I will be posting freestyle stuff here, just some jottings which come to mind occasionally.


nothing major, mostly improvising as it were.

i'm going with the high fantasy genre with the one i just did, high fantasy is when a story is set in an imaginary world not subject to rational laws- say for example, a mountain made of a giant almond which the main characters chipped parts off to snack on.

i'd have preferred starting with low fantasy but that would have entailed setting it in the real world, and adding the fantasy elements- not quite ready to do that yet, what i had in mind has to be in a completely otherworldly environment.

i could be wrong, but i think low fantasy might be a tad more difficult than high fantasy. Anyway, i might still change this opinion later.

some of my restrictions [guidelines] in wrting these pieces include

- no sex, ie no strong sexual language. If romance is involved, it should be described in general terms, using finesse and literary lingo.

I think there's enough sex talk everywhere here, a time out is ok.

- no crude language or vulgar descriptions.

- etc. will update as or if necessary.

I had meant to type just one paragraph, but somehow did a page [wish this could be my consistent pace?]. Might need to compress later, perhaps.

The glass forest

The trees were square shaped, short and squat, and faintly luminous. They were made of transparent glass, with amorphous lines appearing on occasion, zigzagging under the crystalline exterior, and sometimes appearing to have a purpose, other times not.

He discovered you could pull a tree up by the roots (this was actually very easy), and move it some distance away, maybe about four to five feet sideways. The roots appeared like a mass of entangled and multicoloured wires, grouped together in different hues and branching out in five different directions.

Once a tree was uprooted and moved to a different location, it connected with the underground grid as soon as it was set down. How this exactly happened he had no clue yet, he would have to look into it later.

He pulled up a glass tree and set it down a little to the left. It reconnected immediately with the greater root underground and a cacophony of activity appeared briefly on the trunk.

Hmm, he thought, that was interesting.

For some reason, carrying the tree had tired him a bit, and he decided to get a little rest.

He sat down with his back against a tree and was better able to view his surroundings.

He now noticed the forest was being occupied by other creatures. Creatures moving on wheels and rocking back and forth as they peered intensely at the trees. Every once in a while, a creature would extend a long, bony tentacle and touch the glass, sending the amorphous lines into overdrive. He looked closely at the creature closest to him, watching it communicate with the tree and it seemed the zigzagging lines separated into regular patterns when touched by a creature tentacle.

Other creatures had antennas which waved about wildly, but even these stiffened and poked at a tree when receiving a signal from a tentacle. Or perhaps it was a tentacle getting signals from an antenna- at this stage, it was too early to tell.

just a reminder:

**feelgood feedback not really needed ( i mean the oh wow you made my day type, or ah, this is da bomb, etc etc)**

please do not post if you intend to derail the thread.

you also do not have to open said thread, thank you.

i'm writing for myself, not an audience.

So following.

an old wise man




There was some movement close to the glass bushes behind his tree. He leaned forward, looking sideways and glimpsed a shadow close by. It was cast by a different kind of tree, taller than the ones he’d been observing, and rather more opaque.

He glanced at the creatures once again. They’d barely noticed him, and were still intently communicating with their individual trees- antennas and tentacles flitting over the running lines inside each one.

Well, he thought, I can always come back and watch them after I see what’s over there.

So he stood up and sauntered over to where he’d first heard the movement.

This tree was not like the glass trees he’d seen previously. It was dense, softer and not as crystalline. It had wavy, cream, oval little shapes attached to its upper regions, and they flowed gently in the breeze which sprang up, as if they danced to some invisible music.

He was puzzled by this tree, but as he was about to investigate it further, he noticed the source of the movement.

It was an old man. He sat on a low tree branch, gently stroking the ovals by turns, then striking the tree trunk at intervals. The man interrupted him mid-stroke.

What are you doing, sir? Why are you not one of the creatures here? Do you know anything about them? Who do they work for? What are they doing? Why is your tree different from theirs?

The old man paused and turned directly to look at the man. He noticed even though the old man was looking at him, yet somehow he still got the impression he faced a different direction. He did a double take, and found the odd impression remained.

The old man had an expression of intense sagacity and deep learning. His hair was closely curled, his eyes intense and profound. When he finally spoke, it was like his eyes were speaking through his mouth.

