ya around here before."
I feel the cold metal release from my flesh. My frame slumps as I come to rest fully against the wall, my back becoming my support. The darkness does not hide my fear as my eyes pierce the night to find my captor. I feel the warmth of the wall, the captured light now radiating back into the clear night.
"I am sorry, sir. I meant no harm." The rod against my neck now comes to rest against the ground; a fork I now see; a farmer's tool.
"Where are 'ya from?" His voice I hear is low, deep and firm; a confident tone.
"I am from the north end of the Chrystum. My name is Clancy." The rock held within my throat begins to lessen and I feel the strength returning to my limbs. He steps back and examines me as I lean against his wall.
"What are you doin' round these parts?"
"I am simply on an adventure, sir."
"Adventure? Ain't no adventure round here," he replies." His hand shifts to his head as he adjusts his brimmed hat, pulling it backward slightly. The gathering darkness reveals little of his features. I can tell though, he is someone of experience. "I'm fixin' to eat supper. You are welcome," he says, "if'n you haven't eaten."
"I would be much obliged, sir. Thank you."
My legs shake briefly as I feel a tremendous sense of relief. I smile, though in the darkness I don't know if my benefactor notices. Within moments I am standing before the entrance to his humble home. The door faces east, toward the rising sun, simple, no opening to view in or out; no embellishments of any sort. He stomps his feet on the planks of the porch to release the mud caked to his boots. I do the same. It is as a signal as I hear the metal latch on the inside drop and the door swings open easily, not even a squeak from the hinges burrowed into the weathered frame.
The light within embraces us as I am am instantly touched with warmth. Before me stands his bride, a gentle smile wide across her comely face. Without a word, I feel welcomed.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
A wall
What stands before me this night is unexpected, yet I feel the rails upon which my arms reside. They are real, tangible. I peer toward the cottage that lurks in the night, it's subtle glow homey from the fires that reside within. I can almost feel the warmth from its hearth upon my skin which is now kissed only by the cool night airs. The shroud that envelopes the night gives way to this amber glow.
The wood skims my back as I slide beneath the upper rail and take a first step toward this mirage. It shimmers in the night airs as a palm beneath the desert sun. Could this be some magic that reaches north from the wastelands themselves? What trickery plays upon my eyes? Yet, I know it has substance as the wispy trail that lingers above tickles my nose. My nose also tells me the hearth doubles as a cooking fire. The aroma is feint but it stirs my hunger. Lunch is long since past and my legs are weary.
The distance to the nearest wall is but a short walk. The grounds are flat with seemingly little fanfare. A practical caretaker it would seem inhabits this house on the edge of nowhere. A clank echoes from within; life. I become the night itself as I sneak to the outer wall and press my ear against the clapboard. The echoes from within set my thoughts in motion. My mind's eye sees what my ear takes in. My host works diligently as plates and utensils clank and knock against table and kettle. My stomach growls at the thought alone.
"I wouldn't move, if'n I were you."
The implement that now presses against the side of my neck pins me to the walls. I inhale sharply as fear clamps my feet to the earth. I have been discovered!
The wood skims my back as I slide beneath the upper rail and take a first step toward this mirage. It shimmers in the night airs as a palm beneath the desert sun. Could this be some magic that reaches north from the wastelands themselves? What trickery plays upon my eyes? Yet, I know it has substance as the wispy trail that lingers above tickles my nose. My nose also tells me the hearth doubles as a cooking fire. The aroma is feint but it stirs my hunger. Lunch is long since past and my legs are weary.
The distance to the nearest wall is but a short walk. The grounds are flat with seemingly little fanfare. A practical caretaker it would seem inhabits this house on the edge of nowhere. A clank echoes from within; life. I become the night itself as I sneak to the outer wall and press my ear against the clapboard. The echoes from within set my thoughts in motion. My mind's eye sees what my ear takes in. My host works diligently as plates and utensils clank and knock against table and kettle. My stomach growls at the thought alone.
