A Westward Migration

A handful of kids were playing outside of one of their suburban american homes. To their parents it looked a chaotic but these kids were playing the most intricate game they could come up with. The bossy one was making up new rules to the ones she established only a few moments before. It was late afternoon and the sun was a weak yellow shining through the trees. As they were playing, something came over them - like a switch turning on a light bulb. It came to them like something they suddenly remembered while doing something else totally unrelated. It came with mixed emotions. The kids became more happy, almost giddy; they became anxious and angry, almost like a nervous panic. Their blood began to flow violently. Their veins wanted to pop due to the pressure - it was that feeling of excitement that makes your body jump or skip. They all honed in and with camaraderie began to sprint down the road. Their energy only increased as they ran and by the time the got to the end of their street the found others doing the same thing. People of all ages as far as the eye could see were running in the same direction: west.

As these kids ran they were joined by hundreds until they were no longer noticeable. The mob continued to the nearby turnpike where everyone seemed to gravitate. There were many in cars trying to move west but there were too many people on the road to go anywhere. Eighteen wheeler trucks were at the mercy of ten year-old kids and ninty year-old men. Cars on the other side of the highway were wrecked and slowly navigating through the wreckage because they all decided to turn around and only a few succeeded. The mob ran down, beside, and around the highway all trying to go west. You could see people running in the trees next to the highway like indians staking an ambush on their enemies. There were even men on horses trying to make their way west. They were Spanish Conquistadors in full garb. Each one looked exdactly the same with his new but dull armor, dark orange under garments, and brown haired horses. The all had fully grown beards that were thin but not well groomed - as if they once were well-groomed but are too far and too long away from home to care or notice. These men rode fiercely down the highway keeping together and making amazing time. It was as if Ponce de Leon rose from the dead hearing that the fountain of youth was spotted but still not discovered.

As time went on people began to spread apart. Everyone was still full of energy but were trying different routes to move along faster. The kids found themselves in a big field full of haystacks. The grass a deep green and the hay a very bright tan color. As they continued to run they found the Conquistadors on their backs. They shouted at each other arguing whether to hide or to keep running. They did not know if the Conquistadors were friendly or an enemy. After about a minute of that the bossy girl took charge. She demanded everyone to follow her and of course no one protested. They were led behind a haystack to hide. They sat and waited until the heard a horse coming. It's hoofs got louder and louder and heavier. They could hear the horse grunt and neigh almost in pain. Before they could understand what had happened they found the horse and the Conquistador dead right by the haystack. The kids looked at them in a wide-eyed but calm fashion. Again they acted like a democracy and argued about what to do next. Their fearless leader took charge of her subjects and decided to cover him up with a wagon that the hay was carried on. They all moved the twenty feet to the wagon and began to push. It was very heavy for only a few children but the managed to get it next to the man and his horse. They then, following orders, pushed the cart over on it's top with their feet and it landed and covered most of the victims. They then quickly started running only to hear more hoofs on the ground - an army of them. The scurried back to the haystack and waited for them to come. The leader found his wayward soldier and knew something was arry. He looked carefully around and the children were frightened. They didn't have much cover and they could easily see him so it was inevitable that he would see them. The leader looked carefully but hurriedly - he had to press on towards the west. He looked right at the kids but didn't see them. He called his troops and the moved on and the kids were relieved.

Excerpt from "Northing"

"Love is synonomous with pain," Sloane said with intense conviction as he eyed his foe. He was out of breath due to the rigorous fight but he mustered up enough breath to still speak with weight. "You cannot experience love without experiencing pain; you cannot experience the bloody warm blade of a sword without having a love worth dying for - whether it be life, nature, God, . . . a woman."

Fionn stared at Sloane with a stoic demeanor. His sword was drawn but not on guard even though Sloane was just a step away from killing him.

"You know it is true, Fionn. You have chased her and her exclusive love for years and have faced endless trials and pain. Your life alone is testimony of this truth. Do you really want her? You have chased after her and almost died, what do you think will happen once you've grasped her beauty? I tell you the truth; if chasing her has injured you in every fashion, having her will be your death."

Fionn throughout all of this was standing still and emotionless. After Sloane had spoken, Fionn looked down for a few seconds completely open like he was waiting for his death blow. Sloane, however, was taken back enough to let Fionn contemplate his "wise" words. Fionn slowly raised his head and sword. In his eyes you could see a white, pure fire burning from within. He gained his composure to full force and screamed with every ounce of his strength left and every ounce of passion gained over his journey:

"If love is synonomous with pain then every blade in my side, every arrow that has grazed my cheek, every crushing blow upon my neck is nothing but love being infused in my body and soul! Every wound has only made her beauty that much more sweeter, her love that much more captivating! And if I die because I chose to love her then that is only because she has overwhelmed my being to the point of consuming it! My death will not be of mortal injury but of my solitary being becoming one with her's!"

Fioon then charged at Sloane with....

Dreams in Valleys

There was a grassy meadow full with tall, yet soft grass, dandelions, and daisies. In the distance, maybe a twenty minute walk (or five if measured by a kid), there are snow-capped mountains stamped against a hazy blue sky. The sun was on the brink of setting but was fighting the edge of the mountains like a puppy on a leash fighting it's master. The girl in this scene had no puppy however, but she seemed to not even notice the fact. She was too busy running. She was running home with a huge smile on her face, in a pretty white sun dress with red flowers on it; her brown hair in a red ribbon was tickling the tall grass as she ran by.

Her home was odd and...well homey. The front yard was as big as a decently sized bedroom, surrounded by a white fence that seemed easy to step over, which kept the burglars out because no one would want to steal anything with such an innocent, modest, pure guard. The fence attatched to the sides of the house and there was no way in or out of the house's premises, except to step over it. The house was small, maybe even a one room house, with an attractive red roof and white walls. Beautiful window gardens on the windows were symetrically lined with the front door. There was something magical about it; any one who saw it would be convinced that this small home was a castle and she was the princess; to walk through the front door was to walk into a grand hall fit only for God Himself.

As she entered the yard she kept full speed until she came upon the open front door. She slowed down and eventually stopped a yard or so from the front door. By now the sun had lost its battle and is setting with vengance; the sky is now rich of a full orange/yellow - the blood stain of the sun's lose. The girl stopped to look inside with a virgin curiosity. Her eyes caught something that grew her confidence wildly. She smiled - almost laughed - and ran into the home.

Manalive...

"Don't you say a word against the 'Swiss Family Robinson,'" cried Innocent with great warmth. "It mayn't be exact science, but it's dead accurate philosophy. When you're really shipwrecked, you do really find what you want. When you're really on a desert island, you never find it desert. If we were really besieged in this garden we'd find a hundred English birds and English berries that we never knew were here. If we were snowed up in this room, we'd be the better for reading scores of books in that bookcase that we don't even know are there; we'd have talks with each other; good, terrible talks, that we shall go to the grave without guessing; we'd find materials for everything: christening, marriage or funeral - yes, even for a Coronation, if we didn't decide to be a republic."

If I learned to live like that....