Hello young man. Have you seen the jivey, other, old man around here? It seems to me you’re unsure which one of us you ought to have met first.

Sit down again, said the old man. Let me tell you a story.

A story? Our main character asked.

Yes, a story. Isnt that how all these narratives go?


The old wise man settled himself more firmly on the branch, gazed around at the creatures busily engrossed with their trees, and motioned for the younger man to sit down. This he did, reflecting how this was his second time in one day. He also noted, with some surprise, how he’d barely noticed the old wise man had stopped stroking the little ovals and striking the tree.

It seemed, when the old man started talking, activity in the glass forest almost imperceptibly, slowed down. The younger man was not certain, but it appeared to him there were others listening. He couldn’t be sure if these were the creatures at the tree trunks, or different beings he could not see.


The old wise man cleared his throat. Pay attention now, he said. You do not have to worry about the listeners, for now. Besides, you are not even sure if there are any.

**i have the story i want to write, still considering if i can go ahead or switch to another one**

**also, i thought of making the old wise man a drummer, drumming on top of the tree. Alternatively, he could also have been weaving a basket. The latter doesnt seem suitable at this point, while the former is still being considered**

Ill say go wit ur gut instinct. If it says give the old man a basket or a drum, why not? The whole point of writing lit is to CREATE something from NOTHING. Esp in this level of imagery/fiction. Anything can go. The old man may turn out to have a 'gurgling stream of water' for legs and it'll be alright. Just make sure ur tenses/syntax etc etc are right. Stretch your imagination and make it exciting enough for us to wish to follow! Thats how all those great 'folklores' and 'myths' are made. However i must point out that uv forgotten ur parentheses(" while quoting characters.Or Are u trying to do a pure narrative? Also, i like the way u let us into ur thoughts. Most writers hav difficulty with that. Still, u cud make the story a bit clearer, settling some areas of suspense while letting other areas play out. As in, are those really trees or creatures? Whats the diff btw the first tree and the old man's tree, if any? That sort of thing. And by all means start another story if you want to, you'll find out that it will all fit together at some point. Our brain is funny like that.
Long story short- pls dont stop now, Im hooked!!

white mosquito: Ill say go wit ur gut instinct. If it says give the old man a basket or a drum, why not? The whole point of writing lit is to CREATE something from NOTHING. Esp in this level of imagery/fiction. Anything can go. The old man may turn out to have a 'gurgling stream of water' for legs and it'll be alright. Just make sure ur tenses/syntax etc etc are right.

thanks for the feedback.

i'd originally intended the old wise man to have wheels for legs, but i think water is also good.

i'll work it into the story at some point, when i revise.

Stretch your imagination and make it exciting enough for us to wish to follow!

hmm, as per excitement, i wanted the pace to be a bit slow, since its a meditative piece. If it has too much excitement, i might wonder if i'm doing it right.

However i must point out that uv forgotten ur parentheses(" while quoting characters.

i'm still freestyling for now. I might add parentheses later, i havent decided yet. I tested it with parentheses before posting, it has a different feel when you add that.


the lack of parentheses makes things a bit trickier, i agree, i'm working on how the final draft should look.

Or Are u trying to do a pure narrative?

maybe, something like that. Not really sure.

I have to look up some of these techniques.

Also, i like the way u let us into ur thoughts.

dont quite get this part.

Most writers hav difficulty with that.

hmm

Still, u cud make the story a bit clearer, settling some areas of suspense while letting other areas play out.

ok, will work on it when revising.

As in, are those really trees or creatures? Whats the diff btw the first tree and the old man's tree, if any? That sort of thing.

1. the trees and creatures are separate.

2. the forest is made up of glass trees. The old man's tree is not.

I also havent decided where to place the old man's tree yet- at the edge of the forest or in the middle.

And by all means start another story if you want to, you'll find out that it will all fit together at some point. Our brain is funny like that.
Long story short- pls dont stop now, Im hooked!!

once again, thanks so much for the feedback, its really appreciated.


I'm trying to think of a format for the old man's story- what i had in mind was something of a rather sensitive nature, might be offensive to some [nothing to do with nl] on a personal level, not sure. So i have to figure out how to do this and what exactly to write.

the old wise man's story:


The Lovelorn Maiden

In another forest, far from here, there once lived a maiden. She was your average maiden, with the features common to every maiden, so no, I would not say she stood out exceptionally for any reason.

