Nature's change

Summer in the hills, green grass flowing as far as the eye could see. Sunlight shimmered off the water of Star Pond. The pond was large, located on the top of the tallest hill in the area and at night you could see the reflection of stars in the water.

Small cottages dotted the landscape, warm and cozy at night, a roaring hearth located in each little home, and cool and breezy during the day. The hill land ended abruptly at a valley where the mounds of earth of every size suddenly dropped off and made way for flat emerald green land. The tall grass of the valley swayed in the wind like waves in the ocean.

The warm days of summer and swimming in lakes gave way to the Fall season. The Fall colored the grass and trees with warm yellow, orange and red. The tall grass dried and looked like a golden wheat field. The best food of the year was harvested, stored and feasted on.

The valley had more cottages and houses clustered together. The terrain was forgiving and ripe for farming. At the edge of the valley was a great and mighty forest. Few forests in the world could be described as ‘mighty’, but the Ancient Wildwood not only covered a large section of land but the deeper into the forest the stronger the trees grew. The tall old trees were as big around as a cottage and the bark was as strong as iron. The people of the Valley would harvest the trees on the edge of the forest but no one ever successfully chopped down a tree in depths of the Ancient Wildwood.

The tall and ancient trees still bowed to nature like all trees do and their leaves we awash with bright orange and red. The Wildwood was so vibrant in the fall it could be seen for miles and looked as if it had caught fire.

The leaves of Autumn fell as the days grew cold. Late Autumn rain, cloudy skies and the bare branches of ancient trees made an eerie yet beautiful sight. A man carrying a lantern walked through the deep Wildwood, his small light bounced with each step. Through the forest and onto the edge of the land was a steep cliff side. The sheer cliff would have been impassible if not for a small winding trail that lead from the forest down to the sand beach below.

The path was steep and one false step could lead to a deadly fall to the shore below. Down the path and onto the windy beach, the rain from the season mixed with the cold of the ocean. Waves crashed against the sand, rain fell from the sky and wind blew in from the furthest reaches of the world.

Autumn drifted away like a falling leaf and winter blew. The rain was replaced with snow and the cold air mixed with the warm exhaling breath. Visible steam like breath puffed from the traveler’s nose and mouth as he stepped aboard a large ship. The ship was leaving this land and off to explore the unknown.

The chill brought in from the ocean heightened the cold of winter. Back in the forest the animals hid inside the great trees for shelter. The Ancient Wildwood might have lost its leaves but it would not bend to even the coldest winds of winter. The Wildwood lasted hundreds of years and stood against hundreds of winters. The people of the land did not worship the Ancient Wildwood but they did treat it with respect and hoped to also be as sturdy and enduring as the forest itself.

The snow had settled in the valley, the wind from the ocean was broken by the cliffside and tall standing forest. Trails of smoke lifted up from a dozen chimneys, the smoke curled and twisted on the breeze as it floated away.

From the Valley to the Hills, the snow had settled everywhere. The hills were so covered in snow that it was hard to tell where the snow stopped and the rock began. Star Pond had frozen over, the ice shimmered like glass and the pond took on an even more mystical aura as if it were a giant mirror hidden away in the hills.

Night in the hills was clear and every star was visible. The cold of winter sent chilling wind blowing over the glassy Star Pond. The people in the Valley often told stories of highest hill and Star Pond. They worried that on winter nights, when the air was cold and the sky appeared larger than normal, it would be possible to fall up into the blackness of space.

Just as night faded to day so did winter melt away. Spring crept in, slow and with caution. The snow turned to puddles, the Pond turned from icy glass back to water and the earth turned damp and muddy. The gray skies, rainy weather and muddy ground was far from the bright bloom of spring that most wished for but the damp weather meant water for plants and the plants did grow and eventually they bloomed. The bright blooming flowers and trees sprung up across the Hills and Valley. The Ancient Wildwood turned emerald green and the ocean by the shore calmed to a more reasonable pace.

            The people of the Hills and Valley were happy, they began their planting of crops, the children played in the muddy valley and swam in the cold water of Star Pond. The land and people grew another year older and observed another year of natures changing beauty.

