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A home without a wall, |
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| Reflections on the Web |
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The Exodus |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Musings Ardjel laid in his bunk, inside his home in the village of Nipsiny. Across from him lay Sandro, his younger brother. The room was dark, but the moonlight still shone vitally through the small windows. A chair was set in the centre aisle of the room, where Ardjel and Sandro could conduct their studies at a desk that could be moved into the room anytime. They had been through a long day, helping their parents build more supplies for the neighbouring settlements, and engaging their minds in scholarly work. They had learned more of the skills of reading, writing, and mathematics. "Why doesn't father speak of home? He's been there, hasn't he?" Ardjel asked. He was now beginning to assume that his brother was asleep. Although Father and home had been on his mind all day, he was close to letting the subject go for now. Just then he heard his brother moving in his bunk. "Not again, Ardjel," Sandro said, almost whining. "So what if he's been there? You've worried about this for too long. Your brains will fall out. It's true, Wallas said it happened to him a year ago, and he was lucky to pick them up before they got too dirty, and shove them back up his nose!" Ardjel could never stand his brother's gullibility. However, this time, instead of dealing with it, he pressed on with his question. "Does the great city that we all came from really still exist? I wonder . . . " "I don't know," Sandro said. "But your brains--" "Save your breath and sleep, before your lungs fall out." Ardjel said, deciding to give up on worrying about the great city. He then paused and whispered so as to scare Sandro, "if you keep talking, your tongue will fall out. It's true, Wallas said it happened to him a year ago, and he was lucky to pick it back up before he tripped on it!" Eve Marnke dragged the wagon carrying firewood back up the steep bank toward her father's house, relying on the moon and an almost dead flashlight to guide her. She struggled to keep hold of the flashlight in her right hand while keeping the wagon from flipping against the various rocks and bumps in the path. The shadows of both the top of the hill and the various trees along the way danced erratically in the light cast by her flashlight against the side of the white house. The trees rustled in the gentle evening wind. Marnke stepped over the infamous root she'd so often tripped on during her upbringing. Periodically, she looked behind her to make sure that none of the wood in the wagon had fallen out for her and others to stumble on the next day. Upon reaching the house, she dragged the wagon to her left, to the front of the house. She then placed the wood on top of the wood pile beside the front door. Father stood in the doorway, waiting for her. "You know," Father said, "you needn't do all that work. I could certainly have done it myself." "Father," Marnke said, puffing a breath of air up toward her bangs, rustling them, "I'm quite capable of handling this job. I'm--" "Yes," father interrupted, "You're eighteen. I know." Marnke had similar conversations with her father countless times during her upbringing. Ever since her mother had died when she was twelve, Marnke had felt it her responsibility to do the jobs her mother once did. Her father always tried to convince her not to, but she claimed that it was only appropriate. The truth was that they always reminded Marnke of the happy memories of her mother whenever she did them. It was as though she could keep some tangible piece of her mother's life close to her heart if she did them. As the memories and the pain faded, the chores ceased being a homage to her mother's life and became nothing more than a natural routine for her. "Come on," Father said, beckoning Marnke back into the house for the evening. School Ardjel and Sandro sat together, as they always did, in the village school house, listening to the various lessons from Falo, the instructor. The room was constructed almost entirely of wood, save for the metal roof and chimney. The building could easily house most of the young children of Nipsiny, though Falo preferred to teach the same lesson thrice each day so as avoid overcrowding the small building. Each desk could be opened and used as a temporary storage for the students' belongings. Fastened to the top right-hand corner of each desk was a portable calculator. "Who," said Falo to the entire class, "can tell me what happened in the year 100?" Most of the children in the room raised their hands enthusiastically in response to the question. Falo calmly continued to pace about the front of the room, occasionally glancing down at the surface of his desk, which was in the right-hand corner. "You," Falo said, pointing to the small girl in the green dress, "Chelle." "The principal events of the year 100," Chelle began, in her usual overly academic manner, "included the exodus from the ancient world of the oppressive Utopia, the rediscovery of the principles of science, and the development of human civilization as we know it." "Very good," Falo said, smiling. Chelle looked about the room with a smug grin on her face and then sat down. The past few years had seen a steady increase in the number of gifted children coming to the