"I wouldn't move, if'n I were you."
The implement that now presses against the side of my neck pins me to the walls. I inhale sharply as fear clamps my feet to the earth. I have been discovered!
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Where there's smoke
The day begins to draw late though the sun's light still dusts the tops of the Sirris, its lofty spires capturing the final gasps of twilight. The shadows lengthen though the warmth captured in the meadows of the Far Wilderness holds tight and I feel their caress upon my skin. Each day brings a panorama to these eyes as only the beauty of the Dream Valley rivals the vistas I have encountered.
As I turn my gaze to the south and away from the mountains and fields I spy a wisp of smoke trailing into the fading sky. Is this some sign of habitat or an errant wildfire? I watch as the smoke trails upward as from a chimney. No, this is not a wildfire. I find myself surprised, not only by the smoke but as much perhaps as the hint of someone ahead; someone unexpected. I stop and stare as the breeze washes over me from behind. I search the fields ahead but find nothing, the trail to the sky still some ways off. My pace quickens with anticipation as I have not spoken to anyone except Authurn since I left my protected valleys.
The next hour passes quickly in anticipation of what I will find ahead. The night settles at last as the day is lost behind the mountains and the shadows no longer lengthen but become the night itself. The fields of the wilderness fade as I feel tilled earth beneath my feet. It is a sign of a working farm. A farm in the middle of nowhere. The stars above wink into existence one by one as I see a soft orange glow from ahead, the only other light a sheltered beacon within the night.
My path is soon barred by post and rail as I stride headlong into a fence, a fence where none should be. The soft glow from the cottage moves and flickers as flames unseen dance within. I watch in silence as the warmth ahead beckons me, calls be from the chill of night, yet I have no invitation.
As I turn my gaze to the south and away from the mountains and fields I spy a wisp of smoke trailing into the fading sky. Is this some sign of habitat or an errant wildfire? I watch as the smoke trails upward as from a chimney. No, this is not a wildfire. I find myself surprised, not only by the smoke but as much perhaps as the hint of someone ahead; someone unexpected. I stop and stare as the breeze washes over me from behind. I search the fields ahead but find nothing, the trail to the sky still some ways off. My pace quickens with anticipation as I have not spoken to anyone except Authurn since I left my protected valleys.
The next hour passes quickly in anticipation of what I will find ahead. The night settles at last as the day is lost behind the mountains and the shadows no longer lengthen but become the night itself. The fields of the wilderness fade as I feel tilled earth beneath my feet. It is a sign of a working farm. A farm in the middle of nowhere. The stars above wink into existence one by one as I see a soft orange glow from ahead, the only other light a sheltered beacon within the night.
My path is soon barred by post and rail as I stride headlong into a fence, a fence where none should be. The soft glow from the cottage moves and flickers as flames unseen dance within. I watch in silence as the warmth ahead beckons me, calls be from the chill of night, yet I have no invitation.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Thoughts of memories
The day has remained fresh with a gentle breeze upon my face as I have trekked toward the southern end of the Sirris. The day has been uneventful as I pass beside the behemoths that block the horizon from the Chrystum. My walk has been easy as the meadows roll gently with only soft ground beneath my feet. It is a welcome path compared to the rocky hillsides and ambling creeks that had been my map to this point.
A twilight sky is settling quickly on this side of the mountains as the sun falls quickly to the west. I have seen little movement across the plain as I proceed. I find myself looking forward with both anticipation and trepidation to the end of this leg. Tales abound with legends of creatures and evil magics that inhabit the Great Southern Wastelands. Long ago it was laid bare. The tales of my youth tell of a great war that was fought between the men of the northern lands and those races that dwell far below the Chrystum.
