khier
The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head. There is the illusion of aliveness.
I
have never seen a mountain like this, breaking against the sky in the middle distance. It dominates the plain as an omnipresent silhouette, made distinctive in the bright spring sun. The sky, clear and cloudless, offers no competition for the peak. Effortlessly, breathtakingly, the mountain cuts the horizon with its clarity. I have seen mountains, before. I have climbed them, even. But never have I stood in the shadow of a mountain from miles away and watched it from the plains beneath. I feel small; insignificant, even, as True bounds thoughtlessly through the tall grass. As he breaks it, I can smell the fresh green scent and upturned earth. The feeling is nearly surreal. It takes me too long to realize this is because of the sky’s clearness, and the vast space before me. I am accustomed to islands; cramped spaces; the knowledge that if he walks far enough, I will hit the ocean. Here, it feels as if I could walk for days and never meet the water.
Something new to dream of, Chara whispers to me. The necklace rests in the hollow of my throat; it is a warm, constant heartbeat there.
I smile. But there are no witnesses, besides True. He appears to be eating something disgusting, snuffing through the grass. For that reason, I cannot count him as a witness either. Chara laughs in my mind and I laugh aloud, and continue to walk.
I might have continued to marvel at the mountain, if not distracted suddenly by the a copse of trees nearby. There are wildflowers underfoot, and in the copse of trees the sky becomes obscured by the mottled, vibrant leaves. The copse is deep enough, profound enough, I am covered in darkness. True begins to bark, hackles raised. “Quit it,” I snap; unfortunately, he has never been the most biddable companion, and my command is easily ignored.
I groan under my throat and continue walking. “Hello?” I think I catch a glimpse of motion through the leaves and boughs. “Ignore him. He has no manners.” I smile, stepping forward.
I wonder, says Chara. Where he gets that.
@sid