school. Falo had attributed it to better parenting. Most of those children who were gifted grew up to live normal lives. There was little difference between the mentally gifted men and women and those with average intelligence. Everyone did his or her share of the work in Nipsiny. However, there was a steady flow of gifted people leaving the village. Some said that they moved on to repopulate the old ruins to the north, while others said that they moved back to the ancient city of Utopia. However, despite the rumours, the gifted children grew up as regular people. They were educated the same way, they lived the same way, and they carried on in life as everyone else in Nipsiny did. Falo continued his lesson, "Now when our ancestors left Utopia, they came to a strange and dangerous land. At first, they had a very difficult time living there. But, as time went on, they learned to build houses, computers, and boats. John Shire, the leader of the original settlers, was a very smart man. He was also a very helpful man. He often returned to Utopia to secretly bring others who didn't like it there either, out." He paused and shot a disapproving glance at one of the rambunctious boys in the back of the room, and then continued. "Slowly, civilization as we know it, was built. John Shire and his friends left Utopia about three hundred years ago, so you can see that we've done a very good job at living on our own. We've been able to stay alive with food in the forest, and we've been able to build factories where computers and calculators can be built, just like the ones you see in this room." As he spoke, Falo wrote notes on a chalkboard in front of the room and the children copied them onto pieces of paper. Sandro raised his hand. Falo glanced over at it and said, "Yes, Sandro?" "Sir?" Sandro began, "Why don't we have cars like they do in Utopia?" A few of the students in the room laughed at the preposterous idea. There was no way a car could work in a place like Nipsiny. "Quiet down!" Falo yelled. "That was a good question. There is no need for such disrespect. Everyone apologize to Sandro." All of the students, some more reluctantly than others, unanimously said, "We're sorry, Sandro." "There," Falo said, "That's better. The reason we don't have cars, Sandro, is because we don't need them. Nipsiny is a very small place. For hundreds of years we have walked. In some of the larger towns people use horses to move about. We use computers though because we do need them to understand the world around us better. We also understand how to build them much more than we understand how to build cars." The class looked at Falo strangely. Few of the students had given the lack of any cars in Nipsiny any thought. Adam Wallas stood at the edge of a precipice a short distance from Nipsiny. The setting sun cast shafts of light onto the trees and streams below and the rolling hills were crowned with golden edges. He could hear the gentle rustling dance of the trees, as a calm breeze embraced his face, tossing about his medium wavy brown hair. You still can't get it out of your mind, can you? His mind wandered, as he let the characters and beings he'd created in its confines roam free. They talked to him in their gentle voices as the sun continued to set. Wallas thought of Marnke. She was a good friend of his, and foolishly so. How could anyone love such a man as Wallace. Wallas thought onward about his predicament. Marnke had recently been indirectly trying to get him to open up more to her. He could tell that Marnke's love for him was much deeper than that of a mere friendship. Marnke the fool was in love with Wallas the coward. I should have... Wallas could never finish the sentence, not even in his own mind. He could not tell himself the truth. He could never forgive himself for leaving her there. It wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do. I did what a coward has to do... He remembered the trek he had made with the love of his life, into a cave to rescue her father, who had been trapped and pinned under several rocks only a day ago, in an earthquake. You are too precious to have sacrificed yourself for her. Ceres had dared to insult the very ideals that Wallas had failed to live up to. Ceres, the noble creation and voice of foolish denial, was no longer worth listening to, yet he continued. You are too special... Wallas was a failure. He could tell no one of his secret. The only ones who knew were a makeshift band of fools created by an equally stupid and lonely mind, and a naive girl who did not know any better than to dabble in his pathetic life. All that was left was for Wallas to keep living the normal life of a typical man of Nipsiny, and to carry his secret to the grave. He could only hope that Marnke would give up and back off. His mind fell into that pit made so long ago. Another tremor had moved through the cavern and several rocks had given way and fallen. He ran on, assuming she was still with him. He barely heard the anguished screams behind him amidst the terrible sounds of pebbles and rocks falling about him. Looking back, he saw her head protruding out from under the rocks. He could never forget those screams. He wanted to save her. He ran back toward her as the ground shook one last time. He could hear rocks falling behind him. In a dark ecstasy of dusty clouded terror he continued on past her. He left her behind... Once outside of the cave, Wallas had turned back to see it still intact