Gathering in the Mist ~ Chapter 1
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The following is Chapter 1 of the novel
“Gathering in the Mist” by David Bromden.
The chapter below is provided for your enjoyment and is not meant for
duplication or printing. Please keep
this and Copyright laws in mind related to your use of this material.
Thank you,
David Bromden
A
Prologue to “Gathering In The Mist”
Thought, like a stone
cast into a pool of still water, invades the silence of his mind.
He was empty, purged
of all contemplation, and now there are ripples of energy cascading
through.
The stirring is quiet;
merely a weak current in the deep pool of his unconsciousness,
But it is the start of
awareness returning.
His slumber is not
ended, but the stillness is done.
“Gathering in the Mist”, Chapter 1 ~
The Journey Begins
Staring at the
pink glow inside his eyelids, he knows it’s morning. A breeze blows over him and with each gentle gust something
touches his face. He raises a heavy
hand and swipes his cheek, but there’s nothing there. Taking a deep breath, he smells grass. Birds call from every direction and he wonders what they’re doing
in his room.
He peeks an
eye open, but it’s bright, too bright.
With a low moan he shuts it and rubs his eyelid with his palm. Rolling to his side and shading his view, he
squints through the brightness at a sea of waving grass. He’s lying in a field and his back is
drenched with dew. This is not his
bedroom.
At the edge of
the field, there’s a forest. The sun
out here is very bright, but under the trees its light is shady and green. The trees are tall and the forest is deep. The boy knows at once that it’s a rainforest
and that he has awakened in a most unusual place.
“Where am I?” he asks, sitting up. Looking at the flattened grass of his bed he
thinks, “Did I sleep there all night?”
Anxiety urges him to stand. He
pops up easily, not at all stiff from sleeping on the ground. Whatever adventure brought him here hasn’t
hurt him; his body feels strong.
Shrugging at the flat grass, he heads to the trees.
The rainforest
welcomes him with its soft filtered light.
The trees tower above and their branches weave into a leaf canopy so
thick that it nearly blocks out the sky.
Embraced on all sides by the forest, his anxiety fades. Though he can’t recall who he is or how he
came to be here, that doesn’t bother him much.
In fact, it feels normal. But
his strength feels brand new. Something
has changed for the better; his life is about to improve. He’s convinced the memories will return and
when they do, he will recapture yesterday, but for now, his new-found energy
compels him to explore.
He enters a
shady glade that has a rich earthy smell.
Searching the ground, he finds breakfast partially hidden under the leaf
litter. A colony of mushrooms isn’t
exactly ham and eggs but it’ll do this morning. He’s starving. Brushing
debris from one of the largest mushrooms, he breaks off the cap and pops it in
his mouth. It’s fresh and squeaky. Gathering a few more into the tail of his
untucked shirt, he heads deeper into the forest while he eats.
The trees are
awake with life. Some kind of bug,
maybe a cricket, has friends all around him and they are noisy. Their screaming calls join together and
create an off-harmony twang that’s piercing and loud. He walks for some distance, immersed in the sound, before the impact
of it fades. Never completely gone, the
incessant hum electrifies the forest with its energy.
Above the din,
he hears the sound of water splashing.
It’s a shallow brook. The rocks
it passes over are mossy, but the water is clear. There’s a calm place slightly further along and kneeling down at
its edge, he dips his hands in. The
water is cold. Except for the ripples
made by his hands, the pool is peaceful and still. It stretches back against a wall of sloping stone. Cupping a drink to his lips, he finds the
water refreshing and a little sweet. He
drinks several more handfuls before splashing it on his face and neck. He shakes his shirttail to dislodge the soil
and bits of leaf left behind by the mushrooms.
Then lifting the shirt to his face, he dries off.
The rocks on
the other side of the pool resemble a staircase in the way they stagger up the
slope. Rising to the base of a cliff
wall, they invite him to climb. The
cliff is tall and the rock face is craggy, peppered with splits and fissures. Thinking about the view from the top, he
ascends the stairs for a closer look at the cliff. Handholds are plentiful and a flake of rock running diagonally up
the surface offers an easy climb to quite near the top of the rise.
Lifting from
the ground, he pulls himself up along the flake. Hands grasping and feet pushing back, he makes his way to the
fissure’s end. Then with just a few
risky holds, he pulls up and over the rounded edge to a flat area on top.
Above the
trees he can see for miles. His
morning’s field lies east toward the newly risen sun and the lands west are
rainforest speckled with rock walls like the one he’s just climbed. To the north, the hills end in high
mountains, though a mist hides them partially from view. Staring at the mist he wonders out loud,
“What’s in there?” There is something
there, but he’s not sure what. Turning
away, he sees that there are lowlands to the south with tall standing grasses
and areas of thick brush. Shifting his
gaze to the hill he’s surmounted, he explores the ground while deciding what to
do next.
A snake lies
quietly in the sun nearby, unconcerned to have company. Warming itself in a spot with full sunlight,
it’s relaxed, maybe sleeping.
Fascinated by the unexpected closeness of his rock mate, the boy squats
down for a closer look.
“Well hello
there,” he says to the snake. There is
no response. If the snake has heard
him, there certainly is no indication of it.
The boy thinks it might be dead.
“Hmm,” he grunts and then looking at a nearby stick on the ground he
reaches and picks it up.
“I hope you’re
not planning to poke me with that, human,” the snake hisses mildly. The boy turns in time to see a narrow black
forked tongue flick out of the snake’s mouth once or twice. It’s now fully alert and looking directly at
the boy with the stick.