This young maiden had a plant which she cultivated with care, it was her pride and joy, and she watered the seed with tears, sowed it with joy, and watched it grow.

A young strapping man was her companion. He loved her fiercely, and indeed she loved him back. Together they grew the plant, and without a doubt, the plant responded to their care. Its leaves grew broad, its stem grew wide, and luscious pearls of dew drops appeared fresh each morning on the plant without fail.

However, the maiden’s companion was getting restless. His blood stirred uneasily, pulling up passions from deep within him, over which he felt he had no control. He did not want to dance to the beat of ancient rhythms, but he found his feet doing a jig anyway.

There was a tension in the air which felt palpable. The man felt it, the maiden felt it, everyone in the forest felt it. The birds seemed to sing less, the roosters crowed with a hint of urgency, the livestock hurried home earlier and earlier each day. Fear had come to the forest. Even the snakes seemed to slither through the undergrowth as if fleeing from evil, terrified.

An unseen menace hovered, unbidden, unwelcome and unbroken.

The maiden kept watering her plants, tending them with care, still showering them with love.

might still remove this sentence:

He loved her fiercely, and indeed she loved him back.

not sure if its necessary for the context of the tale.

I love the way you describe the scenes and characters *following*

thanks.

still working on the draft.

Fear grew within the forest. Everyday it became more and more visible until even the leaves on the trees quivered in it. People walked about dangerously afraid, not sure who was friend or foe. The maiden did the best she could with her plants, her companion helped out but he was not as encouraging as before. The maiden noticed this and it troubled her. One day she decided to talk to him.

Lover, she asked, what is this burden you have, and why does it trouble you so? True, there is fear in the land, but I wish it would not touch our forest.

Her companion looked at her sadly, he knew she didn’t understand. The call within him was too ancient to remain unheeded, not to listen would mean a separation from all he held dear. His choices were as limited as they were certain. He reached out and hugged his maiden. They stood together for a while, drawing strength from each other, then something, a sound, a glimpse of movement in the undergrowth, a premonition of what was happening to others he held dear, shook him and broke the embrace.

The maiden wiped her tears and, comforted somewhat, they went over to the plants to water them.

The next day, her companion broke the news to her, the forest was changing. New creatures were moving in, bringing in unknown, ancient enmities and mores which did not allow for a love such as theirs, or a partnership like they had, of tending plants. He was going to find a better forest, together with some of their forest people who had already left. Would the maiden like to follow him after they had established themselves in the new place. He would take some of the plants and care for them until she came.

The maiden thought about her answer, and gave him her blessing. She watched him leave , then turned around and walked slowly back, as they both faded into the mist, in their different directions. She knew it wouldn’t be long until they were together again.

The Beginning of a Journey

The old wise man stopped, looking at the younger man thoughtfully and shaking his head. The young man was rather perplexed but did not know what to make of the old wise man’s action. Moreover, the story had left him confused. He had many questions to ask, but wasn’t sure the old man would give him the answers. So, he decided to let things be for the time being.

They both sat in silence for a while, the old wise man on his branch on his tree, and the young man carefully in front of him, by the tree trunk. After a while, the old man spoke.

Young man, you had better get going, you have a long journey ahead of you, and the sooner you get on the road, the better.

The young man opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, and merely asked the old wise man where he was going and how best to start the journey.

Good, said the old man. I see you’re learning fast, you refused to argue over what cannot be changed. Rather, you save your strength for what you may encounter along the way. That is a good strategy.

The alert young man waited to hear more.

Walk some distance from here, said the old man, in a straight, not curved line, following that distant star. You will arrive at a coast, a sea shore, a bay. There will be someone there to guide you and take you across the shore to what lies ahead. You will arrive at a town, a city and more forests, journeying through each of these and encountering different things and elements along the way. This is the general picture, you will experience the specifics as you go on. I will be moving on now, don’t forget to encounter the other, jivey old man who is somewhere in these forests or beyond. You will know him by his ability to cut a caper.

