Wherever I go

It is unknown how the globe as we now know it came to be, but one myth that has gained popularity in recent years i will include here.

The people’s whom i have travelled among consider the world to be inhabited by various spirits of people and things which came before us, though i have yet to see any such evidence written in the bones of the earth. My own senses can be easily fooled by various herbs and smokes which i have imbibed in at various time.

In any case, this myth seems to be the closest related to the view of the world as it is from both ground level and from the air, looking out from the wings of airborne craft and animal transport.

-- Report by Augustus de Marquis

The Emergence of Canthon:

An eon ago, the darkness existed as a form of its own. Things unseen and unseeable writhed and cavorted within.

One instant there was nothing, and the next an enormous thunderclap broke apart the morass, Revealed in the new space sat a lump of rock-clay. Something had been created, but it was without form, or function. The cataclysm broke the cloudy masses hold, the edges fleeing from the new form.

As it receded, those beings which had been passing nearby were revealed, and caught as a thought. emerging from pure thought, they began to form complex shapes as they were drawn towards the shapeless mass in the void.

They glowed from within, containing unknowably powerful energies, throwing light onto the surface of the moldable ball before them. They congregated around the surface, joined by more and more beings revealed by the retreating edge of roiling possibilites.

The first of them touched the surface, and dived deep within, shedding some of its energy into the material around. Once the dam was broken, others joined in, mixing their energies with the raw material, and with the energies of the other around them.

Cavorting like eels in the reef, they shaped the shapeless rock-clay into a lumpy ball with their antics. Eventually, ages passed, and those who were bored drifted away to find other places to discover and play with.

Those who remained began to ossify, their energies slowing as their patterns solidified into new materials. Rock and earth began to coat the outer surface of the world, the energies dimming until the beginnings of life began to emerge. 

First, the animals in the water, the simplest beings, harnessed the energies of the deepest seas, and brought life out of the cracks in the earth.

Then they emerged from the surface of the seas, where a nearby sun showed them there was more than the deep dark.

Land animals began to live near the edges of the water, eventually joined by larger and faster animals who lived only on land.

Then, the Wunbi began to arrive. Living among the animals and birds, our ancestors began to understand the ebb and flow of the seasons and with it the energies around them.

Reading the spiritual energies coming from the earth, and contained within the animals and plants, they learned of what could and couldn’t be eaten.

What could and couldn’t be grown and harvested.

Their shamans learnt to predict things from the movement of the wind and clouds, and looked for advice from the environment around them.

Our ancestors began to spread across the land, some staying behind, maintaining the ancestral sites, while others looked for new experiences.

Now, the Wunbi live in the forests, and the mountains, and the plains. Others have made their homes on the very seas themselves, travelling where wind and sea take them.

We make our lives from the plains, and the earth provides, as long as we listen to the portents and omens which have kept the world in bounty for so long.

So listen, young ones, to the earth, the animals and the plants.

Listen well, and you will never be lost or hungry.

Let the ancestors teach you the ways of Caanti, so that you may live and prosper here.

Blurring of buildings ebbed and flowed between red lights. Barely noticing the routine blips of signs and signals, the driver matched the ebb and flow of the tide of maches and man around him.

Left with his mind free to wander, up to a limit, the memories of old wounds battered at the walls he’d long since erected against them. unfortunately, the route out of the city had not changed in the many years since it had begun, removing the opportunity for distraction with new and exciting roads and sights to see.

The moons light floated down from the sky, beaten back by the harsh lighting of a bury unsleeping city. Once the roads widened and the streetlights separated further and further, the moonlight would drape itself quietly over the shrubbery and squat housing of the suburbs.

Passing the first set of traffic hurdles, the driver wafted along on a wind of reflection. feet and hands working in unconscious concert to guide him along the well worn paths of heavy traffic lanes.

The firmest, harshest memory was always his love, He’d had so little time to savour the threads they’d woven together in the moonlight, separating before the dawn to return to their workplaces. Then he’d been taken away forever.

Little wonder thoughts of him cropped up so often. The harsh light seemed to dim slightly as the brightness of his lover’s embrace faded from his mind once more.

Once the tall city scape had begun to subside into the smaller buildings on the outskirts, the trees multiplied and began to spread outwards. Shapes created by the constant trimming of branches into the powerlines made caricatures of their unpruned siblings glory, and the neatly manicured bushes of the council gardens reminded everyone that the city was in good hands.

All for show, everyone knew. But the effort was what counted. At least outside of the office buildings.

Drifting through the quieter roads, now he’d passed several of hte busier suburbs, the streetlights began to take on a warm orange hue, rather thant he energy efficient bright white of the LEDs further into the city.

