Hello everybody . . . I have been so busy with my studies and reseach that I
have not been able to send anything for at least three weeks.
Robin, I am still trying to send some stuff to you, though I am so busy that I
almost never am at my computer for more than a couple of minutes (and that is
usually replying to work-related messages).
For everyone else, here is my second part of the island stories . . . don't
expect another one for a little while. I don't forsee any spare time for me .
. . even to sleep. {wry smirk}
And so, I give you the uncomplete rendition of the background of "RAIN"
(anyone who wishes to take this and finish it is welcome to do so as long as
you send me the final result)
------------------------
In the last rays of the evening sun, I see the day coming to an end. I reflect
on the events that I have just experienced, and the abject fear slowly fades
away. My body shivers and vibrates with the knowledge of walking on the edge
of death. From that place I came. From that place my dreams haunt me. From
that place all things flow. Life, as it has been, is over. And now that at
the proper time and place, after so long and hard a journey, I have come to
this point . . . I am finally able to control these thoughts that are haunting
my mind. I can finally reflect.
It was a clear steel-blue day. The air and sea were hardly separable in that
all-pervading grayness. The pensive twighlight was pure and soft as it moved
through the approaching night. The murderous sea heaved with long, strong,
lingering swells. In this way, the world around me prophesied the symphony of
the leviathans in the deep.
My name is Ja'el. I have traveled through the paths of space and time through
experience and knowledge. This story is our legacy.
This voyage started on the island of Rain. We have met many others in the vast
waters of our world, and once upon a time we were a simple people. However,
time and unforeseen occurrence have changed us once for all time. It began not
too long ago, considering the stream of time in which we exist. We were not a
people that beg to be written about. There was not one among us that really
wanted to be asked about our lives.
So how should I start our story? . . . for there has to be one, otherwise I
would not be writing to you. Once upon a time is how it begins . . . Once
upon a time, a young girl was swimming on the edge of the world. No, that is
not how to start it. You don’t know very much about us, do you?
We live in a world of water. That is the best way to see our home. I don’t
think any of us knew much about it. Some saw the world as an infinite field of
water, though some imagined that somewhere the water would fall off of the
world. We were an ignorant people, but that did not last forever.
My people lived on an island. We called our home Rain. The rest of the world,
to us, came to be known through other island peoples. Somehow, islands had
their own journeys and passed each other from time to time. However,
gradually, the ancient myths and fears of islands falling off the waters into
oblivion were replaced by the modern ideas of space and worlds and astronomy.
Now, Rain is more advanced than most of the primitive peoples that we meet in
our wanderings. And with that introduction, I can begin my story . . .
What do you want to know about us? How about the story that changed our world
forever? In our world, there was a young girl named Anakristina who lived on
the edge of Rain. She was fond of the waters and more than once was almost
lost into the vast foreverness of the expanse. She was young and beautiful . .
. and brilliant. And she was the first of the many to learn of the coming
destruction of our home.
How did this happen? Exactly what our scientists are doing to prevent this
Armageddon? These things I do not know. But I can tell you what I do know.
What Anakristina saw during one of her sojourns into the deep blackness led to
the creation of the city of sanctuary, the underwater city. The legend of Kris
reminds us how young and how old children can be.
The thought of our world, from then on, changed forever in the minds of the
people. Our home was a planet, an island. Quiet hours on an island paradise,
flaoting on a clear pond ringed by a bowl of tree-covered hills. To us, that
is home. Not a globe thousands of kilometers around covered with the waters of
the murky deep, but a forest and grassy slopes . . . a house hidden at the
crest of the hill . . . high in the trees a bird singing. Outside of our own
realm was nothing that had ever really mattered to us until . . .
I have had no corrections on this since I have been swamped with work.
It could stand to be corrected in coherency first . . .
and I will still try to read and respond to your msg when I can . . . if anyone
sends anything else . . .
your friend
the warrior-poet and white knight
Scott
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