and the opening free of obstructions. He ran back to save her, but in one last lurch of the ground, the cave entrance collapsed... You can't change it now. Ceres was back to his usual tact. Yours is the future, Michael, the voice of pure mystical logic, whispered. Change it. Warp it. Make it better. Leave this place. The last light of the sun died on the horizon. The wind could still be heard rustling in the trees. Wallas listened as his guilt poured out through the valleys, fiercely rushing up to the cliffs to consume him and destroy his soul in merciless blazing fire. The first wave of pain crashed up against him. Soon he was immersed in it. It burned at his every existence, and consumed him in a sea of weakness and terrible memory. He had lost his innocence. He had lost control. He drowned in the deathly darkened fire as it swept up against the precipice and held him captive inside his own blazing mind. Tears streamed down Wallas's face. His entire body began to quiver. He fell to his knees. "Sirey," he sobbed. "I've failed you..." Evening Ardjel and Sandro lie in their room together in their beds. Sandro could not stop thinking on the events of the day. He did not understand why so many people thought the notion of cars in Nipsiny was ludicrous. Sandro hadn't ever considered the question much before he'd asked it in class. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, it seemed. "Why did they laugh at me?" Sandro asked. Ardjel gave it some thought. Sandro had a tendency to ask too many questions on occasion. However, this was the first time he'd been laughed at in this manner. He had angered adults on occasions with his questioning instead of obedience. Of course, Ardjel had been in that sort of situation himself on occasion. It was nothing new. "You asked a question that wasn't really important," Ardjel finally answered. "Why not?" Sandro said, "We have to learn about history all the time too, don't we? Why is it important to know that someone named John Shire began everything, but not why it is that we don't have cars?" Sandro gave it some thought. He had to admit that the question Sandro had just posed was a good one. The fact was that people lived their lives in Nipsiny without much thought on why things were the way they were. History was only an afterthought. Nobody in the present cared why things were the way they were, but an historian one hundred years in the future would have been delighted to try to figure that out. "I don't know," Ardjel said, "That's just the way things are." There was a long pause. Sandro decided to change the subject; he was getting nowhere with this one. "Why don't people ever talk about the kids who left?" Sandro said. "What do you mean?" Ardjel asked. "You know," Sandro responded, "the kids who everybody says are strange and dangerous, the ones who left Nipsiny because we kicked them out." "I don't know," Ardjel said, "it just never comes up; too many bad memories, I guess. They hurt a lot of people here." Sandro considered Ardjel's response for a moment. He had been told the stories of strange children who had ransacked farms and taken animals. He had heard them called a variety of different names - everything from Child-Monsters to Exceptionals. Few of the things he had been told about them, beyond the fact that they had caused a great deal of trouble, were without contradiction. Some had told him that they could fly, while others said that they were merely overly disobedient children with no proper authorities in their lives. The most common story about them was that they glowed in the dark. "But didn't we hurt them?" Sandro asked. "Of course we hurt them," Ardjel said, now somewhat annoyed at Sandro's persistent pointless questions. "We had to get rid of them before they caused too much trouble." "Oh," Sandro said, detecting the annoyance in Ardjel's voice. He decided to drop the matter and go to sleep. Daybreak Marnke donned her shoes and left her home as the sun rose. She often made the journey to the Nipsiny market on foot every other morning. It was the best way in which she could clear her head from nightmares the night before or just from problems she had been dealing with too seriously. The walk was one of the few rituals she performed that had not been influenced in some way by the memory of her mother. In fact, her mother had hated walking long distances. The hour long trek toward the market was Marnke's own creation. She walked down the hill she had dragged firewood up two nights before. The ground was covered by a thick dew that parted for her as she walked through it. Marnke knew the woods around Nipsiny so well that the mist posed no difficulty. She thought about Wallas as she strode onward. He was the only man she could relate to. The rest seemed too loud or boisterous for her. It was as though they were putting on a show for her and the other women of Nipsiny. Wallas never joined in with them, but rather he played no part at all. He seemed so alone, never fitting in with anyone. Marnke was close friends with him, but despite her love for him he seemed aloof, keeping her at arms length. Oftentimes she didn't know what he truly felt for her or anyone else. In the midst of all that confusion and darkness she still loved him deeply. They had never discussed love or romance, but Marnke knew that deep inside he felt something for her. He was simply too afraid to tell her. Marnke continued onward toward the market and the dew continued to