Though I have only seen the Wastelands from the lofty heights of the Sirris, an ankle of the lower hills as the Dream Valley turns and runs toward the sea, my imagination is rampant. It has been many years since I tread the lower reaches but I can still see the vast rolling desert of sand as far as the eye can see. I remember how my eyes rebelled at the stark scenery, my vision obscured by a harsh glare that seemed to encompass all of the southern border. Would there have been a war, all traces I could imagine have been erased from the memory of the world.
Night settles in quickly as my meandering thoughts have kept all sense of passing time from me. This day escapes and night intrudes again. My stomach calls from its depths and reawakens my senses. Another day of rolling fields and stalks of wistful flowers shall greet me before the peaceful meadows of the Far Wilderness will be fully behind and a new trail opens before me.
A twilight sky is settling quickly on this side of the mountains as the sun falls quickly to the west. I have seen little movement across the plain as I proceed. I find myself looking forward with both anticipation and trepidation to the end of this leg. Tales abound with legends of creatures and evil magics that inhabit the Great Southern Wastelands. Long ago it was laid bare. The tales of my youth tell of a great war that was fought between the men of the northern lands and those races that dwell far below the Chrystum.
Though I have only seen the Wastelands from the lofty heights of the Sirris, an ankle of the lower hills as the Dream Valley turns and runs toward the sea, my imagination is rampant. It has been many years since I tread the lower reaches but I can still see the vast rolling desert of sand as far as the eye can see. I remember how my eyes rebelled at the stark scenery, my vision obscured by a harsh glare that seemed to encompass all of the southern border. Would there have been a war, all traces I could imagine have been erased from the memory of the world.
Night settles in quickly as my meandering thoughts have kept all sense of passing time from me. This day escapes and night intrudes again. My stomach calls from its depths and reawakens my senses. Another day of rolling fields and stalks of wistful flowers shall greet me before the peaceful meadows of the Far Wilderness will be fully behind and a new trail opens before me.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
The next horizon
The day before me shines within my soul as I take in the majesty of ocean before me as sun-split meadows travel from horizon to horizon. The new day brightens the fields as petals awaken beneath their master's hand. Colors I have not before breathed fill my eyes with their heady vibrance. It is a land without boundaries, a land the valleys of the Chrystum could not hold within.
I revel in the openness that I have not experienced within the confines of the Sirris. I let the day lapse as the east winds follow from the dawn. I have no timetable for this day other than the hollow sounds of my stomach. Here though I am at home as in the fields I plow. Here is where I will gather my lunch. Fields are fields and within them the same creatures will travel and I am a master at their removal, as is any farmer worth his salt. I will take my direction as the sun begins its downward arc.
The day begins to seal its fate as the light begins to fade, its warmth a degree cooler upon my face. It is the warmth that steals my heart as the mountain passes has sapped it from my soul, and with the thoughts of the Dream Valley in my mind I shall make my way south. These fields that give new hope to my journey spring as a well from the depths of the earth. The flanks of the Sirris shall be my guide as I follow in their wake to ends unknown.
The sun shall rise upon my left shoulder come the dawn.
I revel in the openness that I have not experienced within the confines of the Sirris. I let the day lapse as the east winds follow from the dawn. I have no timetable for this day other than the hollow sounds of my stomach. Here though I am at home as in the fields I plow. Here is where I will gather my lunch. Fields are fields and within them the same creatures will travel and I am a master at their removal, as is any farmer worth his salt. I will take my direction as the sun begins its downward arc.
The day begins to seal its fate as the light begins to fade, its warmth a degree cooler upon my face. It is the warmth that steals my heart as the mountain passes has sapped it from my soul, and with the thoughts of the Dream Valley in my mind I shall make my way south. These fields that give new hope to my journey spring as a well from the depths of the earth. The flanks of the Sirris shall be my guide as I follow in their wake to ends unknown.
