City of IF

[D-Lotus]

1


Green leaves rushing by. Green and even more green, speckled with brown dust and red and blue plants, lying on the floor of that strange jungle of thorns and soft patches of clean dirt. Strange noises rushing by. So many strange noises. Noises that didn’t belong to anything. Strange noises that came from nowhere. Noises in the jungle that whistled and chirped and howled all at once. And amid all the strangeness and intermingled cries, something even stranger than all other odd things came in sight. A woman, wrapped in a white shawl, running desperately from some unknown danger, that haunts her, pushing her to rush into thick brambles and step with her bare feet on the rotten, fallen tree trunks and the sharp stones and twigs in her interminable path. She wears a black skirt, which slopes down, reaching to clasp against her ankles. It is torn on all sides, and it hampers her. She wants to take it off, but she is too afraid, even in this moment of rush panic. The meticulous efforts of what is good and what is not good for her and anybody else, grinded mercilessly into her head by her inquisitors, were rewarded.
She was in wild despair, that woman, clutching something tightly, so tightly against her breast. Amid a whirl of wild hair and wild plants, that clung to the mantle in which it lay, was a baby. It is impossible to discern how long it had been in this world, but the baby had resolutely decided to cling onto his fragile mother as long as possible. Even in this grave moment, although unbeknownst to him, he yearns for food. He reaches over, trying to suckle, but his mother pays no attention, instead keeps running through small leafy-boughed trees and tall leafless one all at once. Her dark skin disappears between the rough bark of one particular tree. Its leaves and irregular branches reach down shadowing the earth below. Finally, the indigenous mother stops under this strange place, panting heavily, and slowly looks down at her babe with tears in her eyes.
She contemplates him for a few more seconds, then, she loosens her bright, white shirt, and let’s the infant suckle from her breast. After a while, she buttons her shirt again, and with a deep sigh, with her child curled up next to her, goes to sleep, under the moping tree.
Meanwhile, a traveler with a broken spirit shuffles through the path under the foliage. The dark, foreboding sky, littered with stars and other wonderful garbage, full of splendor and wonder, leads him through a wild road, with no markers but his own sense of direction. He wonders faintly if he shall ever make it out. He stops next to a patch of bamboo. Inspecting the ground minutely, he clears away a rotten stick with some grub crawling inside it. Finally, he sits down and rests against the uncomfortable bamboo. He shifts his light pack from his shoulder to the ground, only to uncomfortably change position again and again. At last, he decides to find a better spot to rest in, and picking everything up, renews his weary trudging, until, by miracle or accident, he glimpses on a fair tree with sloping branches and what appears to by soft earth.
The young mother heard the crunching of the leaves, smelled the fetid odor of the weary and nameless traveler, and hid among the high bushes that surrounded the angelical clearing. The traveler, not a young man anymore, but not a very old one, clears the few shrubs in his way, and finding a perfect spot to sleep in, occupies the place where the woman had been but a few seconds ago.
Taking some of his scarce supplies out of his smelly old pack, he begins chewing on some leaves. Too tired to build a fire, or gather roots and berries from the surroundings, he sleepily starts drowsing off. The indigenous woman watches him closely as she holds on to her infant. Finally, as he goes to sleep, she dares to approach him, and still with caution. Upon being so close to the man, she cannot but resist the urge to take a look at his deeply set face. A grizzled man, he was. Perhaps if it weren’t for what seemed to her an exceedingly kindly face, she would have stolen his pack and been gone forever, into the deep forest. Instead, she sat down next to him, and began to think. Taking an important decision concerning her child, she began tapping the man’s shoulder. He awoke, but instead of starting up, as she had expected him to, he opened his eyes slowly.
At last, he recuperated his full senses, and gave a start of astonishment, which soon gave way to curiosity, for the woman seemed harmless enough to him at the moment, and life had shown him that he was mostly right about people’s first impressions. She looked at him in the eye, as to further convey some unknown meaning. Then, patiently, she spoke. Take my child, she told him, take my child. But he didn’t understand. He asked her in his own language what it was she wanted. Carefully, she retrieved a pouch made out of some animal’s skin from under her shawl as the put the child down on the floor. She unrolled it, and laid its contents on the ground.
The man looked at the object, and then looked at her, trying to understand. She pushed the small round ball into his hand, and he took it. What do you want for this? He asked. Take my baby, she responded, and then picked the child from the ground, and laid it in the man’s arms.
Then he finally understood. But why? He asked. And then, the young mother, protector of her baby's hardships, sat against the gnarled trunk. She reached for the child one more time, and, tucking him in her arms, cradled him and sung to him. I am sorry I cannot do anything more, my child, she whispered to him, while closing her eyes in pain.
She returned the child to the man, and, with a deep sigh, and tears in her eyes, she leaned her head back against the tree with the sagging branches and left forever. The tree, rendering her tribute, seemed to moan in the travelers’ eyes, and bending down even further in the wind, it screeched as it lost another loved one. The traveler, frightened now by these apparitions, and with an infant in his arm, lowered the boy and nervously started collecting firewood to make fire, to which the body of the deceased woman he would soon add, letting her spirit flow free in the air, as the baby watched, unknowing of the unprecedented occurrences that had just happened for his sake only.
The dewy morning brought the traveler up, rays of light and sun filtering through the layers of trees who brought spots of shade and brief respite to the man. Watching the infant sleeping soundly, he decided to delay traveling until the child woke up. Briefly he touched the child with his coarse hands, but afraid to awaken him, he withdrew it and went in look of some more firewood, so he could make some broth, leaving the child there. As the man traveled deeper into the forest, searching for dry sticks, his pots and pans left behind for the moment, the animals made their way to they’re new discovery, the strange animal that was accompanied by the large man.
A few birds cawed in the morning light, and soon chirps and whistles followed, but the boy slept, undisturbed. Then came the monkey’s, screeching and jumping from tree limb to tree limb, occasionally stopping to observe the new animal. A panther came, but taking no notice of this new animal, it haughtily walked by. And then, slithering, crawling, and hissing, the snake made its way in between the grass to the young child, who was still half asleep.
Carefully, the viper snaked out its tongue and closed up to the strange new animal. As it tensed, ready for attack, the viper's curiosity grew. The snake’s tongue felt around the smooth baby skin, inspecting its new victim. The rough texture of his morbid companion woke the baby up. The snaked tensed once again, hissing. And when the infant heard this, he wailed for the first time. A wail of fear and courage. And in half of a second, the wail reached incredible proportions. It grew louder and louder, until it contaminated all the living things in the forest with its horror.
The traveler, with a bundle of sticks under his arm, was pierced by the wail, and dropped to the ground while covering his ears. The forest moved with the sound. The animals fled, all around him, leaving everything solitary. The trees rustled uneasily. The wind shuddered as it carried the heavy weight of the wail. For four seconds did this strange and terrible wail last, in which the traveler, a small way off, could not move, and sat there, covering his ears while frowning in pain. Then, as the noise receded into the depths of the forest, he ignored his throbbing head and ran to the clearing edge, crashing into thorny bushes and low branches. The traveler, brought there either by miracle of coincidence, witness what no other human being had.
Around the child, who lay silent in its blanket, were dozens of dead animals. Birds, monkeys, lizards, and two felines. They had dropped in a ring in around the boy, and it gave a strange sense of his power, as the bodies bowed to him. But most impressive, was the snake. It stood, petrified, disconcerted, about to attack, but about to slither away. The traveler waited in suspense, too afraid to move. He waited for six minutes, wondering if snakes had ears or not. But then he realized it wouldn’t matter. He had heard a sound that penetrated the soul, was beyond hearing.
He stood there a little bit longer, as he searched himself, and found that in that cry, there was not only destruction, but much, much more. So much more, it had changed the spirit of that cold, merciless viper. The traveler understood now his responsibility, his deep responsibility, and why the woman had given him the child. Then he remembered that he wasn’t any common traveler, pulled out his .35 caliber gun and shot the snake in the head, ending its indecision. He hurriedly left the scene, confused, without even touching the animals.
The next day, the traveler fashioned a series of leather straps that connected with each other, leaving certain holes, through which the baby could put his legs through. He tied it to his back and then inserted the baby in it. As he continued to travel north, he understood that civilization would never accept a child like this. From that moment on, the traveler understood that he could never return to the civilized world, at least not for a long time. A very long time. He understood that he had been picked, by miracle or coincidence, to be this child’s guardian forever. He longed to arrive at the forest edge after many days of traveling, and to find himself walking through one of the many border patrols along the settlements of that region.