dissipate. Sandro The sun shone brightly through the trees as Sandro went about collecting berries. His family had always given him, the youngest child, the job of collecting berries, while his elder brother was given the task of fishing and hunting. He had always been told that when he was older he would be allowed to do the same things. His eighth birthday was fast approaching and he still had yet to be given anything more to do than pick berries. Sandro's basket was growing very full, with a danger of overflowing. He decided that it was time to head back home. As he turned something struck the basket and it fell to the ground, spilling berries everywhere. "Hey," Sandro said as he turned around to see what it was. He was met with laughter from a group of boys wearing tattered clothing. A sudden dread came over Sandro. He had heard stories of makeshift bands of teenagers roaming about the forest stealing children and then demanding ransom for them. He had thought the stories to be mere myths concocted by his elder peers in school until now. Sandro turned and ran. The last thing he saw was a thick tree trunk before him. Market Ardjel walked among the various booths and stalls in the town market of Nipsiny. The villagers mingled, many of them congregating in the bakery to his right. Ardjel had been sent by his parent to buy salt here. There was a slight sign of stormy weather in the sky and so Ardjel quickened in his pace so as to be able to pick up the salt before the market closed for any rain. The booth that sold various seasonings, including salt, was located some distance from Ardjel. He still could not quite tell why it was that the owners of that booth had chosen to make it so far away from the entrance to the market, while the soup kitchen, bakery and virtually every other vender of food was very close to the entrance. Ardjel felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Wallas. "Wallas!" Ardjel said, excitedly. Wallas had been a good friend of the Ardjel and his brother, often joking with them and helping them with chores. "How are you?" Wallas asked. "I am doing well," Ardjel responded. "You?" "Oh," Wallas said, "just dandy. Say, do you know where your brother went? I've been hearing some stories from other kids about him having run away, so I thought I'd check with you." "He's picking berries," Ardjel said, as they walked together toward the salt booth. "Why would people be making up stories about him having disappeared?" "Because," Wallas said, "some kids found a dumped basket full of berries not too far from your house." Ardjel looked annoyed as he stepped up to the booth to purchase some salt. The transaction took only a short time, and so he was able to turn around and say, "What kind of trouble has he gotten into now?" "Don't know," Wallas said as they started back toward Ardjel's house. Captive Sandro awoke in a dark cave. His hands were bound behind his back. He could barely see anything, save for the faint outlines of the walls. He heard water drip occasionally in the distance. The air was quite musty and damp. Some pebbles tumbled about. Sandro heard footsteps coming toward him and then saw a bright light in his face. "He's awake," He heard a voice whisper. "Want me to slug him out again?" Sandro felt that dread again, fearing the worst. He remained motionless, assuming that his captors would strike him if he moved. "Hey!" A burly voice said. Sandro was confused, not knowing who it was addressed to. He remained silent. "You!" The burly voice said, "answer me when I'm talking to you!" "Yes?" Sandro answered shakily. "Get up!" The voice yelled back. Sandro obeyed and stood up. He was ordered to leave the cave, which turned out to be surprisingly small. The light of day overwhelmed Sandro's eyes at first, and he sneezed. The others laughed at him. There were three boys in all. One of them was very large and burly, and probably the boy who had been yelling at Sandro. The other two boys were slimmer, one with long black hair and the other with medium brown hair. The area Sandro found himself in was quite different from any he had been in before. He saw none of the familiar patterns of trees and roots on the ground that he had grown accustomed to, nor any of the structures or buildings of Nipsiny. "Move!" The burly boy said. Sandro listened as the boys talked among themselves. "Jason, you ass," The large boy said. "The boss is gonna think we're weaklings for grabbing such a puny kid!" "Well he was the only one around," The small boy with the long black hair said. Each of the boys' faces was covered in blackened dirt, but that did nothing to mask their expressions of anger and rebellion. "I told you we should have gone to the east instead of the west, Jimmy," Jason said, now turning to the other scrawny boy. "Shut up!" Jimmy said, shoving Jason back. Jason proceeded to grab Jimmy and throw him to the ground. He then jumped on him, pinned him and began to punch him in the face. Both of the boys yelled occasional things to each other as the battle ensued. Sandro felt that this might be a good time to run away. As he began to run, he heard Jason scream, "Jehosaphat! He's getting away!" Sandro felt Jehosaphat's large burly hand grab him by the shoulder and drag him back to the rest of the group. "Don't put me to the test, sucker!" Jehosaphat said angrily to Sandro. "And you, foo!" He turned to Jason, "Stop trying to start fights before you hurt!" "You know that this kid isn't going