October thoughts and feelings

Sit back and relax with your favorite hot beverage, forget the world, forget the summer and the winter, you are safe now.

            Rain trickled down from the overcast sky, fog floated peacefully over the land, a gentle breeze carried smells of wood smoke and baked goods. Up on the grassy hill sat a small bakery, the bakers moved quickly, unhindered by the sleepy haze of the day. The Autumn festival was fast approaching and the “Maple Hill” bakery was tasked with contributing pumpkin and maple related baked goods.

            The fog drifted down the hillside toward the heart of the town where the smell of fresh ground coffee, rain and freshly raked leaves all mixed into the air. Carts, wagons and old fashioned cars chugged along the road as pedestrians walked up and down the sidewalk. The people wore warm coats and scarves, they looked up at the shop windows as they passed by and sipped their hot coffee. The shops were bustling with Fall colors and treats of the season. The rain continued into the night, the people filed out of the shops and all headed to their homes. Warm lights began to glow from lanterns, street lamps and shop windows. The gentle rain speckled the shop windows and the raindrops reflected the light from inside the dimly lit stores.

            Night settled over the town and the sounds of owls in the distant forest, the light tapping of rain on the rooftops and the crackling of a wood fire could be heard in the town. Lights in the distance bobbed and shook as they traveled down the road leading out of the town. Fog cleared away to reveal the lights were lamps attached to a horse drawn carriage. The carriage was black and glistening with rain water, the carriage driver wore a long heavy coat, black leather cloves, boots and a wide brimmed hat. He sank down into his coat, pushing his neck more into his collar, like a bird pushing their head into their feathery body to stay warm. The horse was chestnut brown with a white diamond shape on its head. It had plane black leather straps attaching it to the carriage and overall was a healthy horse that wasn’t bothered by rain or chilly winds.

            The carriage rode out of the town and along the countryside. The road twisted along through a path that cut through wild country. To the right of the path was a slope leading down to a valley and a large field of green grass turning yellowish for the season. The sun began to rise over the field, its golden rays shining down and reflecting against the mist and the morning dew. The grass swayed gently in the breeze and the rain gave way to sun. The sunlight made the world sparkle and shine but since it was Fall the air stayed cool and pleasant. The morning air was fresh and clean, it awoke the spirit and invigorated the mind.

            Along the same country road, while the grassy field shined bright with swaying golden grass on the right, to the left was the base of a sturdy and ancient hillside. The hill stood overlooking the town and the surrounding forest. Old stone relics littered the cliff peaks, old stones from another age. The trees that lined the hillside were bright with autumn colors. The cool air had arrived and made the trees blush red and ignite with orange and yellow. This hill was almost the size of a mountain and was too big for anyone to live on but the sturdiest among the village would climb the hill and marvel at the view below. Standing on the top of the hill would let someone see the autumn forests and valleys for miles. An ocean of auburn, ochre and amber, colors of the fall all swaying and dancing like a field on fire. Surrounded by stone relics and staring at an amazing view, someone might wonder if the ancient people believed their hill was the highest or most important point in their small world.

            The world goes on though and while we all hate to leave the hillside and the sleepy town, we all must continue. Time flows like a river, taking us past many sights and experiences, we can only hope to truly enjoy these experiences while the sights are still visible. The road, not the river, takes us further into the world. This is when things get darker and maybe slightly more fun.

            The road twisted and turned, it flowed past a small village. This village is where the carriage driver stopped, but this is not where we will stop. The road took us further down into the forest, a forest of dark green pines, mossy oaks and sleeping beasts. The afternoon light was barely visible through the thick canopy of treetops. The fog was heavier and the sound of roaming creatures could be heard. The forest was dark and full of terrors but it was still day and the creatures of the night were asleep, dreaming of their next kill. The forest stretched on but in the distance was a glowing orange light, dull but distinct. The light was alluring and so it was followed. The light became clearer and more lights joined in. All the lights were floating in the air like spirits in the afterlife.