“H’lo, Juan.”

“H’lo, ol’ fellow.”

“Have you been in the jungle all this time, chap?”

“Aye, it was a mighty incredible thing that happened to me there, too.”

“What’s that you carry in your back?”

“Some crazy 'dian woman gave a baby to me. You know what else
she gave me ?”

“What?”

He let the other see it. “Can you imagine that?”

“Where the hell did she get it, that’s what I wanna know!”

“I don’t know, but it’s mine now! Anyway, I played my part of the deal, got this son of a gun out of the jungle. You take care of him now. After what happened, I don’t think I want to see him again in my life.”

“What’d he do to scare you, ol’ fellow? Never seen anything scare you before!”

“Well, he….”

No.

That could never happen. They would take him to the furnace, or something even worse. He would have to stay.


2

Three days walked the converted man. Converted, by the voice of a child. His treasure, passed onto his hands, hung on his back, enduring the weary voyage. The man was trying to find a place to stay, and for a long time. It seemed to the man that it was of the most utter importance to find a place to rest and establish themselves quickly, or else they might suffer for it.
He walked, the infant on his back, weighing him down constantly, and yet he never even thought of leaving the baby there, merciless to hunger and wild animals, destined by fate. It never crossed his mind. Everyday was one of penance, as he struggled deeper and deeper into the wild parts of the forest to find food for himself, and now for another one. Boots of rough leather trudged day after day towards his goal, his yet to be found home. But soon, hunger wore into his soul, and hunger is a powerful enemy to fight.
It had been three weeks since he had left a civilized settlement, and one since he received the immense burden, for now it did not suffice to leave the jungle alive. Now, he needed to live in it. One night, as he sat in front of his fire, with the baby at his side, warming his cold hands, he saw a chance to once and for all satisfy his hunger. How was it, that in a forest full of animals, he could not find and kill one. Did they flee from him? Did they think he was crazy, marching around the forest for too long a time, something none of the other humans had done? Or was it the extra life he carried with him? Were the animals afraid of this strange new being? If so, did it mean that he should abandon him and leave the forest once and for all?

No.