to be able to walk for eight hours," Jimmy said. "Shut up!" Jehosaphat's words were sufficient to silence both Jimmy and Jason. Math "Who," Falo said, pacing the front of the classroom, "can tell me the first derivative of the equation Y equals X squared?" Falo was teaching the older students mathematics now. Few of the more intelligent children ever stayed in school beyond their primary years. The ones that did never actually demonstrated their intelligence publicly, but rather continued onward in their schooling as normal students. Marnke watched from the back of the room, as Wallas stood up and answered the question. "Y equals two X, sir," Wallas said. "Good," Falo said. He glanced at his desk and looked back toward the class. "Who can tell me how he got that answer?" Wallas sat back down in his seat in the middle of the room, as another student stood up and sputtered off the various formulae used to calculate the answer. After the class was over, Marnke exited the building and approached Wallas, who was sitting at one of the benches located around the school. He sat there thoughtfully as usual, not paying any attention to anyone or anything else. "You were talkative this afternoon," Marnke said. "Why just yesterday you didn't say a word to the teacher, and now you're calculating first derivatives for him." "Wasn't that hard," Wallas said, looking up at Marnke. He gazed longingly at her, while still keeping his emotions in check. Wallas was very good at being cold and emotionless. "What?" Marnke said, smiling at him. "Talking or calculating?" "Both," Wallas answered simply. Marnke placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel Wallas awkwardly trying both to enjoy her touch while at the same time hide his emotions from her. It was an odd feeling, but one she had grown accustomed to. In all her attempts to get to know him better and to be good friends with him, this was the closest emotional thing he had shown her. It felt as though he were both dead and alive at the same time. The Queen Night drew steadily closer as Sandro walked onward toward whoever was responsible for the leadership of Jimmy, Jason and Jehosaphat. He kept tripping on small rocks and roots on the path as it grew darker. Whenever he did this Jason or Jimmy would snicker and slap him on the back of the head. This would then be followed by several of Jehosaphat's carefully chosen swear words, which he employed effectively to describe his two companions. Jimmy began singing an old drinking tune that Sandro had overheard his father sometimes sing, much to the dismay of his mother, when he returned home. "Gonna get my beer," Jimmy began in a voice that was surprisingly loud, "Gonna burn my tab, gonna drink away my fear, gonna grow some flab!" Even Sandro, young and innocent as he was, felt that particular song was both trite and unoriginal. He would even tell his father this several days after he had returned from one of his rare adventures at a local tavern. His father would laugh gaily at his son's account, blush and then either change the subject or simply walk away. Sandro tripped on a root. He quickly picked himself up, expecting another swat on the head. However, nothing happened. He looked about himself. Jimmy, Jason and Jehosaphat were gone. He presumed that they had some humiliating act planned for him, and so he sheepishly ran off of the path and knelt hid amongst some trees. He could barely see now. A thick cloud cover prevented the moon and stars from shining through. The area was now very erie. Sandro could hear nothing, not even the sound of the gentle night breeze through the trees. He shifted his weight to see if he could get a better view of the path he'd run away from. It was now too dark. He was startled when a he felt a hand on his shoulder. He assumed it was one of the boys' hands and so expected the worst. "You know," The voice of an older male said, "You shouldn't hide from your rescuers in the woods like this. I've been trying to find you for quite some time." Sandro did not recognize the voice. However, whoever it was that was speaking to him did not appear to harbor any ill will toward Sandro. He seemed rather kind and docile. Sandro stood up and turned around to face his rescuer. He could see nothing more than a faint outline of a head. "Who are you?" Sandro asked. "Who are you?" The person asked. "Um." Sandro decided it would be best to answer the question. It did not seem that he would have much to risk in answering it if he was this far out from his home town. Few people would likely profit from the information. "Sandro," he said, "What is your name?" The boy stood there unanswering for a moment, apparently deep in thought. "Saleys," he said. Sandro had never heard such a name before. "Now come," Saleys said, "and join my friend back on the path." Sandro followed the dark shadow of Saleys out from the forest and back onto the path. He occasionally stumbled on twigs or roots. This was met by Saleys' helping hand, rather than laughter at his expense. He could now hear various night time animals moving about in the distance. He had rarely heard many of the sounds in Nipsiny. "Is this?" Sandro heard a female voice say, "Sandro?" "It is, Yalith," Saleys said, "Now our queen will be very happy. You know how much she wanted us to find him." "Agreed," Yalith said. Sandro was worried that this was now just another group of people bent on capturing him for ransom. This time the only difference was