            The lights seemed to float in the darkness until it was revealed they were orange pumpkin lights hung from a solitary maple tree. A bright orange and red maple tree adorned with large pumpkin shaped lights. Each light had a tiny flame burning inside. The flames caste pumpkin shaped shadows out into the forest. At the base of the tree was a stone gargoyle with a wildly uncomfortable smile and its arms pointing to the right. To the right was a path leading out of the thick pine tree forest. The haze of the forest parted near the exit of the forest and the path led out toward a lively city full of bright orange, purple and green lights, dark colors and decorated with Jack-O-Lanterns. The city was full of carriages, old cars and people. The people wore black cloaks, gothic dresses, and bright green or orange with strange hats. Overall they seemed a little odd.

            The night fell over the city giving emphasis on the darkness of the city and the brightness of the lights. The warmth felt in the homes and cafes pushed back the creeping cold of the approaching season. This city was full of magic and mystery. It was they type of city where adventure or certain death could be waiting in alleys and pathways. From that point the path stretched on but we will go no further.

            It is not time to tell the story of the places beyond and the time has already passed for stories of what came first. This was not a story of villains or heroes, it was a story of a land and the sights inside of it. It was a story of nature, humanity, and pizza burps.

Holiday Contemplation

Snow drifted gentle from the sky as the wood in my hearth crackled and burned. I sat in front of the warming glow of the fire and watched the flames flicker and dance. It was night, the first snow of December had settled on the town.

            In the distance I could hear small bells ringing and people singing festive songs. The winter festival had arrived in this little village and everyone gathered in the middle of town to celebrate. The town would celebrate in song and dance for seven days and on the final day, when the clock struck midnight, everyone would exchange gifts and wish each other cheer. It was a fine tradition, celebrating the end of the year and giving the village something to celebrate during the winter.

            While others liked going out into the cold and singing, I preferred to stay warm in my home. I don’t mind the singing, but I don’t understand the need to be outside in the snow, or the need for those bells. Villagers carried small bells on a stick and rang them and cheered.

            I remember Hazel used to like the winter celebrations. She would sing and dance with the rest of the village. While I always assumed I lived in a village of idiots, I knew Hazel wasn’t an idiot, yet she enjoyed the festival just as much as anyone. I’ve always felt that there was a piece of myself missing, that I couldn’t enjoy the holidays like the others. I felt as though there was a wall between me and everyone else when it came to these things. During my younger years I tried to join everyone, I did the motions, I sang the songs and tried to be in good cheer. No matter how I tried to join the group I never understood the appeal, I never truly fit into the festivities.

            I gazed into the flickering flame and my memories took over, I no longer saw the fire, I was looking into memories of Winter festivals of the past. I remember being told that I ‘used to’ enjoy the fun, I ‘used to’ be a merry and cheerful fellow. I don’t know if these comments should make me laugh or cry, as the times the villagers spoke of were times that I was trying and failing to fit in. From their comments I can assume I was convincing in my attempts to join the celebration, but I never enjoyed a minute of it, I faked emotion to please the others and they believed it.

            I was always capable of experiencing fun and joy, but others used to say I was cold and unable to have fun because I did not run and jump like an idiot in the cold and snow. I did not enjoy drinking harsh alcohol that burned my mouth and soured my stomach, I did not enjoy women who I do not know climbing all over me after they had consumed too much beer or wine.

            I used to enjoy things with Hazel. She was a lovely person, she could sit with me by the fire, she enjoyed books with me and we had long and interesting conversations. She also enjoyed festivals and dancing like a maniac. She could enjoy so many things and was able to bridge the gap of interests between the village and me.

           

            Hazel was truly too good for this world, she was the only one who could get through my wall and see who I was behind the layer of bricks that I built to keep the world out. She had more power over me than I’d like to admit and when she died I felt my heart break and my mind snap.