It was nothing but his clumsiness. Although an explorer, who had tread many of the same forest paths to the point where he could recognize them by the markings on the rocks, he was not a hunter. The animals had sensed him a far way off. His smell, distinct among the plants and ferns for them, had warned them. He had not been cautious enough. They had all fled before he had arrived.
Yet now, as he sat down on a fallen log, warming himself, he felt something strange. As though he had been gifted with some strange sense, which allowed him to see things others couldn’t, he waited, struck by the strangeness, but nothing happened. And just when he was relaxing back into his seat, he heard the pounding of a heart. He looked around himself, then checked the baby, who had already proven a source of mystery. But it did not come from the baby. The noise stopped for a second, then resumed again. It was there. He could hear it.
And then, it seemed as though the bushes and the foliage parted in his eyes, and all the green and all the dark combined to form a clear image of an animal. A deer, alert, attentive to every sound and smell. It had stumbled upon the man, either by miracle or by coincidence, and stood quietly behind some trees, eating soft grass, occasionally lifting it’s head up, checking around. It was close, very close.
The man took one look at the baby in astonishment, then took his gun from his holster. He smelled, from ten yards away, the deer’s anxiety. The man pointed the gun, then carefully, pulled the trigger. Birds, perching on branches, unknown to human eyes, flew away in a hurry, scared by the loud noise. Just as the bullet was whizzing it’s way towards it’s target, the deer moved. The bullet grazed it’s head, wounding it, but not killing it.
In a split second, the deer had broken into a wild run, stumbling into trees and bushes. The man, turned into a hunter, grasped his gun harder, and without even doubting that the baby would be safe, as if some strange sixth sense had told him, slipped off into the forest.
A trail of blood and an occasional glimpse of the animal itself were all the clues given to the hunter in the mad race. Whenever he got close to the animal, the latter, sensing it, ran harder, spurring the hunter to increase his efforts, until both the hunter and the hunted traveled at a breakneck speed. The hunter, strangely perceiving shortcuts in the high and coupled trees that he had never perceived before, gained on the prey slowly. But this one, with it’s superior speed and grace, outraced the man, leaving him behind, then stumbling on a root, let the hunter catch up as the animal picked himself up and ran ahead again. It was as if the prey was playing a game with the hunter, always staying out of his reach, tantalizing him.
Tripping, stumbling, falling and jumping back up, ready to spring into a run, both fueled for their own reasons. The hunter by hunger, the prey by survival. The cold night air cut them sharply in their lungs, and the occasional thorns that hung from some trees scratched their faces. All the animals seemed to have stopped moving, to watch this strange spectacle. When the man had the upper hand on the deer, he lost it, and the two continued, running endlessly among the myriad of stars in the sky, who watched them curiously, sparkling in excitement.
Finally, as the foliage and thorny vines became denser, and the terrain harder to continue upon, the hunter, exhausted, began to give up. And then, when the forest seemed to be reaching it’s center, it stopped abruptly. The trees cleared, and in the middle of the forest, stood a huge valley, encumbered by equally giant trees, at least one hundred feet tall, which covered with their immense and spread out branches and leaves, any trace that the valley could exist from an above view.
The deer, finally giving up the fight, stumbled under one of the colossi and as if surrendering to them instead of the man, died. The man, still awestruck by the whole complexity and immensity of the place, which he had seemed to arrive at, by miracle or coincidence, could not move. Instead, the ex-hunter stood contemplating all around him. There were sufficient animals rounding the place, but not too many to be threatening, and they included a wide variety. Birds of all colors, rising beyond the leafy boughs, flying around with long tail feathers flowing in the wind, flashing colors into the shadowy valley below. Yellow, red, blue, and many others made up the sun and light for this mysterious place, even in the dark night. Squirrels and monkeys scrambled into, through, down and across the enormous trees, screeching loudly, chattering silently to each other. A sinewy snake of platinum plates covering it’s body slithered across the tall pale green grass, contrasting with the black curtain in the sky, untouched and now seen by humans for the first time. The whole spectacle was fascinating, and the man watched as the white furred rabbits burrowed themselves in their underground houses and the quiet mice roamed around, but amid all the teeming life in this small paradise, the most spectacular, the most incredible, were the huge trees.
Their spread out branches and thick leaves that connected with each other over huge distances, covered all the life underneath them like a protector covering his protectorate with his arms. The trees had no branches at all in the trunk, and only until they reached sixty feet up did the huge branches begin to start forming. The rest of the tree consisted of branches curling in and out of each other, then spreading out like strawberry vines. It seemed incredible that humans, with their helicopters, had not discovered this place, But it is possible that the trees, a strange mutation the man had never seen before, had blocked out all view of it. But how? How could so little amount of trees, spread out across the valley, be able to spread out that way and cover everything?
The immediate top of the tree seemed flat, and the leaves grew less dense there, spots of starlight shining through. It was the brief clarity from the sky that awakened the man from his dreamy spirit. He walked over to the dead animal he had forgotten about in his reverie and checked to see if it was really dead. It seemed the wound had finally gotten to it.
The man, making a brief note to himself as to where the animal lay dead, walked quickly around the valley. Then he suddenly remembered his ward. Although at the moment of excitement he had felt a complete reassurance that he would be fine, he felt it was time to go back to him. He stayed around for a couple more minutes in the valley as he memorized the way back and hid the deer carcass behind some heavy rocks in hope that the predators could not lift them and eat his game. Then, slowly, to better remember the way, he walked carefully and slowly back to the waiting fire, where he would curl up and sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