that this group was led by a ‘queen,' rather than a ‘boss.' It seemed that he was quite a popular person, with all these groups of people trying to find him. Nevertheless, he joined Saleys and his friend. Suddenly the forest lit up as though a continuous flash of lightning were standing in the sky. Sandro shielded his eyes with his arm, while they grew accustomed to the light. After some time, he lowered his arm and saw the source of the light. A large and bright figure of a women dressed in white robes stood before him. She wore many jewels about her neck. Saleys and Yalith dropped to their knees in silent reverence toward the great being. Sandro was dumbfounded, having no idea what to do next, and so he too dropped to his knees, mimicking the action of the others. "You have succeeded in your mission, noble servants," the woman said in a voice that was both booming and gentle. "Rise, child. You owe me no loyalty, though your respect is accepted with love." Sandro rose back to his feet and said, "Who are you?" "I am the queen of the future generations of peace," said the figure. "That is all you need know at this time. I promise you, all will be revealed in days to come." Sandro looked beside him at his two rescuers. Both of them looked human save for one very bizarre aspect. They both had a small strange red lump protruding from their foreheads. Search Wallas awoke early in the morning and left his cabin to resume the extensive community wide search that had been mounted for Sandro. Thus far nothing, save for Sandro's dumped basket of berries, had been found. Wallas and Ardjel grew increasingly worried. Many volunteers commented that finding Sandro was likely too late; he had been gone long enough to assume that he had either been killed or else had simply starved to death. He found Ardjel standing in the middle of the village square, where they had agreed to meet this morning. "Ready?" Wallas tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible. However, he could tell the Ardjel's grief was now talking its toll on him. He looked extremely tired. "Maybe you should get some rest." "Can't" Ardjel said with a slight tinge of anger at Wallas's suggestion in his voice. "We're going to find him, dead or alive!" His voice shook. Wallas decided that now was not a good time to argue with him. He simply said, "Okay," and then both he and Ardjel left the square for the woods. The hours passed by. Many people in the search party grew tired and weary. Wallas decided to side with Ardjel and show his anger at then for even daring to give up against these bad odds. As the last hours of the day ebbed away, Wallas and Ardjel often felt as though they were the only two who cared anymore about finding Sandro. "Wallas," He heard his name being called off in the distance, by Marnke. Wallas watched as a faint outline of Marnke ran toward him. As she drew steadily closer Wallas and Ardjel stopped to allow for her to catch up to them. "I think we're close," Marnke said, as she approached. "Something keeps telling me we are." This was very peculiar behaviour. Marnke was not known for her intuition. Ardjel simply looked at her strangely, with a sceptical and weary countenance. Wallas held a similar uncertainty about him. "Over half of the search party went home an hour ago," Marnke said. Ardjel felt a great feeling of anger. However, despite that, he could feel his own fatigue and rationality catching up to him. It was not likely that Sandro would be found now that he had been missing for such an extended period of time. "What makes you feel that we're close?" Wallas asked Marnke. "I don't know," Marnke replied, "I just feel it. Nobody in Nipsiny believed me." "What makes you think we will?" Wallas replied angrily. He was not in the mood for false mystical leads. He soon regretted saying it to her. Marnke sighed and then said, "If you don't want to believe me either--" "I'm sorry," Wallas said. He sighed and said in a rather weak and shakey voice, "I shouldn't have said that. I'm getting tired and this whole thing is very taxing." "I understand," Marnke said. She had never seen Wallas get this emotional over something. The truth was that Marnke's hunch was all that Wallas and Ardjel had. It was not likely that they would find Sandro through another gruelling search of the forest. Wallas would probably have given up were it not for Marnke's premonition. Wallas could tell that Ardjel was feeling the same. Both of the boys felt resigned to grieving rather than continuing in their futile search. "Look!" Ardjel said, pointing toward a distant hill. Wallas and Marnke turned and looked. A bright point of light travelled down the hill, toward them. Nipsiny Sandro had been walking with his strange rescuers and their Queen since the early morning. He remembered seeing the Queen and the odd faces of Saleys and Yalith, but then all recollection had ceased. The next thing he remembered after that was drifting out from sleep on the forest floor with Saleys and Yalith standing over him, waking him up. The Queen had been guiding them in their journey home for some time. She never said a word, but simply walked, leading the others behind her, and glowed brilliantly even in the day time. Right now the sky was darkening, and Sandro could see Nipsiny appear before him. To see the rather mundane looking village sprawled out before him after such an ordeal was one of the happiest experiences of his life. "Now," the Queen finally said, "I must