The Revolutions of Time | Page 4

all land, of being attacked by an enormous leviathan of the deep. As
unfounded as the fear is, it places one into a frenzy of dubious thoughts that inspire
equally frantic and anarchist actions. Because of this, I thought that my ideas were naught
but superstitious fancies, yet try as I might, I could not rid myself of them.
Instead, I made up my mind to set off in the opposite direction, north, and to advance at a
double march until I should reach the woody border, which looked to present shelter not
only from the southern apparitions, but also from the shielded underworld of the grasses,
in which also dwelt the mysterious sense of fear and predestined deja vu. It was slightly
chilly, but beyond that nothing defaced the temperate beauty of the day, and even that
promised to soon dissipate with the continual strengthening of the sun's warmth. As I
walked, or rather, trotted along, it did just that, and in the growing warmth of the day the
sweet fragrances of the many various grasses rose to the surface, delighting my odor
perceiving sensors with their earthy simplicity.

The day marched on, and with it I, and the distant wall of trees began to slowly grow
closer. At length, I found myself at their edge, at around the noon hour, and as I came
upon the first of them, I leaned against the trunk of a large, thickset tree for a moment of
repose and reflection in its shade. It was by all appearances an ancient wood, for the line
between it and the prairie was distinct, appearing as if the shrubs and lesser flora had
acquiesced to fate and retreated beyond the forest's claimed boundaries, rather than
continue for countless ages to charge and then be pushed back, to gain a foothold only to
be thrown out a year or two later. The trees themselves were mighty pinions of strength,
tall and of great girth, and spread far apart from one another, leaving wide open spaces
between their towering trunks. A short, soft grass clothed the land that stretched on in
their midst, joined in its solitude by a hearty looking moss that stretched itself out on the
trunks of the trees and on the rocks and boulders that lay scattered here and there among
the open spaces. Far above, the trees' great branches spread out a thick canopy, covering
the whole of the forest area in a relaxing and invigorating twilight, rendering itself
homely and quaint. After a few moments of enjoying that most pleasing scene, I roused
and extricated myself unwillingly from its enchanted depths and set off once more into
the heart of the woods, having no where else to go.
After a time, I cannot say how long, I came upon a small, trickling stream which flowed
deeper into the woods, that direction being northward. A short walk along its path, after
refreshing myself to content with its pure waters, brought me to its destination: a large
lake into which the forest opened. Its banks were very gradual and the grass of the
woodland led right up to the water's edge. The surface of the water itself was smooth and
delicate.
Amidst the pleasantness of the scene, there was something missing from the feel of the
area: inhabitants. There was an abundance of wild life of all kinds, and much organic life
as well, but something greater than flora or fauna was missing: people. I had traveled so
far, and without any sighting of a person. It was a lonely and desolate feeling which
prevailed, despite the abundances of life. Novelties soon grow worthless with no one to
share them with, ideas become meaningless if not communicated timely, emotions grow
boisterous and uncontrollable with no end to receive them.
I was quite alone, unfortunately, and it dampened my spirits considerably. Feeling
despondent, I turned and walked sullenly from the lake's edge into the woodland once
more, with no definite purpose in mind, only a meandering thought of my dismal
situation. My thoughts morphed, in succession, from anxiety to despair, to anger, to
frustration, and in my frustration I knelt down and picked up a fallen branch from the
ground, walked to the nearest tree, and eyed a strange, protruding knob that stuck out
from the trunk. I held the branch at shoulder's length and swung it at the knob with all the
force of my built up emotions. It hit with a crash and a hollow thud, leaving the branch
broken and my arm sore, but the knob undamaged.
But then something unexpected happened: with a grating noise, a small hole appeared
part way up the trunk, coming from what looked to be solid wood, for no sign was seen
before of its having