“Huh?” the boy manages
to stammer. He’s dumfounded. Did that reptile really just speak to
him? Staring intently, he watches as
the snake continues to flick its tongue in and out, again and again. It’s tasting the air and sizing up the
boy. It hasn’t moved anything but its
head at this point, still overtly unconcerned with the boy’s presence. “Strange” the boy thinks. But what about today hasn’t been strange?
He realizes
the stick is still in his hand and glancing at it, he wonders if he was indeed
about to poke the sleeping snake. Was
that voice in his head? Was it his
conscience telling him not to be a pest?
It must have been. Tossing the
stick aside, he returns his gaze to the snake.
Is it
smiling? It seems like that snake is
smiling at him. It is certainly looking
at him. He’s not positive he really
noticed the shape of the snake’s mouth before now, but it sure looks like he’s
smiling. The boy returns the snake’s
grin in spite of his doubts.
“No, I won’t
poke you,” he says casually, laughing a little at himself for thinking the
snake had spoken to him. “You’re awake
now anyway.”
“A bit hard to
sleep with all that stomping about you were doing,” the snake jibes with
annoyance.
“What?” the
boy exclaims.
“All you
humans are the same, heavy foots. STOMP
STOMP STOMP. Must you punish the ground
every time you take a step?” the snake complains.
“Huh?” the boy
says, again at a loss for words.
“A bit thick
in the head too. Humans. Bleh.
What a nuisance,” complains the snake.
“Your FEET, boy. Are they made
of STONE? Why do you humans always
stomp around? I felt you coming since
you were at the water’s edge.”
“You felt me
coming?” the boy is totally confused now.
“Great Horned
Toad, boy. Is it really that hard to
understand?” snaps the snake, now impatient with the boy.
“Yes, I mean,
no. What? Wait a minute. You can
talk?” asks the boy.
“Talk? Yes, of course. Don’t you understand me?” the snake replies.
“Yes, but I’ve
never had a conversation with a snake before,” stammers the boy.
“Well that’s
your loss then, and I prefer to be called a viper. Snake is a bit wormly of a term.
Now if you don’t mind moving a bit to your right,” the snake requests.
“What? Huh?” the boy clucks, confused again.
“Your RIGHT
boy. Step aside. You’re blocking my sun. Oh you humans are so stupid. Why do I bother trying? When will you humans learn to consider
anything but your own kind?” the snake hisses.
“Oh, sorry,”
the boy apologizes as he slides to the ground to his right and out of the
snake’s sunlight. He’s confused,
fascinated, and excited all at the same time.
What a wonderful thing to find.
A talking snake! He can’t take
his eyes off the creature. The snake,
sensing his attention, shifts the length of its body slightly and curls his
tail under the mid section. Its skin is
glossy in the sunlight and marked with dark triangles. The belly becomes visible as it shifts and
its pink tint is very different from the reds and yellows on its back. It’s quite beautiful.
The snake
settles again and seems to be readying for another nap. Entranced, the boy realizes it’s been
several minutes since anyone spoke and he longs to hear more from this amazing
creature. He’s not in a hurry to be
called stupid again, however, so he searches for something good to talk
about.
“So what kind
of a snake are you?” he finally asks.
“Viper,” the
snake hisses back.
“Oh right,
viper. What kind of a viper are you,
sir?” the boy asks, adding the sir to be extra polite.
“Questions?”
the snake exhales the response with great exasperation. It is abundantly clear that he’s not
interested in conversation.
“Um, yes
sir. I’d like to know more about you if
you don’t mind,” the boy persists.
“Of course you
do, human,” the snake replies with a series of tongue flicks. “But I’ve not finished my harvest and I need
to be still. Must you vex me now? Humans, always thinking of yourselves.”
“Your
harvest?” the boy asks.
“The SUN,
boy. The sun. Do you think I lay here for fun?” it snaps back. “Don’t you know about the morning harvest?”
“No, I’m sorry
sir, I don’t,” he replies.
“I harvest the
heat from the morning sun and store it in my body through the day. It is my energy. Now shut up and let me finish,” the snake explains.
Not wishing to
anger the creature further, the boy sits still and waits. He feels the warmth of the sun on his bare
arms and face. He closes his eyes and
tilts his head up, attempting his own harvest.
Next to him, the snake quietly does the same.
Time passes
and the solar meditation fills him with a soothing peace. Faintly he hears some leaves rustle and
opening his eyes, he glances toward the now departing snake. Having finished its harvest, it is quietly
attempting to leave the boy. It’s half
way under the brush nearby already. The
boy lunges forward in hopes of stopping the snake from leaving without first
talking more.
Startled by
the boy’s sudden movement, the snake coils faster than it would seem possible
and launching forward, it plunges its fangs deep into the boy’s upper arm. Releasing the bite, it drops to the ground
and lightning quick, slips into the brush, leaving the shocked boy alone on the
rock, aghast. He doesn’t know what he
was going to do to stop the snake, but he’s sure he wasn’t going to hurt it in
any way. Arm throbbing and feelings
hurt from the snake’s unconcerned betrayal, he rolls to his back on the ground
and lifts his arm to try and look at the bite.
He has to
twist his arm in order to see. There is
a small red dent, but there’s no blood.
Maybe only one fang penetrated the skin. Touching it, he finds the area swollen and it starts to
burn. This is bad. He knows this is bad.
The burn moves swiftly
up his arm toward the shoulder. Panic
takes hold and he tries to get up.
Pushing off the ground with his uninjured arm, he manages to sit. He’s dizzy, so dizzy, and tired. He tries to think, but his mind is
mush. Slumping back down, his head hits
the rock with a thud.
From somewhere he can’t
see, he hears a woman’s voice say, “There you go now, that’s dose number
two.” Confusion sets in only briefly
before he completely falls unconscious.