            Over the long years I have recovered to some degree, but my heart would never be the same and I drifted further from the rest of the village as their ignorant attempts to help me only made me feel worse. It is almost midnight of the final day and the Winter Festival is almost over. I made a gift for Hazel and put it on a shelf above my hearth. I crafted a heart out of glass in my workshop. The heart was red like the fire in my hearth because the only things that could still warm me was the fire in my hearth and the memory of Hazel’s love.

The Duel on Wolf Peak

            The winter festival was fast approaching, it was a time to celebrate and eat one last big meal before the harshness of deep winter set in. All throughout the land people would hang colorful lanterns, cook delicious roasts with herbs and eat the last fresh vegetables of the year. The approaching months would be a time to preserve and conserve on food and resources so the winter festival was seen as a bright, colorful and loud firework in the sky before the dead of night set in. To the people living in the town of Wolf Peak it was one of the biggest holidays of the year. Wolf Peak was located in the White Mountains and the White Mountains had the harshest winds and coldest winters in all of the land. By the middle of winter Wolf Peak would be completely trapped by snow and deadly winds. The towns in the low lands could leave their house and even travel in an emergency if they had to. The people of Wolf Peak were confined to the town, cut off from the rest of the world for three months.

            During the Winter Festival people would prepare for the long winter ahead or just leave town and head for the lowlands, where the winters were shorter and less severe. The only saving grace that Wolf Peak had was the shelter of the Respite caves. Long tunnels and man made caves that bore deep into the mountain were known as the Respite caves, the town of Wolf Peak was built inside of the caves. Villagers wouldn’t be snowed into their houses but they were completely trapped inside of the mountain. The villagers who lived in Wolf Peak all year had a close bond with each other. After a year of relying on your neighbor you start to see your neighbor as a brother or sister.

            Soft music echoed out from the town and warm lights could be see shining in the Respite caves. People were celebrating, preparing for the night of the Winter Festival and preparing for the long winter afterward. While most celebrated there were those who had other matters that needed their attention. In such a peaceful and joyous time there were those who insisted on fighting.

Clashing swords rang out through the mountains, two men stood facing each other in a duel to the death. The bitter cold winds of the White Mountain Pass blew through the combatants but they both stood unmoving. One fighter was wearing all black armor, a black helmet that was rounded at the top and came to a point in the front, a long red scarf wrapped tightly around the neck, carried a long sword and shield and had a battle axe on his back. The first fighter was known as the Vanguard and had more than a few legends.

            The second fighter was known as Sir Gregory Andrews, a former knight who apposed his king and was thrown out of the castle and stripped of his honor and title. Sir Andrews was more recently known as Gregory the knight mercenary. Sir Gregory Andrews had medium length messy brown hair. A trimmed goatee that was starting to grow out and looked like it hadn’t been maintained in a few weeks. He wore silver armor that he owned from his days as a knight, the armor used to shine brightly like a star but it hadn’t been cleaned or polished in a while. Gregory used to have a helmet but the King had taken it away because it had the Kingdom seal on it. Even though his kingdom branded him a traitor he still tried to be noble in everything he did but also needed to eat and many of Sir Andrews’ deeds had not been noble as of late. Gregory knew the Vanguard was wanted by the king and figured if he captured the black armored villain then his good name would be restored and the King might even forgive him for all that treason stuff.

            Few people knew why the Vanguard was a wanted criminal and even less knew who the Vanguard even was. Sir Andrews didn’t care though, he needed to return to his noble statues and was running out of ways to get back on the King’s good side. Gregory charged at the Vanguard with his two handed sword, Gregory’s dirt covered silver armor clanked against the stone with every step.  The Vanguard did not react to Gregory’s sudden charge, the dark night just stood like a statue, firm and unwavering. Sir Andrews swung his sword, swinging it downward with all of his strength. The Vanguard moved with unnatural speed moments before the sword struck his armor. The Vanguard moved out of the way and in one motion slammed his shield into Gregory’s chest. The blow from the shield struck with such force that it knocked Gregory off of his feet and sent him backward into the snow.