While the old man was talking, something swam across our hero’s line of vision. He thought he was imagining things, and looked closer. Yes, it was a fish, which seemed to be swimming where the old man’s legs were. A closer inspection revealed a school of about ten small fishes, swimming determinedly round and round in a circle. While he stared in amazement, one of them winked at him.

The young man leaped back, and as he did so, the old man laughed in amusement.

Yes my son, he said. My legs are made of water. Look closely and you will see how that is possible.

The young man looked, and saw each of the old man’s legs, was a whirlpool of clear, swirling water. The fishes were swimming round and round with the flow, and they seemed to be enjoying it too. The old man’s legs were made of pillars of water, which tapered down to form his two feet. The water swirled continuously round, from top to bottom, and from the feet to the thighs and back again. (The old man was wearing shorts). It was an amazing sight.

The young man and the lady , or the lady by the boat


The young man walked on. He could see the sea shore some distance in front of him, and he quickened his pace in anticipation. It didn’t take too long to get there, and he went directly to a canoe, which also happened to be the only one, tethered to a post by the beach. A lady was in it, holding an oar.

You need a ride across, she asked.

Yes, the man said.

Then jump in and we’ll get going, said the lady.

The young man sat in the boat while the lady unhitched it, walked over to the back, got in and began rowing. In no time at all, they were sailing across the ocean and the lady was humming a tune. His offer of assistance was refused, because, the lady informed him, there was only one paddle and he did not know the way. Fair enough. The man asked where they were going.

We’re headed towards the sea of music, after which I’ll take you to the sea of education, she replied. From there, you’ll reach the shore and go to a forest which is some distance from there.

A sea of music? The young man thought about this, didn’t sound like a bad idea. He lay back and decided to enjoy the ride, possibly the sea of music would be soothing melodies swirling around him while he wafted across to the shore. It wasn’t too long before he drifted to sleep, soothed by the gentle swirling of the waves.

He woke up, startled, in response to a sudden movement of the boat. It rocked crazily from side to side, and almost seemed to have a mind of its own. The lady was paddling frantically now, away from a growing cloud which appeared to gain ground with each paddle stroke. The sky on the left was dark grey, filled with foreboding storm clouds, the sky to the right was clear. The boat rocked madly in between, unsure which direction it was headed. The lady was paddling to the right, but after a while, she gasped and stared at her oar. He heard her mutter something that sounded like “Oh dear”.

He sat up and yelled across the boat at her.

What did you say?

My paddle broke, was her reply.

Your paddle broke, meaning. . . ?

It means we’re drifting into the storm, I’m sorry! She shouted back across the gathering squall. The storm was right above them now, the boat was rising and falling on the waves, sometimes on a flat stretch of water, then the next minute, lifted right off the sea and thrown in another direction, landing sometimes on one side, sometimes on another. He felt sick and dazed from the constant motion and did not know what to do. He could barely see what the lady was doing now, he caught a few glimpses of her paddling frantically with half an oar, and they were both drenched with water. At some point, she lost the half oar, and simply lay down on the bottom of the boat, fatigued. He decided to do the same.

The storm raged all around them, and it seemed like hours before they finally felt some calm.


They were drifting across an open sea now. He sat up and looked around him, he could see nothing but miles of water, and an uneasy calm. He looked around for the lady. She had also sat up and was wringing the water out of her clothes. He noticed the bottom of the boat had taken in some water, so he began scooping up some with his hands, to throw over the side of the boat. After a while, the lady joined him, and they worked together. Neither felt in the mood to talk.


When most of the water was gone, he sat back, exhausted.

The sea of smells


The young man drifted on in this manner, while the lady sat back anxiously and looked out over the sea. She seemed to be searching for her missing paddle, possibly hoping it would just bob up over the waves somewhere.

Out of the blue, a smell hit the young man’s nostrils with an intensity that made him bolt up and stare wildly at his surroundings. It was a reek that increased in volume until he was trounced by it. He gasped, more from surprise at the stench, than anything else.

What is going on now? he managed to croak at the lady, who by this time was looking at him with anxiety as what was happening slowly dawned on her. She started frantically paddling with her hands, trying to swerve the boat sideways, away from its current path.

Oh my God, she blurted, the storm must have blown us into the sea of smells.

He stared at her, dumbfounded. The sea of smells? What was that?