3

The next day, exhaustion took it’s demanding toll from the mercurial man. Mercurial, because he was able to change abilities and strengths in what seemed too soon for a natural human. He slept under the heavy cover of the trees-- the baby, sharing his sleep, next to him. It was strange how life had united these two individuals. The one had commenced a trip to explore, a trip to discover the world around him, and maybe to discover himself as well. Maybe it was that which had allowed him to quickly adhere to the small life he had carried on his back for many days. Perhaps it was that he had no family in the settlement he had set out from, and believed he had finally found somebody he could share his life with.
He had been an explorer all his life, ever since a child, looking for anything strange or unusual in his backyard. And now, he had finally found it, the icon that appealed to him, and the thing he had always been looking for, symbolized in a baby of barely a few months of age. Both of these unlucky figures had been through an immediate abandon in childhood, it seemed only fair that they had been united now. The lonesome explorer had been reared in one of the richest family’s of the backwater settlement, which had grown out of it’s name, and had achieved the status of a large town over time, thanks to the boost of trade and finance that had been supplied through the construction of a rail-way. The boy, adopted by his foster-parents, who raised him in distaste to his strange tastes, wanted him for what seemed only the benefit of having an heir to their vast fortune, which they would sacrifice all so as to that the government would not inherit it. His active mind and energetic but complex way of thinking mixed with a refusal to indulge in his father’s business matters or business relations resulted in an enigmatic personality that no one was ever quite able to understand, not even his few friends.
In this way grew the young explorer, amid reluctance from his foster-parents to understand him, resulting in a restless spirit, which took flight as soon as the opportunity presented itself. In this case, his delight at discovering things that he had been deprived of as a child blossomed into a passion, and he speedily decided to become an explorer, an explorer for the Union, in order to please his guardians enough so that they would finally let him go. He quickly rose in rank and in experience, with special thanks to some money his father sent to him. Many years, however, brought deception to his heart, as he discovered with bitterness the cruelty of human behavior and avarice, which had demoted him into a cast he could not seem to shake off, no matter how hard he tried. At last, tired and forlorn, he returned to his home town, without much hope of anything.
His foster-parents, long deceased, had left him all their fortune waiting for him at home. Now, with money on his side, and a clean and shaved face, he prepared to affront life again. Although he made some friends, as many will be always willing when there are gifts involved, he felt strange, walking absent-mindedly from place to place in a town he felt lost in. Finally, his voyager spirit took over, and he could stay no longer in the dead town. He decided to explore the forest around the settlement, or town, for very little people ever had. The reason that the forest seemed so intimidating was because of the way that the thorny bushes covered everything, scarring those who tried to go through unprepared, often ending their lives after a few weeks, as the small wounds drained slowly from the victims. This, combined with fatigue, was what had finally made the mother of the infant collapse, handing her treasure to an unknown stranger, desperate for the child to live.
The forest, however, had not been able to compete with man. With their powerful machines, they had made a pathway through the north-east of the forest, which then stretched down south. A pitiful road, it was barely traveled by any, most people opted for the much safer road through the plains, which, although it was possibly longer, and ran around the forest, was better paved, and vehicles frequented once in a while through it’s dusty hills. The road through the plains evaded the northern forest completely, and traveled down the fields until it reached the beginning of the southern forest and the Dark Belt, an unsurpassable belt of twisted and dark trees that extended for hundreds of miles, from the tip of the southern forest to the White River, therefore blocking an easier route to the next inhabited settlement, which, although signifying a waste of time and a wide loop around it, still made the route worthwhile.
It had been for that reason that the man had picked the northern route, simply to explore, to see if somebody had missed something. And yet, he had found something even greater that exceeded all expectations…if only he were to reveal his discoveries, it would gain him world wide acclaim. But he had pondered it enough, and he knew he would never achieve his dreams of splendor. Slowly, the man started opening his eyes, hope filling his heart once again.

4

It was to his calm reflection that the hunter finally woke to. The forest was unpredictable due to the chemicals that the government had sprayed over the sky in an attempt to save the country from the drought, chemicals which had a retardant effect, which had driven the Union more to despair, and consequently forcing them to drop more on the clouds, creating a large overdose, making this region one of the most weather-unstable region in the world. It was not strange, therefore, that as soon as the hunter awoke, he found himself staring into a big puddle. Exhausted, he had not noticed the large unnatural drops dropping on his back. The baby, covered in the man’s arms, had been fairly protected, and had not been able to warn him.
Hurried by the rain, he forced himself up, picked up the infant, searched around for his half ruined pack, salvaged it, and checking for everything else he could find, started heading towards the secret valley he had found the previous night. The harsh terrain he had been able to skip through easily before he went to sleep that night, slowed his progress down heavily in the morning. As he shuffled through the wet ground, dragging some rare plants he had found behind him, he realized he would have plenty of time to look for them again, so he dropped them hastily, and continued among dripping leaves through the route towards his perfect hiding place.
The rain by now was pouring, and the poor explorer had no option but cover the baby with the raincoat he had brought for the voyage. His hair, wet and hanging down, covered his face, and he struggled to get it out of his eyes as he held his pack over his shoulder, and the baby on his back. Finally, tired of sloshing through mud and clearing wet and clingy leaves from his clothes and face, he sat down in the middle of two trees that had been joined together at the trunk. Looking down at the baby, he confirmed that he was in a drowsy but healthy state. Seemingly all that was wrong with him was a small lack of food. Pangs of hunger banged inside the stomach walls of the poor man, reminding him about the dead deer, which had hopefully remained dry under the rocks. Again, he looked down, this time, his eyes caught on the face of the boy as he noticed something.

“Haven’t giva you a name, have I?”

He sat there, pensive, smiling as the baby began giving him a spreading smile. He looked up, and realized that the clouds had cleared, and the sun was shining through the foliage. He snapped his fingers together and spoke out loudly, as if he’d just had the best idea of his life.

“Sunclear!”

Gathering his things again, the man, with renewed strength, continued on through the forest towards the entrance of the strange valley, untrod by humans.