A small welcome into the homely ness of his neighbourhood usually brought him some sense of solace after leaving the bustle of sterile office walls and cubicles. Tonight, though, he’d journeyed too far into the past, and missed the transition, external factors reduced to a simple stimuli for hands and feet.

The garage door, in sight at last, rose as he neared. The blackness of the void barely beated back  by the light over inner door. Various belongings neatly stacked and packed into the space around the vehicle informed onlookers that the occupant had a number of activities they had once enjoyed, with kayak and bicycle occupying their own hoisting racks on the walls.

The driver switched off the vehicle, feeling the winding down of the restless energy beneath the hood, even muffled as it was by the extensive engineering of the car company.

This was his final breath of calmness and safety before the house opened up and swallowed him in its routines and familiar lines.

With a small sigh, which went unoticed, he opened the door, fetching his briefcase from the passenger chair as he did so. The door’s quiet close failed to bring any life to the space, the stillness of the closed off air stilling momentarily.

His polished black shoes shone dully in the harsh light of the garage door bulb, as he opened the door and stepped through.

His housekeeper had provided a fresh bowl of fruits; the driver, now on foot selected a succulent banana and mindlessly chewed it as the briefcase came to rest on the floor beside the fridge.

Heating up a container of leftover pasta and meatballs, the driver sat and mulled over the path he’d trod through life. He couldn’t recall many of the good things that had happened to him right now, but he was certain there had been a fair number.

Where had they gone, those memories? He needed something physical, like a picture frame or photo album to hold them close, and rekindle the light which had been guttering for so long.

Maybe it was finally time to retire. To find a place to be, rather than simply exist.

Opening his front door, the driver paused at the threshhold, this thought of freedom outside the confines of his normal thoughts. He stepped through the invisible barrier or routine, and ambled down to the road which curved towards him and away to the left. Looking up at the moon’s gentle face past the artificial lights around him, the driver thought he saw some forgiveness in its face.

The sounds of a loud car engine and whoops and hollers vaguely clambered inside his head as he was brought back down through the endless space of blackness between his and the celestial body whose freedom he envied.

All of a sudden the headlights of the speeding vehicle came into his awareness, blasting all throughts from his head as the screeching of its tyres and the yelling of the driver and passengers became one with his body and mind.

The drivers breath came shorter, thoughts of Kevin and he in their younger, freer days tugging a smaile at the corners of his lips.

Soon he would be free.

Free of all this.

The Felling

The sounds of the forest begin to fade. The scout moves carefully through the underbrush, each footstep carefully finding a quiet spot among fallen leaves. By the time she has taken a handful of steps the silence feels complete. The sun, heedless of the girl’s rising concern, continues to shine through the dense canopy, the rays showing dancing motes on the breeze.

 Lysson’s boots were the second most expensive item she had, after her long bow, of course. The boots were handmade, and for scouting and tracking, a properly fitted boot was eseential. After the initial foray into shoemaking, shed had to turn to the cordwainer in town. She kept her own efforts for around the house, though.

The longbow itself was held in her hand, arrow already nocked. Its limbs reached outwards and back reaching well above her head. With the shrubs and bushes which crouched on the forest floor, it was quite a task to keep the string and limbs free of obstruction during a shot.

 Her outfit of muted browns and greens kept her as close to the forest background colours, without making her unsuitable for walking the streets. Breeches and a fitted jerkin allowed her to move through and around the hungry forest without hindrance, while here hat came to a point in front of her eyes. The felt was the product of her own hunting and animal care, an accomplishment she was quite proud of.

 Her free hand caressed the damaged leaves of a nearby bush. Stray hairs of her target remained clutched among the grasping splinters.

Running wildly, through things. It must be him.

 The breeze wafting towards her announced the presence of a mud hole. There, a cloven hoofprint. Most of the animals in the forest had cloven hooves. The prey animals anyway. But this one had been in quite a hurry.

 A wild noise broke the silence nearby. Lysson’s natural reaction to freeze in place rose, but she slowed her movements to a crawl instead. Freezing simply highlighted the presence of something mobile. Branches and leaves didn’t freeze in place, so neither did the hunter.

 Before the sound has faded, Lysson had strode purposefully forwards, and peeked around the trunk of a large tree. In this part of the forest, she wouldn’t have been able to touch her fingertips around any of the tree trunks.

 There, snorting and prancing in the clearing up ahead. The buck.

 The clearing was torn up, here and there. The grass trampled where it had been insulted by powerful hooves. Various trees around the edge had gouges from where the beast had tried to let out whatever it was feeling. Its wild eyes and foaming mouth confirmed the hunters worst fears.

It was contaminated too.

 The beast stopped in front of a tree on the other side of the clearing, and bent its neck, the hair wet with its exertion. A few swipes of its antlers and it reared up, briefly, before bringing its head down once more, panting, head lowered.