leave you. I have set all in motion that is needed to be started. Now lead the boy to his home." The queen faded from view and the last echoes of her voice could be heard: "Follow the path..." The Future As she departed from the world and from the universe, the queen could only hope that she had been successful in initiating the next step in the evolution of the human race. She had waited a long time to attempt to make Earth into a peaceful planet. She could only hope. The world around her was still gray and dark. It looked like an empty stage waiting to be built up for a glamourous show. She looked down at the universe of Wallas and Marnke's realm. It was just a tiny sprout of a world amidst so many other thorny universes of sorrow and war. She could only hope that Wallas could take that first step, just as the world around him had so many hundred years before. She waited, hoping against hope, that the exodus would begin. Forgiveness Several villagers had now joined Ardjel to see what the bright light was, when it suddenly disappeared. "Come on!" Wallas said, leading the others onward toward the path out of town. He ran exuberantly along the forest pathway toward the hill, calling Sandro's name like a mad man. He had no real reason to suspect that this was in fact Sandro. However, Ardjel, along with the others, still followed him, hollering and yelling as they went. "Wallas!" Came Sandro's voice just up ahead. He sounded completely healthy instead of starved and dehydrated as Wallas had expected him to be. "Sandro!" Ardjel called. Tears streamed down his face. Never before had he been so glad to hear the sound of his own brother's voice. A short time later the two brothers embraced along the path, as Saleys and Yalith looked onward. Marnke laughed and grabbed Wallas's hand. Wallas, still struggling to keep away from Marnke, reluctantly accepted the hand. "You!" a voice yelled behind Wallas. It was a man who had joined them a short time ago. Wallas recognized him as one of the more prominant buyers and sellers of livestock in Nipsiny. He stepped angrily past Wallas and stood in front of Saleys and Yalith. "You were responsible for orchestrating this?" Saleys was taken aback. He responded, "No, we rescued the child from--" "Silence!" The man said. "I lost my two children because of you!" His voice shook with rage. "We know nothing of--" Saleys began, as the man struck Yalith in the face, knocking her unconscious. "Hey!" Wallas yelled, throwing off Marnke's hand. He grabbed the man from behind, as Saleys knelt to examine his companion. "If it weren't for you," the man began. Wallas twisted the man's arm, and he quickly grew silent. "You!" Saleys erupted with rage. He wanted to show the foolish weak humans just how awful they really were. He felt the love and emotional ties between Wallas and Marnke. "See this imperfection that you allow to live amongst you!" Wallas let go his captive and fell to the ground as he felt his mind opened up and cast upon the minds of others. The painful memories of his cowardice and weakness poured fourth. Everyone present saw the last dying breaths of Sirey, as she was left behind by the snivelling, cowardly fool that Wallas was. He could hear echoes of the thoughts others in response to Wallas's terrible tragedy. The voices echoed through Wallas's head. This is what became of her? What if he shows them that girl.. The girl I was so forceful with? Wallas's own imperfections, mixed with those of others, raced through his mind. Wallas was so evil, and the deeds of others shied in comparison with his memories. "And you praise yourselves!" Saleys yelled. "How is this:? What is this hypocrisy I see before me?" Saleys listened to the tragic tails of others, running through his mind, and laughed maliciously. He had access to everyone and he occasionally let them know by invading their minds and allowing them to listen to the full extent of his contempt echoing through them. This man had raped his daughter. That man had extorted money from another family and single handedly torn it apart. Still another man had cheated on everything from school test papers to his own wife and family. Wallas moaned in agony as his guilt consumed him. He was no longer fit for living. His mind, in its death throes, led his hand toward a dagger he had on his belt. The hand shook as it clenched the handle and drew it from his belt. Wallas slowly drew the knife closer to his throat, as he heard the voices of others as they examined his faults and compared them to their own. Why should he end his life alone? He felt the racing thoughts of suicide in others. Death moved through minds like a mighty rushing wind. This was the right thing to do. This was the last act of holy righteousness. Wallas had sinned and so deserved to reap punishment. Marnke felt the intense pain. She saw Wallas's true self before her very eyes. She felt his hopeless guilt arc across her mind, consuming all that lie in its path. This was Wallas's past. This was his past. "No!" Marnke threw herself onto Wallas and grabbed his hand. She fiercely grabbed the knife and threw it into the forest. "Stop this!" Everyone around stared on in amazement. Marnke listened as she heard several other men drop their own knives and abandon their course toward suicide. Marnke had given them hope. "Is this compassion I see?" Saleys demanded of the crowd present. "Hypocrisy! Foolishness! Perhaps I should show you the thoughts of others, foolish forgiving