CHAPTER 5
THE FAR WEST
* * * * *
"The LORD GOD took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it." - Genesis 2:15
* * * * *
As I proceeded down the ridge, my eyes tried to take in everything at once. From my vantage point, I could see that the Far West swept downward gently towards to Sea of Quiddity (A/N my tribute to Clive Barker) from the ridge upon which I stood. It was a beautiful rolling green, a welcome change to the unrelenting white of the desert. Down on the beach I could see docks and a huge city of spires and towers, a wonderful creation unlike any cities I had ever seen before.
Farmland surrounded the cities all the way up to the ridge, and further outward on either side of the city, which stood on the beach directly in front of me, was a magnificent beach of white sand and pine forests closer to the ridge. All this appeared untouched by Chaos.
In the city I could clearly see people walking through the wide thoroughfares and boulevards. Nothing was crowded, nothing was narrow, and there were no alleys and no slums. How could a place like this exist, when on the other side of the ridge, was death and pain?
The sea sparkled sapphire blue, the grass emerald green, the sea foam a brilliant white. The colours here seemed intensified a thousand times.
I began down the slope, walking amongst what appeared to be rows and rows of grapevines. A few hundred metres ahead I could see a quaint little farmhouse. Maybe they would allow me to stay the night, for I wouldn't reach the city today. The sun was falling, making a beautiful sunset. I got the feeling that all sunsets were beautiful here.
For a second I saw, laid over the current view, a wasteland of rubble, fire and black skies, bodies lying and rotting in the muggy heat, but then the image disappeared, and I was left with the haven of the Far West.
I needed to sit down, so I sat. Or rather fell. My legs felt weak all of a sudden. My eyelids grew heavy, so I closed them and lay back, my head resting on my pack. I quickly fell asleep.
* * * * *
I slept dreamlessly, and when I awoke, I found myself in a bed. I lay in ecstasy, for I had forgotten what it was like to sleep in a soft bed with clean linen and blankets. I was also aware that I was naked under the sheets. I sat up and looked around. No noise came to my ears. The bed was the main furnishing in the room. A window looked out onto the vineyard, so this was the farmhouse. A door of the same wood as the walls was opposite the bed. I had never seen such a wood before. A shelf was nailed to the walls, but it is empty. A desk stands near the bed, and upon it is my journal of this journey westward, an inkbottle and a quill. On the floor next to my bed is my pack, and some clean clothes.
I got out of bed, feeling refreshed and energetic, not stiff or tired at all, as one might expect from such a long trip. Opening the window I found the air was warm, not hot or humid, but nicely warm, suggestive of an enchantment to prevent winter. As I have said, the window looked outward on the vineyard, but now I see it looks in the direction of the ridge. Above and beyond the ridge I can see dark clouds, but they are not moving to ward the Far West. In the blue sky of the West I see a few white clouds, small and fluffy. No sounds come from outside, either. The city must be the major place of business, I reason, because no one is around, and it's late in the morning. However, I do see a man working in a far off field, of rice I think. He toils hard, reaping and sowing.
I put on the clothes, finding the style the same as my previous clothing. A black cloak over a dark blue shirt and sandy-brown travelling pants. I put my boots on, and retrieved my diary and pack, and took the ink.
Opening the door, I found myself in a largish room, with big windows letting a view of the Far West in. This room was also empty. A long table stood in the middle, and a huge unlit candelabrum graced the center. An open door showed a small kitchen. The front door was open as well. Obviously, people trusted each other here far more than in the Old World.
I walked onto the paved path that ran through the vineyards and then into the ricefields, then the orchards, and finally into the city. I walked slowly, taking in the sights. A bird chirped quietly, away in the pine forest. Sound travels very well out here, I thought. The grapevines on either side of me were bright green, a counterpoint to the dark purple grapes. Everything was the epitome of itself. The grapes were the pinnacles of grapes. The vines were the epitomes of vines.
The sun moved steadily overhead as I walked on the paved path. As I walked into the ricefields, my vision was extended. I could now see the forests, my sight no longer obscured by the tall vines. The city was amazing in daylight. The buildings were sandstone, and tall spires and towers glittered with some metallic material in the sun.