The smell had lifted a little bit by now, and the air was clearer. He sat up, relieved, and slowly unflared his nostrils. The smell was entirely gone now, as a matter of fact, it had been replaced by a pleasant flowery aroma. The lady was staring intently at the water.

This sea is known for its smells, she said. It produces different smells. Unfortunately, we drifted into a nastier part, but I’ve steered us into a narrow current with a pleasanter smell. These currents are usually purple or green in colour.

That was interesting information. The young man pondered it carefully. Well, as long as the original stench was gone, he guessed he was good for the rest of the ride.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he was once again prostrate from a mighty smell that came out of thin air. He was technically knocked out from the stench, and could see the lady frantically paddling the boat into a nearby green stretch. It seemed they had drifted windward to the smell part while she’d been talking, she told him. She would try not to let the boat drift again, she said.

However good her intentions were, she was quite limited without an oar, and the boat drifted several times to the odoriferous parts over the next hour. The lady always tried to compensate for this by paddling towards a green or purple current, but without an oar, it was extremely difficult even with the man’s assistance. But better to paddle even if with limited results, than to remain in the odoriferous zone. So they kept at it in the meantime.

After a while, he sighted something in the distance. It seemed to be moving towards them with a fluidic motion and was getting closer as he watched. He called the lady over . They’re dolphins, she said. Coming towards us.

They were indeed dolphins, about six of them, and he admired the way they rose and flowed with the water in fluid motion. They leaped out of the sea at intervals, gracefully falling back into it with style. They kept up a determined chirping the whole time, and he didn’t doubt they were talking to each other. The one in front seemed to be pushing something forward with it’s nose. They were close enough now for him to see their faces. What the leader was pushing towards them, was the broken half of the paddle which had been lost in the storm.

The lady was overjoyed at its recovery, and thanked the dolphins with so many words after retrieving the oar from the water. The dolphins just grinned at her and slipped back, diving under the boat and resurfacing on the other side of it. They swam off, and he could still hear the chirping for a few minutes before it faded away.

The lady was paddling in earnest now. The top half of the broken oar was still unusable, but she was making do with the lower part. They were gaining ground this time, moving away into another part of the sea, and she gratefully accepted his offer of assistance and let him paddle.

They took turns at it, and in this manner, slowly weaved through the ocean gradually. The journey was interspersed with bad smells with intervals of clear air and flowery aromas whenever they hurriedly steered to a green or purple current, but for now it was the best they could do.

**tried to write descriptions for the smell, no luck**

maybe later.

Just an observation- dont u think 'the wise old man' sounds better than the ' old wise man'?
Also..... r u an Enid Blyton fan? Just curious.

@ tpia, lovely stuffs your got out here.

A moonlight sail

They sailed on through a calm sea. Dawn turned to dusk, then the moon rose, shining with a soft, fierce, bright light which bathed their surroundings with an ethereal beauty, casting elastic shadows and throwing outlines into sharp relief, together with the nooks and corners of the boat.

The man amused himself by watching the ripples flow from the paddle to the water, ever widening circles which melted into wider ones, and seemed to stretch to infinity. It was a beautiful sight.

The moon hung like an enormous pearl in a black, inky sky, he could see the shadows and craters which were spread on its surface. They almost felt close enough to touch.

A light breeze sprung up. He felt it caressing his neck and gently fluffing his clothes. He looked over at the lady- he hadn’t noticed she had laid down the paddle and like him, was staring over the water and now and then, up at the moon.

The silence was broken by an occasional sigh, whether from her, him or the water, he didnt know.

This is beautiful she said.

He had to agree.

He noticed even though no one was paddling anymore, there were still ripples in the water. He stared down, trying to peer into the depths. There were dark shadows under the boat, flitting around frequently like flashes of some form of liquid light, alternating between flashes and shadows.

Every so often, a larger shadow would swim leisurely by, breaking through the silver reflection of the moon on water, yet not slowing down or showing its face long enough to be seen and identified.

The man felt drowsy, rocked by the rhythm of the rippling water, and he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

white mosquito: Just an observation- dont u think 'the wise old man' sounds better than the ' old wise man'?

"wise old man" is the standard term, "old wise man" has another connotation which helps me focus when writing about him.