woman!" "And do you think that I have not done my own share of evil?" Marnke demanded of Saleys. "Do you think that only the perfect are allowed to show compassion?" He turned toward the other men, trying to inspire that sense of suicidal hopelessness in them again. "Perhaps your wives are embracing other men in their very beds as we speak! I know some are! Perhaps you are the miserable cowards Wallas here believes himself to be!" "And you!" Marnke said. "You have lowered yourself to our level. You demand vengence on us. What kind of forgiving compassion is that?" Several people ran away, not wanting their own lives to be exposed. Dread turned to chaos. The people stared dumbfounded. Saleys continued to ignore Marnke and said, "You've seen his guilt! Have you any consciences?" As everyone left, Saleys turned to Marnke and focused all his might onto her mind. She saw the evil she'd done. Wallas saw the evil. Her face was covered by tears but she stood her ground against the assault. She heard the laughter from Saleys, and the accusations from him. "Do you deny your evil?" Saleys demanded. "No." Marnke said simply. "Do you deny yours, Saleys the accuser?" Saleys fell back. There was no one else he could hurt. Wallas had long since collapsed into a sobbing heap of guilt and Marnke was too stubborn to let her past destroy her. Marnke found that she and Wallas were the only two present. Even Sandro and Ardjel had fled. Wallas felt his mind released. It closed up again. Saleys slowly picked Yalith up and carried her over his shoulder as he faded into the night. The people of Nipsiny would never see him again. Stories of this tragic night of grief would spread throughout Nipsiny and the surrounding villages for years to come. Wallas knelt, sobbing. All was released and his mind was in pieces. His world of secret agony was no more. The future was his. He felt Marnke's arms around him as the Queen's will had been fulfilled, and the day came to an end. "If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh" -- Magus [This message has been edited by fractal007 (02-21-2003 02:51 AM).] |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Fractal, I'm only on the Adam section so I'm going to come back when I have more time to finish this. And it's very engaging, in-depth and intelligent. One thing to consider, though, is that longer works have less of a chance of getting in than shorter ones. The final vote for a piece will be divided by the number of pages it takes to put it in the book. So, say this story is eight pages, and if you received 30 votes, you'd have a final score of a little less than 4. I look forward to getting back to this one in a few days. |
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Mistletoe Angel
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816Portland, Oregon |
 BRAVO!!! I too am going to return to this and read it again later as it was indeed rather descriptive and detailed! Have you ever considered screenwriting or playwriting, you'd be great at that! (big hugggssssss) I'm afraid that Michael is right on the submission process, longer entries will be more difficult to get into the book, especially when this is your 4th submission, so this will be rather difficult for it to get in Reflections though I am voting for it to keep hope as this truly is a remarkable prose! (sigh) God Bless You, we all love you so much! You have such a beautiful heart, sweet Kevin, thank you for sharing! May love and light always shine upon you! Love, Noah Eaton "Underneath your clothes there's an endless story..." Shakira [This message has been edited by Mistletoe Angel (02-21-2003 01:44 PM).] |
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Jamie Member Elite
since 2000-06-26
Posts 3168Blue Heaven |
Agree with squirrel--this is going to take a lot of votes.  JThere is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar. |
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LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
This needs a lot of votes.. but it deserves it... so let me add mine! Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.--Jesus Christ |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
You've got mine.  |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Thankyou all for the replies. Thanks also for the advice. I'll try and keep it down next time, lol. If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh |
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WhiteRose Member Elite
since 2002-07-23
Posts 3208somebody's dungeon |
Well this sure is a long one. I'd still love to see it in the book, for it's truly an excellent write.  |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
You are indeed, a WRITER! Proud to say that you're one of Canada's home grown boys! Peace & Light, EA |
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DawnG
since 2000-06-23
Posts 1494United States |
I too will have to come back and finish hopefully tomorrow as you have me totally wrapped into the story. Even if it doesn't mske it into my paper library in the book, it will definately remain in my electronic library to be read again and again and again. Dawn |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
We know it is far too long to get into the book but it is a brilliant write, sorry it took me so long to get in here and vote but I've been reading a bit at a time and it's taken me a while. |
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