I continued on the paved path.
THE FAR WEST
* * * * *
"The LORD GOD took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it." - Genesis 2:15
* * * * *
As I proceeded down the ridge, my eyes tried to take in everything at once. From my vantage point, I could see that the Far West swept downward gently towards to Sea of Quiddity (A/N my tribute to Clive Barker) from the ridge upon which I stood. It was a beautiful rolling green, a welcome change to the unrelenting white of the desert. Down on the beach I could see docks and a huge city of spires and towers, a wonderful creation unlike any cities I had ever seen before.
Farmland surrounded the cities all the way up to the ridge, and further outward on either side of the city, which stood on the beach directly in front of me, was a magnificent beach of white sand and pine forests closer to the ridge. All this appeared untouched by Chaos.
In the city I could clearly see people walking through the wide thoroughfares and boulevards. Nothing was crowded, nothing was narrow, and there were no alleys and no slums. How could a place like this exist, when on the other side of the ridge, was death and pain?
The sea sparkled sapphire blue, the grass emerald green, the sea foam a brilliant white. The colours here seemed intensified a thousand times.
I began down the slope, walking amongst what appeared to be rows and rows of grapevines. A few hundred metres ahead I could see a quaint little farmhouse. Maybe they would allow me to stay the night, for I wouldn't reach the city today. The sun was falling, making a beautiful sunset. I got the feeling that all sunsets were beautiful here.
For a second I saw, laid over the current view, a wasteland of rubble, fire and black skies, bodies lying and rotting in the muggy heat, but then the image disappeared, and I was left with the haven of the Far West.
I needed to sit down, so I sat. Or rather fell. My legs felt weak all of a sudden. My eyelids grew heavy, so I closed them and lay back, my head resting on my pack. I quickly fell asleep.
* * * * *
I slept dreamlessly, and when I awoke, I found myself in a bed. I lay in ecstasy, for I had forgotten what it was like to sleep in a soft bed with clean linen and blankets. I was also aware that I was naked under the sheets. I sat up and looked around. No noise came to my ears. The bed was the main furnishing in the room. A window looked out onto the vineyard, so this was the farmhouse. A door of the same wood as the walls was opposite the bed. I had never seen such a wood before. A shelf was nailed to the walls, but it is empty. A desk stands near the bed, and upon it is my journal of this journey westward, an inkbottle and a quill. On the floor next to my bed is my pack, and some clean clothes.
I got out of bed, feeling refreshed and energetic, not stiff or tired at all, as one might expect from such a long trip. Opening the window I found the air was warm, not hot or humid, but nicely warm, suggestive of an enchantment to prevent winter. As I have said, the window looked outward on the vineyard, but now I see it looks in the direction of the ridge. Above and beyond the ridge I can see dark clouds, but they are not moving to ward the Far West. In the blue sky of the West I see a few white clouds, small and fluffy. No sounds come from outside, either. The city must be the major place of business, I reason, because no one is around, and it's late in the morning. However, I do see a man working in a far off field, of rice I think. He toils hard, reaping and sowing.
I put on the clothes, finding the style the same as my previous clothing. A black cloak over a dark blue shirt and sandy-brown travelling pants. I put my boots on, and retrieved my diary and pack, and took the ink.
Opening the door, I found myself in a largish room, with big windows letting a view of the Far West in. This room was also empty. A long table stood in the middle, and a huge unlit candelabrum graced the center. An open door showed a small kitchen. The front door was open as well. Obviously, people trusted each other here far more than in the Old World.
I walked onto the paved path that ran through the vineyards and then into the ricefields, then the orchards, and finally into the city. I walked slowly, taking in the sights. A bird chirped quietly, away in the pine forest. Sound travels very well out here, I thought. The grapevines on either side of me were bright green, a counterpoint to the dark purple grapes. Everything was the epitome of itself. The grapes were the pinnacles of grapes. The vines were the epitomes of vines.
The sun moved steadily overhead as I walked on the paved path. As I walked into the ricefields, my vision was extended. I could now see the forests, my sight no longer obscured by the tall vines. The city was amazing in daylight. The buildings were sandstone, and tall spires and towers glittered with some metallic material in the sun.
I continued on the paved path.