5


Walking he advanced
Through the lightening sky
A burden on his back danced

He walked on

Soon, everything began to clear
The trees spread out
The destination near

He walked on

At his calloused feet lay
A spectacular sight
Accentuated by day

The magnitude still awed
as the man watched a squirrel
On the tree still clawed

He walked on

With eyes burdened of lead
He spotted his old prey
behind the the rocks, dead

He stared up

The trees were dim
Their leaves bunched in green and red
The sky leaked in

He looked down

Miles of life looked out
amid small cleared hills
except for trees that “glory!” shout

He then explored

With a gentleness to roam
It didn’t take him long
to find a crag-filled home

It was a cave

6

A remarkably dry cave, at that. The man sat on a small boulder as he contemplated his new home. He smiled to himself. Inside it, he had hidden the baby behind a quickly constructed hut made of straw and grass. The front door was a deer skin, stretched out to meet the corners of the cave entrance with four small hooks he had carried with him. Piercing through the skins and then hooking themselves on the small holes he had carved into the tough stone with the help of a small pneumatic drill he carried in his pocket along with other small portable technology he used to collect samples of different things.
The knowing explorer had managed to collect some roots and berries to eat, which he had expertly crushed for the baby, and fed to him slowly. He himself had had only the same breakfast as the baby, and he began thinking of the deer, but decided to postpone his small expedition until later in the evening.

He sat outside a few minutes longer, a few yards away from the gravel slope that lead to the cave, sharpening his knife. Although he seemed absentminded, the explorer was very cautious. In his pack he compiled but his smallest necessities. It was in his rain coat that he carried most of his more advanced tools, hidden in a secret bag under the left inside pocket of his coat.
The valley had been a strange find. At first the trees had bordered the valley, then a cliff started to rise among them, and the normal forest trees began rising farther and farther up, until the view was blocked by the mid-morning sun. The cliffs were purely giant shards of slate, a strange material to rise from the earth, especially in these parts, but useful to make fire none the less, and the explorer had been done making questions of the unexplained. Now, he simply accepted all that happened as a course of a natural event.
The rugged cliffs had led to a beautiful waterfall, rising high above, and sprinkling water down as if it were a giant water spout, drawing it’s source from the very center of the earth. Small rainbows formed everywhere, as the giant trees from the valley let in sparks of sun vaguely or in only one spot, and illuminated the diminutive pond under the waterfall, which on contact with the unending stream of clear liquid above gave out billows of watery smoke before they evaporated and rose into the air.
The man had continued upon spotting the waterfall, and had soon found small protrusions in the ragged slate. Knowing this to being a sign of something, he continued walking along the side of the cliffs. After a few yards, the protrusions seemed to form a rough staircase which rose up into the cliffs and down again, disappearing mysteriously into the midst of the waterfall. Intrigued, the man took some steps toward the slate protrusions and rested the palm of his hand on them, feeling the warmth of the stone. Looking around him, as if he were afraid to be caught committing something mischievous, he reassured himself no one was looking, and building up speed from a few paces back, he jumped onto the first ledge of the ill-formed staircase.
The first ledge had been easy to jump on; it relied of ample space and sturdy composition, but as he continued jumping from ledge to ledge, the space became smaller, and the slate began to chip off as he thumped down on the rock. Pieces of slate stuck to his feet through the holes where his mocassins had worn out. He was barely a few meters up and fifty ledges more separated him from his goal. He looked down and immediately grabbed on to the rough surface of the cliff next to him. He was up high enough to die if he fell. But an adventurous feeling took hold of him, and leaping to the next ledge so as to not drop his pace, he quickly rose up and up, jumping without losing momentum, soaring over the rocks, a smile of exhilaration and triumph lighting his face as he heaved his weight through the wind and sucked air into his lungs enthusiastically. And suddenly he stopped, his strength dying out, legs giving way, head buzzing in confusion, just as he neared the end of the ascent. Just then, as he could contemplate the descent and the waterfall crashing from just a few yards above. Just then his calloused foot landed on a shard of up-turned slate. His foot jumped up and his ankle twisted around like a mad snake as he slipped and his knees fell outside of the small contour of the rock, followed by the rest of his body. He grabbed into the air and got ahold of the edge of the next step in the staircase. His hand faltered on the smooth edge, worn by the rumbling water of the nearby waterfall, and he tumbled, bumping on both stairs, bruising his limbs as he madly scrambled around in the air searching for salvation. And salvation he found, waiting for him nearby, as he suddenly stretched out his hands and feet, contracting his muscles, desperately trying to use all his energy in an attempt to survive. Suddenly his hands and feet met the sides of the two rocks, and shocked at the response, the man let his muscles go loose. Had he not tensed himself immediately, he would have been hurled down into the valley bellow.
And there he was, sustaining himself in between two rocks with his arms and legs, knees bent, neck straining, pressing with all his strength against the two sides, and suddenly he felt tired, very tired. His muscles began to slack slowly as he forced himself awake. His back facing down into the valley, he tried to dig his fingers into the slate, forgetting for a second what the hard material it was made of. But salvation was getting eager to meet him, and suddenly he felt his inner force spark inside him before dying out. Tensing his calf muscles and bending his knees further, the man-feline got ready for his pounce. It let it’s arms drop and exerting force on the first rock with it’s haunches, the man-feline, hungry for its prey, flew through the air, fangs bared, claws showing through the it’s fur. And then the man-feline’s back slammed into the rock. But it wasn’t enough. The man-feline was slipping, being dragged to oblivion, so it struggled, it twisted it’s back and it’s abdomen wildly, feet rising in the air, hands scratching at the surface of the rock, and finally, it succeeded. The danger was over, the man-feline was resting on it’s back on the rock, and it suddenly felt completely absorbed, and it rested there, exhausted.