The sun shall rise upon my left shoulder come the dawn.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Field of dreams
The sun lifts the curtain of night from the open plain and shines its light upon the golden reeds that fill the expanse before me. I turn and gaze upon the hills that have sheltered me these past days and feel their presence within my mind. I turn again and let the day reveal the bounty that the world holds firm within its grasp. The breath of the east bends the stalks that bow in undulating waves before me.
I leave my mountain retreat and wade into the vastness of goldenrod that fills my view. My feet sink into the softness of the fields and leave behind the rocky trails of the Sirris. I feel the pull of the soft earth upon my boots as I step, the reeds sparse enough to make my passage easy. My hands skim along the chaff and feel the sting of hollow reed as I caress a world of growth. I see the seeds of life that float above the bending sea like swarms of locust riding silent winds. I feel their caress upon my cheeks as I step toward the fading light of dawn.
I feel a newness, a fullness of life that the Sirris possesses not. Their hollow valleys that are bold yet confining are in stark contrast to the wistful peace of glowing fields beneath sun-split clouds. For every life that leaves us, a new life begins within us. My breath pulls from the fleeting breezes and fills my soul with purpose.
I look now to the four winds in search of direction. Where shall my next steps take me upon this journey?
I leave my mountain retreat and wade into the vastness of goldenrod that fills my view. My feet sink into the softness of the fields and leave behind the rocky trails of the Sirris. I feel the pull of the soft earth upon my boots as I step, the reeds sparse enough to make my passage easy. My hands skim along the chaff and feel the sting of hollow reed as I caress a world of growth. I see the seeds of life that float above the bending sea like swarms of locust riding silent winds. I feel their caress upon my cheeks as I step toward the fading light of dawn.
I feel a newness, a fullness of life that the Sirris possesses not. Their hollow valleys that are bold yet confining are in stark contrast to the wistful peace of glowing fields beneath sun-split clouds. For every life that leaves us, a new life begins within us. My breath pulls from the fleeting breezes and fills my soul with purpose.
I look now to the four winds in search of direction. Where shall my next steps take me upon this journey?
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
A vastness of wonder
The breaking dawn lights the darkness as I witness the flames of day chasing the terminus from its lofty perch. My time in these hills has come to an end and their closeness I have come to know, come to relish. The valleys that were my home coddled me in their richness; a splendor that had come to dull the senses. That I have spent these days in a vacuum of companionship save for my contact with Authurn is an achievement of consequence. I have relied on myself for conversation and fellowship.
At last I sit at the edge of my confines, my mind seething with the possibilities of the dawn. The light hovers just below the horizon as it streaks its power across the desert of night. The horizon begins to glow as my eyes begin to transition from the night, the stars that were my curtain beginning to give way. I peer from the depths, the edge of the last valley, the last of the Sirris that has held my hand upon this journey.
The day bursts upon the world as there is nothing save the horizon to hold back the morning. The lands before me are as wide as an ocean, the openness nearly more than my eyes can take it. The grasses bow beneath a gentle breeze as it runs freely across the plain, the tops of the feathered stalks rolling as ripples across a waterless sea. A vastness such as this have I never seen before.
A new horizon I have before me beckons. Where shall this course take me? What trails will I find within its vastness? Perhaps the dawn shall light my way.
At last I sit at the edge of my confines, my mind seething with the possibilities of the dawn. The light hovers just below the horizon as it streaks its power across the desert of night. The horizon begins to glow as my eyes begin to transition from the night, the stars that were my curtain beginning to give way. I peer from the depths, the edge of the last valley, the last of the Sirris that has held my hand upon this journey.
The day bursts upon the world as there is nothing save the horizon to hold back the morning. The lands before me are as wide as an ocean, the openness nearly more than my eyes can take it. The grasses bow beneath a gentle breeze as it runs freely across the plain, the tops of the feathered stalks rolling as ripples across a waterless sea. A vastness such as this have I never seen before.
A new horizon I have before me beckons. Where shall this course take me? What trails will I find within its vastness? Perhaps the dawn shall light my way.
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