 Lysson bowstring tightened as she set her bow-arm. This was already a difficult hunt, but her target’s unpredictability would make it touch and go.

 As she eased back from the trunk of the tree, to move towards one end of the clearing for a better shot, the buck raised its head, gazing straight at its pursuer.

 Aaah! What the hells was that?

Lysson winced as she felt a bolt of pain go straight through her head.

 Setting her jaw, she saw the animal glaring at her, seemingly unaware of the effect it had had on the human. Nostrils flaring as it pawed the ground, the animal made to launch itself forwards. Its weight would carry it through any defence, and the tree sharpened tips of its impressive rack would go straight through the annoying presence in front of it.

 The bow rose, the hunter’s muscles working smoothly in concert, as they had hundreds, thousands of times before. The arrow flew true, the metal tip passing through the creature like a hot knife through butter.

 The beast was dead before it hit the ground, but its weight carried it a few metres forwards all the same.

 Before the beast fell, another arrow from the quiver on her back sat waiting on the bowstring.

 As silence once more settled on the scene, Lysson slowed her breathing, straining her ears for any further disturbances. Keeping the arrow on the string, she moved into the clearing, towards her fallen foe. Now that it was dead, she could feel an uneasiness from where it lay. It reminded her of the bolt of pain she’d felt a moment earlier.

 Placing her bow on the ground next to the beast’s body, she drew her hatchet, clutching the handle tightly as she reached her other hand towards the animals head.

 Something was in there.

Probably the same thing shed seen from the others.

 She extended her thoughts down her arm into the animal, and felt it. A slippery feeling. Of turmoil and disaster.

 As before, a thick substance dripped from the bottom of the skull into the grass. It was unlike any liquid had seen before. It flowed, unlike pitch, and seemed to suck in light. In the bright sunlight of midday, it quickly evaporated, and the pressure it had been exerting on her lifted.

 The sun seemed a little brighter, just then.

 Sitting back on her heels for a moment, Lysson let the relief flood through her. It had been a long hunt, from the house back near the edge of the forest. But she’d ended the reign of terror of this powerful beast, corrupted as it was.

Without something taking control of its fear and anger, she would have been able to calm it and prevent any property damage or bloodshed. But her gentler abilities were no threat to whatever that black stuff was.

The animals of the forest would soon be attracted to the carcasse, and she set to work, replacing the hatchet on her belt and drawing her knife.

Some time later, the sun had shifted in the sky, and the bucks skin was safely stowed, while a few choice cuts of meat had been sealed in a bag. It was spelled to keep the meat fresh, and with a little help from her, wouldn’t run of power for a good long while. Rinsing her hands with some water from her water skin, she rose, and took a sip.

It was a long walk back to the cabin, and she needed to write her report.

Its a tricky time after a period of great upheaval, certainly, there is only so much one can get from others.

It is most often simplly a matter of reading the situation before we can get on with the business of moving on. 

Even the smallest mistake can lead to murky waters, which are treacherous.

I think its time for bed, but i definitely haven’t helped my case in terms of my friendly relationship with my ex.

Who knows, perhaps she will never forgive me for what i’ve done. 

perhaps even one day, i’ll forgive myself.

It seems that there is a permanent void which i cannot define the origin of.

I have no idea how it began, but it is safe to say that i am not a friend.

it is definitely something which i do not enjoy.

But as they say, there is nothing as bitter as a woman scorned.

comprehending the possibility of a peak ahead makes the journey continue. the feeling of hopelessness, and desire for solitude does not extend to isolation where it once did.

those who witness this seem to see, and they perhaps trust me to see it through. perhaps they merely do not understand. at any rate, I have seen a few glances, and I know not what they engender. I have not yet sought the answer, but the time nears.

I know that I have a direction, after the next 2 months. a small milestone in 3 days. a small milestone in a week.

where a skipping stone makes reduced gains and falls, a sturdy stepping stone retains its place until the river swirls higher. the stone remains, solid and strong. it does not lose its place, but only its integrity.

like memories, they build into a future. changing with time, but creating a safe space to walk when there is nothing seen ahead. sometimes, in desperate times, within is the only way forward.

I understand the benefit of blankness. perhaps I do not comprehend. certainly there is a gap between my perception of understanding and total comprehension. perhaps not linguistically, but mentally, I feel a difference between them.

I hope that continuing on may grant me the answers to the riddles which cannot be unravelled alone. only through exposure to stimuli can I visit thoughts outside of my own perception.

I continue to strive to expand, knowing that there are limits to what I can portray safely. even more currently, I notice a neural pruning of thoughts which results in a more homogenous action.

It is notable that others always seem to comment on a marked change. I can see the change from a third person view. I become more aware of the changes once they are announced from another mind. Once notices, they can better be managed, but the management is part of the cost of living.

From me to you,