7

Darkness clouded his vision, until a street light shone out of a corner of the street. He stepped forward, and the light followed him. The cobbled streets were decorated in a chessboard pattern; white, black, white, black. But the black is not really black, it’s dark blue, and the white isn’t really white, it’s grey. And then another light starts shining, on the other side of the street, but there’s no street light, it’s another kind of light. The man then walks toward the light, and from far away he can see that there is a cradle rocking back and then instead of rocking forth, it stops, leaning halfway. Then the man reaches the cradle, and he looks inside. There, inside the cradle, another man grins up at him. His teeth are chipped and yellow. The other man, the one outside the cradle, looks at the mirror in the cradle and brings his fingers up to touch his chipped teeth. The mirror smashes in pieces. The tilted cradle finally falls, scattering the pieces of glass across the floor. The man sees a reflection on each of the pieces of glass. Each reflection has a different view of a room, with only a plain bed and a big cross hanging on the wall. In the bed, sleeping, is a boy. Suddenly a man comes inside the room and shoots the boy. Blood tints the sheets. The man in the room turns around, looks at the other man who is looking through the broken pieces of glass. Both men bring their fingers up to touch their chipped teeth.

8

The man woke up feeling better. He knew he’d had a dream, but he couldn’t remember anything. He looked up at the bright sunshine filtering through the leaves of the giant trees and determined he hadn’t been sleeping long, only as much as twenty minutes. The man got up slowly. The steps ahead seemed to relax in a way, they seemed to be more lenient. They became bigger and the shards of slate seemed to disappear, unlike the ones scattered on the steps below. It was as if overcoming the last steps had been the climax of a strange passageway leading to an unknown ending point.
The descent was as indicated by the ample stoneway, easier on the age-matured man. As he continued down in the deep and disturbing descent into the heart of the waterfall, water started splashing down on him with more frequency and in more quantity. Finally, the man became drenched in water, and his clothes hung heavily to him. The water began to make the stones slippery as well, and the man’s descent became slower and forcible, as he carefully stepped down. At last, he reached the main stream of water showering down from the waterfall. Evaporated water filled the air, swirling around his face and body as he finally sunk his head through the onrushing and omnipotent shower of water. He looked inside. The last step gave way to a ledge that ran across the far wall of the hollow part of the waterfall. Below the ledge, the pond rippled with waves and the roaring sound of the water. There was no way to climb up from the pond, the wall was completely vertical, and it had nowhere to get a grip on. The man stepped into the ledge comfortably, and with an unconcious graceful movement.
The ledge led into a cave that looked like it had been carved into the wall of the cliff by a spoon. Suddenly the man grew wary. The staircase had seemed a natural geographic feature, but what if all of this, was man-made. What if there were already someone residing in the valley. It would make sense that this valley had been discovered before. Somehow he hadn’t thought about it when he was climbing the staircase, because the strange events of the other day had made him too trusting, too faithful in the baby’s supernatural powers which seemed to protect him from harm. The baby which he had left in his new home, assured of it’s safety, now became the victim of cannibal aborigines in the man’s mind. And as he stood there, shocked by his perilous discovery, the cave grew bigger and bigger, as well as ominous. The darkness inside it frightened him; he slowly paced back and became aware of a strange feeling. What if someone were behind him? He turned, finding nothing but the shower of water that was clouding his hearing with it’s loud rumbling. An unusual fear started gripping his heart as he turned around again and looked for a way out. He looked towards the staircase and felt a sense of tired spirit. Then he looked down, straight down into the lapping waves and rising watery smoke. Breathing in deep and closing his eyes in fear, he jumped off the ledge. As he rapidly neared the surface of the water below him, his mind turned to the baby again, his mind demanded him to turn to the baby, to close himself out to the impact. He landed with a splash, and sank down, but the water broke his descent and the pond was deep enough. In another split second, he was touching the bottom of the pond with his feet, and pushing up, the man broke out to the surface amid flying water droplets sprinkled with color and heavy breathings. Rapidly he swam towards shore, and picking himself up quickly from the ground, he ran towards the cave with heavy steps.

9

Who is Wyatt August? Why is Wyatt August? Where is Wyatt August?
Wyatt August chopped down angrily at the forest vines hanging down like snakes ready to bite. In his hand he held a well-sharpened machete with which he slashed constantly at anything in his way. Behind him, ten men wearing heavy packs grumbled and followed the path Wyatt August made through the haze of green forest jungle. Wyatt August took his safari hat off and wiped the sweat off his thinning hairline. He exhaled heavily as he stuck the machete into his crocodile skin belt. Wyatt August was in his early forties, and he dressed a heavy-lined beige shirt, ripped four times on his shoulder and chest. He gave the impression of an exploring scientist in the middle of a savannah, with his boots and short pants. But he was much more than that.
Who is Wyatt August? Why is Wyatt August?
Wyatt August isn’t a bad man, only a little mediocre. Wyatt August only obeys orders, but that is not all; in certain moments, Wyatt August is gripped by a sadistic and sickening feeling which makes him feel more powerful, a better man than the next, in fact, it makes him believe he is the strongest willed man alive, which accounts for his occasional stubborn and cruel tenacity.
Why is Wyatt August?
Wyatt August slashed through the vines. A small clearing took place in front of his eyes.

“Ok, men, you can stop here for a rest.”

