The Revolutions of Time | Page 3

all
of the desolation between our times. That is what makes history an organic being, and by
history I mean all of the past, or all of the future, depending on your viewpoint.
A book is a connection between times and peoples, more so than any other medium. As I
put these words down in writing, it is as if I am imparting my very self into the pages.
And as you read them, the name Jehu slowly forms into an image, into a personality, and
from the empty word Jehu comes the great well of affection springing from a personal
intimacy. A book is an enigma in which no time exists, and as it is read it brings the
reader into its eternal being, for while it sits closed on a shelf it is no more than a
forgotten memory, yet when it is opened its contents come to life and its characters and
locations are once more existent in the same state as when they were written, the story
becomes once more reality.
While I have long been deceased, when you read this I am brought to life once more, and
with my rebirth I tell you my story, and make known to you the truths contained therein.
The words of this book are a rune gate, a portal to the past, and as you read them, your
present fades away and you are drawn into my present, this very moment in which I now
write. Then you connect with me intimately, and for a brief time the gulf of mortality is
transcended and the depths of my being are laid open to you. We commune together and
you eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, merging your existence with mine.
Come to me now, my friend, come to me across the gulf of mortality, for I await you.
Come, and in your spiritual peregrination meet with me, in this land of the past which is

so foreign and unfamiliar to you, but which will become for a time your home. Come to
me, my friend, and let me tell you my story.

Chapter 2
: Predestined Deja Vu

It was in the last stages of sleep that I began to feel the warm morning sun strike my face,
and hear the pleasant chirping of birds and crickets. I rolled slowly over, stretched my
legs and my back, and stood up, with the last remnants of a dream playing quietly in my
mind. But as I came to my feet and got a clear view of where I was, I realized it was not a
dream that I had had at all, but something far more sobering. I found myself somewhere
in the center of a very large prairie which covered the land for many miles around. From
the sun's lowly position on the eastern horizon, it was evident to me that the new day was
just dawning, casting a golden hue on the grasses that covered the prairie's surface.
Around the distant outskirts of the plain I could make out a ring of trees circumventing
the whole, waving almost imperceptibly to and fro in the light breeze that was blowing. A
few miles to the southwest there was a group of odd looking trees stretching up over the
horizon to a considerable height. They were closer than the outer ring, which kept a
uniform girth around the prairie, but somehow they looked very peculiar and foreboding,
and I got one of those sobering feelings which I like to call predestined deja vu. What I
mean is that I got a sense of deja vu, but instead of the past converging with the present
into one thought, the present seemed to converge with the future, and the result was a
mysterious foreboding of something, though I couldn't tell what. That is the sensation that
I had when I saw what I assumed to be a small grouping of trees somewhere in the
southwestern portion of the savanna, though that was merely a guess, for in the distance I
could only make out several dark forms rising out of the grassland like trees, or possibly
buildings, one of them being a great deal taller than the others, with a spherical shape on
top that only faintly resembled a tree's crown. If it was indeed a tree, it was the largest
that I have ever seen, for it looked to be upwards of 800 feet tall.
My mental warning bells were ringing quite loudly, and I endeavored to silence them by
extreme exertions of the will, but they would not be subdued. I assumed that they were
not at all correct, much like the fearful expectancy some have while swimming in the
ocean, out of sight of