Also..... r u an Enid Blyton fan? Just curious.

i've read enid blyton, why do you ask?

some similarities- eg the tree?

Forests are a common theme in fantasy.

Freiburger: @ tpia, lovely stuffs your got out here.

danke.

didnt i make a post here previously?

hmm.

anyway, i have an outline of another story in mind, just have to find the time and effort to put pen to paper and write it down.

the synopsis is something along the lines of pride and prejudice, but a nigerian version, with the two main male characters being a tall dark handsome guy (mr Ike) and his tall, blonde (sorry light skinned), handsome friend (mr Tex).

Not sure if its been done before in a nigerian setting, but like i said, i'm just writing for leisure, not an audience per se. Something to amuse myself, so to speak.

As the first line of P&P goes,

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune job, must be in want of a wife".

So, i would like to play around with that statement, in a nigerian context. Hope i can eventually get around to it.

Still havent found a character to portray mr Collins though.


Will be back to continue the previous story, just jotted this down as a personal reminder.

What the young man learnt while he rowed


He woke up to see the early sunrise throwing rays across the horizon. The sun hung beautifully above the water, a giant golden orb covered in a soft mist which seemed to rise from the ocean ripples.

He grabbed the paddle from where it lay in the middle of the boat, and earnestly started rowing. He loved the fresh breeze blowing in his face and the slight spray from the paddle’s motion through the water.

The lady woke up shortly after, and nodded in his direction. He nodded back, and turned to his rowing once again. She bent slightly down and scooped up water to wash her face. Then she sat back and seemed ready for conversation.

Where are we now he asked.

Not sure she replied. We were headed towards the other seas but I’m not sure how far we might be off course. We should know where we are, shortly.

He thought about this.

Well, he said, since we’re sailing the ocean, on a journey to a destination , are there creatures such as sirens, mermaids, and the like around here somewhere? They’re in most stories of this type.

Hmm, she replied. That’s Greek mythology, not this one.

Can you describe this place, he asked. I don’t know much about it.

Ok, said the lady. I’m not sure where exactly we are, but as I pointed out before, we should find out shortly. I do know that somewhere around these parts, are the Plains of Beauty, the woods with the jivey old man, the town that history forgot, and the town that history always remembers.

Wow said the young man, rather amazed by what lay ahead. That’s quite a list.

I know, said the lady. There is also the Farm of Broods.

What’s that last one, he asked.

It’s a farm where broods ripen and mature in their pods. They are picked at maturity, by harvesters who are also the ones tending the farms all along.

Anticipating his next question, she went on: the broods are cared for severally until they grow and start their various occupations. I believe you’ve met some already, in the forest with the old wise man. The creatures by the glass trees.

Yes, I did see them, the young man said.

This was all very interesting, so the young man pondered on it for a while, thoughtfully rowing his paddle and watching the water swell and fall with its motion. The lady was watching him, and her expression was rather ambiguous, he thought she seemed poignant, but when he looked up at her, she quickly put on a smile and looked more cheerful.

Hmm, he thought, I wonder why she seemed that way, maybe I should ask her about herself. She does give the impression of being rather private though, not sure she wouldn’t consider it intrusive if I did so.

He debated with himself for a while, staring helpfully at the water.

He experiences the Seas


He decided to talk to her, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, music wafted across the breeze. It was a soft lullaby, and he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

Oh great, said the lady, so we’re in the sea of music after all, I was afraid we’d drifted totally off course and might be getting somewhere else, like close to the Cave of Dislike.

The young man decided not to ask what the Cave of Dislike was. He could guess and that was sufficient for now.

The music was changing, as they paddled. It seemed they’d left the lullaby behind and were now in more rigorous waters. The tune had transformed to a rigorous, choppy melody and the water appeared restless, in return. Paddling was harder for him now, and he broke out in a light sweat.

The lady asked if he wanted to switch places, he replied that wasn’t necessary right now but probably in a little while.

Where is the music coming from, he asked.

I’m not sure, she said, but I think it’s the water currents. Either the music originates from the current or the water simply carries it along, coming from somewhere else. Or could be a combination of both, we haven’t been able to figure this out yet.