The men wearily dropped the bags and sent aggravated looks toward the seeming expeditionary of the group, Wyatt August. To the ten men, Wyatt August was an antagonist, the worst. He drove them mercilessly through the jungle and punished them for small necessities they, and all human being’s, suffer. He had whipped one of his men only for dropping unconscious on the way. His men lived in constant terror. He treated them like slaves, and they were all white men. In the Union there were slaves, yes, but never white men, it had always been that way, white men seem to be the most elaborate but most cruel and selfish race known to man-kind. Wyatt August’s men were lately growing in rebelliousness. When he had hired them in town just two weeks ago, he had made them sign a contract. This seemed at the time a little abnormal to the mostly illegible men, especially since they had seen the man around town and knew his reputation, but the promise of money was too good to decline, and they signed anyway.
Wyatt August, meanwhile, searched around the clearing. Smelling, feeling, tracking, it didn’t take him long to find the two day-old remains of the fire, the same fire that a dying mother full of love had been consummated in after her death. The same fire which had created so much controversy for an aging explorer and now created a different feeling for an opposite man. Wyatt August smiled, his great white teeth shining in the mid-morning sun. Triumph. Triumph and a dawning feeling of completion, his life’s goal. It had surged suddenly, so very suddenly; Wyatt was only any man two weeks ago; a common, conceited, dreaming man, like any other. Dreams of wealth, glory and women clouded his vision and made him a bitter, cynic and lifeless man, for that is what happens to all those who expect too much of their genius and luck, it is fated to them. Of all those in search of fame, why do so few triumph? Wyatt August doesn’t know, and he doesn’t wonder, and that’s what makes him even more bitter, cynic and lifeless. Wyatt August then comes to the conclusion that all he has to do is wait, then someone will recognize his humble but astonishing talent.
Two weeks ago, his waiting , his twenty year wait, comes to a stop; from that moment to the actual, Wyatt August starts pursuing his dream. Wyatt August hadn’t always had this great dream of distant fame and fortune. As a little boy, he had lived in the country, abstracted from the world. His father was a tracker of animals, his mother indulged in hard labor at home. All little Wyatt’s dreams were concentrated on the irrefutable honest act of becoming an animal tracker like his father. And that he did. By twenty-two, he was one of the best trackers in the whole country, but he was also modest and hardworking.
Then came the visit to the city. His father was becoming an old man, and he had saved up money for his son to travel to the big city. The old man supposed that when his son landed among such strange creatures as the city dwellers, and their confusing ways, he would understand life as it is, the simple joy of it, and would return home to marry and have children; his father had done the same for him, and Wyatt would get the same chance. But instead of blinding him with knowledge of simplicity, it did the entire contrary.
He felt laughed at by the other youths he had made connections with in just over a month; wherever he went, his simple honesty entertained the other guests, who began to refer to him with cruel unwanted names. The young Wyatt resisted, he began to learn how to be ‘sophisticated’, but that is not something you can learn through books, only through indiscreet practice, and Wyatt felt frustrated. He became resented, at himself, at his parents, at everybody, he resented not being learned, and he resented being what he was. He did not know that all he needed to know was inside him, as it is for all humans. But Wyatt inscribed himself in a course of general knowledge to get back in society. Soon, Wyatt hungered for learning, and he shut himself in his room for hours on end, studying, trying to understand what the difference between him and the rest resided in, as if books could explain that.
Finally, Wyatt came out of his long recluse and metamorphosis. Now it was he that used ironic, laughing tones towards his friends, now it was he who treated them like insects, but it wasn’t him that called the attention, that he did only at first, when everyone was astonished at his change of manner. People started fleeing from him in repulsion. He thought they were inferior to him, nothing could stop him from glory again if he really wished for it. He became what he is now, a bitter, cynic and lifeless man, with vain, conceited dreams of glory.
But Wyatt was still a tracker. Regardless of his new personality, it’s what he knew how to do, and he had to return his expectations towards it. It was a challenge for him to return to his humble origins, but promise as a tracker surged in his enfevered mind, making the transfer easier. He installed himself in a town, Tribus Laudare, and waited for the chance of his life. Every morning he brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and readied everything for a high-ranked executive to pass by and give him a job. At first Wyatt would accept no small jobs from hunters, he claimed to be the very best tracker. They were not sufficient for him, but as he dwindled in the town founded by the Union in their failed attempt to civilize the forest in times when Latin names were popular, and children were called Augustus, or Victorius, he began slowly accepting the offers given to him.
Even after years, he maintained his composure and he kept brushing his teeth with neat simplicity, and finally, one day, a high-ranking executive did come by, and the job offered to him was the strangest he had ever been given, as was the astronomical amount of money. Wyatt August finally smiled for the first time in years, a grim, self-satisfied smile....



There was my best try at a story. Seriously. Oh, I know 20 pages is a lot to read, but it also took a lot of effort to write.

[saxon215]

christ almighty lad i'll ahve to read it later

[D-Lotus]

lol. I have two more pages coming too.

[Reiso]

Not bad at all. Some minor spelling and structure stuff, but nothing that further proofs wouldn't catch. It is a bit confusing with the perspective shifting from one character to another, but this doesn't happen frequently enough to make a big difference and is basically eclipsed by the quality and heart of the writing. I thought it was interesting how all of chapter 5 is more like prose than linear writing, it made for a good contrast and moved the story nicely. Good stuff, I read it all in one go.

[Shogun]

:shock:

[Shogun]

my God, thaTs the longest 1 chapter i have ever laid my eyes upon, not even books have that long of a chapter....

[D-Lotus]

Reiso wrote: Not bad at all. Some minor spelling and structure stuff, but nothing that further proofs wouldn't catch. It is a bit confusing with the perspective shifting from one character to another, but this doesn't happen frequently enough to make a big difference and is basically eclipsed by the quality and heart of the writing. I thought it was interesting how all of chapter 5 is more like prose than linear writing, it made for a good contrast and moved the story nicely. Good stuff, I read it all in one go.

Thanks Reiso, I really have been putting my all into it. My dad said the exact same thing about the confusing part. To me it seems all logical, but I assume that to some readers it doesn't, so I'll have to change the style a little (and give the man a name).

Shogun, I see you are a Naruto fan. Well, anyway, this is not only one chapter...it's 7. I know it seems a little overwhelming, but if you read it by parts it'll be easier. Also, I could make a summary if you really want me too.