            Gregory struggled to get to his feet as he clutched his chest and tried to breath again. The strike was so strong that Sir Andrews was lucky he didn’t have internal bleeding. “Why do you wish to fight me?” Asked the Vanguard, his voice echoed through his helmet and sounded almost inhuman. “I need to bring your head to my King. You are a villain with a price on your head” Gregory said as he held his sword up again. “I am wanted in many kingdoms, but I am not a villain. I do not want to kill you, but I will defend myself. If your honor commands you to slay me then you risk your life in trying to do so” The Vanguard said as he sheathed his sword, tied his shield to his back and pulled his two handed axe from its holster on his back.

            Sir Andrews held his sword tightly, he didn’t want to keep fighting, he felt out matched by this nightmare of a knight, but he couldn’t live another day as a mercenary. “If I kill you my honor will be restored, I cannot live without my honor. I won’t live another day as a dog” Said Andrews as he charged again. He swung his sword downward like before and the Vanguard crouched down to start a counter attack, knowing that the Vanguard would counter Gregory didn’t put all of his weight into his sword like last time and instead brought his knee up as his sword came down. The Vanguard tried to react but was kneed in the head. Gregory was able to bring his sword down on the now dazed Vanguard. The sacrifice was that his sword slash was not as powerful as it normally would have been.

            The Vanguard tumbled backward into the snow with a fresh slash in his armor. “Your supposed ‘honor’ binds you to your king like a dog. The kingdoms hate me because I am truly free. I have honor, I spare the weak and I do not resort to cheap tricks, but I am hated because I do not let others use my honor to chain me down” The Vanguard said, his words rang out, echoing with each word. The words stung Sir Andrews as he thought back to the things he did to survive all the while hoping to regain the King’s favor and his precious honor. “Enough talk, I will finish you here and now!” Gregory said as he stabbed his sword down on the Vanguard who was starting to stand back up.

            The Vanguard couldn’t react fast enough and the sword plunged through the shoulder joint in the armor were there was little protection. The Vanguard’s armor had weak spots and joints in it for increased mobility. The weakness in the Vanguard’s armor had been exploited and blood dripped from the shoulder joint and down the Vanguard’s hand as his blood spilled out through his armor. “So you are a man after all. So many stories were told of you being a demon or a specter that haunted a suit of armor” Said Sir Gregory with triumph.

            The Vanguard’s armor began to glow and pulsing red light vibrated from the black metal plates. Gregory stepped back as the Vanguard stood up. “I am none of those things. What I am, is your death” Said the Vanguard, his voice echoing from his helmet in a rage. Icy wind blew over the two combatants and the snow began to blow in from the north. The winter storms were growing more intense and if the battle lasted much longer both the Vanguard and Gregory would freeze to death.

            The Vanguard took off his helmet and threw it into the snow. Gregory Andrews was take back by what he saw. The Vanguard lifted his axe with one hand as his other arm lay limp. Before Gregory could react the Vanguard had moved forward four feet in a blink and was mid attack. Gregory only blinked once and then saw the Vanguard raising his axe into the air and then down onto Sir Gregory’s shoulder. The axe slashed through Sir Andrews’ armor and cut a chunk into his shoulder, upper torso and ribcage. Sir Gregory Andrews coughed up blood and stared at the Vanguard with a hazy vision.

            A woman with jet black hair, burning red eyes and skin as white as the snow stared at Gregory with intense hatred. “You lived like a dog, chained to your master. Now this is where you die, cold, alone and forgotten” Said the Vanguard, her gaze harsher than the winter winds of the White Mountain. The Vanguard picked up her helmet, placed it back onto her head and walked off, blood dripping from her arm and leaving a trail behind her. Soon she disappeared into the wind and snow of the mountain and Sir Gregory was left alone. Blood poured from his wounds and he began to lose consciousness. Faint music was heard from the town of Wolf Peak and Gregory smiled. The Winter Festival was starting and Gregory wondered were he would be right now if he hadn’t chased after the King’s favor like mad dog.

            Gregory closed his eyes, music played softly like a lullaby and then soon faded. The sound of the wind disappeared and the cold could no longer be felt.  The Winter Festival was fast approaching and everyone was busy celebrating.