[Shogun]

yes, a summary would be helpful

[D-Lotus]

Well, I'll write a summary for those who need it, but they must first read the first chapter, to get a taste of the story. If not, it wouldn't make much sense. I would rather that you read it, telling the story in summary wouldn't distinguish it, it would be like any other. I know that when I read Reisos summary of one of his chapters, it wasn't nearly as satisfying as reading the chapter.

[Reiso]

Shogun wrote: my God, thaTs the longest 1 chapter i have ever laid my eyes upon, not even books have that long of a chapter....

Not that I am mercilessly pimping the story or anything, but that is only because you probably haven't read Thorns and Steel, which there is an oh so convenient link to in my sig.

As D has already hinted at and will surely agree with, the chapters are quite lengthy.

:D

[D-Lotus]

There was once a guy who tried to read Reisos story all at once without protective eye-wear. We buried him the next day.... :shock:

[Shogun]

Okay i finnaly read the whole stry, now you can put up the summary

[ethereal_fauna]

As usual D-Lotus I'm enjoying the story. Glad you decided to bring it here too. It's easier to comment on here than at your website. :lol:

[D-Lotus]

Shogun wrote: Okay i finnaly read the whole stry, now you can put up the summary

Wait, why do you want the summary if you already read it all?

Ethereal- thanks...all support is appreciated..oh, I'm so happy... :D By the way, why does this emoticon have a military hat on it?...isn't war supposed to be sad? Then why is he smiling...

Anyway, everyday I try to keep it constant and write at least a paragraph...

[saxon215]

just read ye first chap D and i found it quite intriuging im sure it will be yet another of your wonderfull work of wonder
what about tobias stumps stories theres one thats rather masisve

[D-Lotus]

Glad you're interested, sax. For the moment I'm having problems myself understanding where I'm going with these symbolic things etc... I thought I knew, but now I question it. Well, don't worry guys, I'll figure it out.

[saxon215]

lol perhaps you only understood after a certain amount of hookah

[D-Lotus]

Don't worry guys, the hookah seemed to give me a good idea.

[saxon215]

just finished chapter two, nice one mate its good reading

[Shogun]

:shock:

[saxon215]

why do you look so surprised

[Shogun]

Eh, just pressed anything

[saxon215]

and they say i make short posts

[D-Lotus]

Maybe I should try this hookah more often...it gives ideas...

:P


(just pressing random things...this is also addicting...)

[saxon215]

now that is such a good idea i think ill join you because maybe that will give me some fresh ideas for mits

[D-Lotus]

Yes, or I could join you at your place...* looks at sax's location* oh wait, never mind, I'll pass. Anyway, I'm tired of listening to Melendi and Alejandro Sanz, etc...and it's late, so I'm going to bed....

[saxon215]

lol adious amigo

[Smee]

Good writing Dani,

As Reiso mentioned, some draft reading to do, but otherwise it's very good.

The ending was a little confusing - perhaps a strange place to pause, but it makes me want to know what happens next so I guess it's successful.

Happy Writing. :-)

[saxon215]

lol, "dani", lol

[D-Lotus]

Smee wrote: Good writing Dani,

As Reiso mentioned, some draft reading to do, but otherwise it's very good.

The ending was a little confusing - perhaps a strange place to pause, but it makes me want to know what happens next so I guess it's successful.

Happy Writing. :-)

Well, after all the exercise he did to get back on the rock, he fell asleep for only about twenty minutes. But that's in the next chapter I already wrote, I shouldn't be saying anything....

EDIT: Oh, I see what you mean, Smee. The ending is actually a dream, and I don't expect anybody to understand it YET. All the things he sees in the dreams will be happenning somehow.

[Reiso]

Oh, it's a dream... now I get it. I can totally see it now that you pointed it out, but earlier I had assumed it was just a passage of time and all that stuff at the end really happened, which made a shocker of an ending... or outcome for the baby anyway, as you plan on continuing it. But as a dream, it makes a lot more sense.

[D-Lotus]

lol, sorry, I should have posted the next chapter to clarify. I guess I will soon.

[saxon215]

chaps 3 4 and 5 were good i will mow through 6 and 7 later today

[Smee]

LOL - glad to see I wasn't the only confused one...

*wanders off muttering 'it's a dream' to himself.* :D

[saxon215]

so every time we get confused its a dream right?
poh this makes life alot easier

[D-Lotus]

Ok, maybe I should wait for more people...but as soon as sax finishes chapters 6 and 7...I'll post the rest.

[D-Lotus]

Key Wrote:

I do like it. Thanks for giving me the heads-up. It's very well-written, a nice sense of atmosphere.

I don't have any special advice, other than to keep writing. If you're looking for criticism, there are a few typos and non-words - "inquisitionists" should be "inquisitors," "it's" should be "its" in several places, "dissapears" should be "disappears," "torwards" should be "towards," "inmense" should be "immense," etc. But these are not important. The most important thing is to evoke an effect, which you did quite well.

Had to include this comment along with the rest, so I won't forget his piece. Ok, one thing, does it bother you guys when you;re reading when I misspell things? I mean is it distracting, or does it give you a more disrespective view for the rest of the story? Because I guess I could do a spellcheck, but it takes sooooooooo long.

[Smee]

You know what we are going to say. :P

Yes it is distracting, and slows down the reading, which is a big thing when you've written alot - you don't want people giving up half way through.

But of course, as Key's comment mentioned, we'd rather have the writing with spelling problems than not at all so only worry about it if you want to.

Happy Writing. :-)

[ethereal_fauna]

I agree with Smee. Errors are a large distraction for me, but not insurmountable. You don't make so many mistakes that I feel like abandoning the effort of reading. What you write is interesting and usually done well.

[saxon215]

spelling errors? i dont notice them ;)