The music was getting fainter while he rowed. He took that to mean they were leaving the sea of music and moving into different waters. He was proved right when he noticed a school of fish just ahead of the boat. They were moving rhythmically through the water, stopping now and then to face his direction. They seemed to be looking at the boat during those moments, but he couldn’t be sure.

Tell me, he asked the lady. Are we in the sea of education?

Yes we are, she replied.

And the sea of education involves schools of fish, and those fish over on that side of the boat are learning about us right now.

Well, yes she said. You’re quite right.

The school of fish was fading away into the distance, and he could see their bespectacled leader swimming purposefully through the water.

He caught sight of another school of fish, they were swimming round some algae which they examined interestedly. He thought he heard words drifting through the water, but he couldn’t be sure. He strained his ears to hear more. He picked up “sunlight”, “food”, “energy”, “photosynthesis”, “food chain”, "bigger predator”, “ecosystem”, and had to turn around to ask the lady if the fish were talking.

Can you hear them, she asked.

I think I can, he responded.

Well then, she said, if you feel you can hear what they’re saying, then maybe you can.

She didn’t offer any further explanation, and he gave up trying to ask.

They rowed on and met more schools of fish, differing in size, colour and structure, he noticed some followed the boat while others observed it from a distance.

Then they rowed slowly out of the sea of education (he could still hear the occasional music wafting over the ocean), and everything was quiet. The sun was starting to descend now, still a golden orb of intense brilliance and reflected brightly on the water.

Is that the sun’s usual colour, he asked her.

Yes, why do you ask, she responded.

I just thought it might be a different colour, since everything here is different, he said.

No, the sun is the same, said the lady. At least, the colour’s the same.

Hmm, he said, and continued rowing. The sea before them stretched out like an open plain, there were fewer ripples that he could perceive, and over in the distance, the water was calm and flat, almost like a lake.

The lady followed his gaze and knew what he was thinking.

The sea in the distance is called the sea of life, she said. That is where life forms begin, but we wont be going that way. Very few people are actually able to get into that part, its protected by a very strong current which also blocks entry. Far beyond it, where the mist rises, is the sea of creation, also off limits but beside the sea of life.

Ah, I see, said the young man. So, now, we’re headed for the Plains of Beauty.

That is correct, she replied.

**interlude**

The Prism

They sailed on for the rest of the day, and now he could see a shoreline on the horizon. The trees grew closer as they steadily rowed. In a short while, shorter than he expected, they pulled up and the lady anchored the boat.

Lets sit here for a while she said. You have a long journey ahead of you.

He agreed and sat on the warm sand. It was good to feel the earth beneath his feet again. He thoughtfully ran his fingers through the sand and poured it back on the ground in a little waterfall, one made of sand.

The lady walked over to where he was, and sat beside him.

She was holding a small object and he looked closer, trying to see what it was.

I have something for you, she said. She held the object out, he saw it was a small triangular piece of glass, smooth and shining as if she’d just wiped it clean.

Look through this prism she said. She held it up and he could gaze clearly through it.

What do you see? She asked.

She was holding it up to the light now, and he could see the clarity of the glass, but not much else. Maybe he wasn’t looking at it from the right angle, so he moved a bit to the side, trying to get a better view. She also adjusted her position a little bit.

Look, she said. When I hold it up like this, you’ll observe the light rays entering into the prism. Now, do you notice the colour in the prism.

He could see a rainbow of colours inside the glass, and he nodded in agreement.

The light goes in as one, she said. Then it comes out as many. The same way with anything you hear. This is the relativity of truth- it has many colours, a story is interpreted in different ways by the hearer. Disseminated, so to speak.

This was interesting, and the man reflected deeply on this while the lady placed the prism on his palm and closed his fingers over it.

Keep it she said. It will help you in your journeyings.

Hmm, he replied. My journeyings.

He put the piece of glass in his pocket, and they looked at each other for a moment.

Well, the lady said after a long pause, I’ll be going back now. I have to row back to where we first met, by the old man’s forest.

But I don’t wish for you to leave, the man wanted to say. I’d like us to travel together. I’m not familiar with this terrain.

That was what he wanted to say, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to utter those words. He did not know why.

Instead, he just nodded, and looked over at the trees, studying them.

Ok, he said. Thanks.

She understood what he was trying to say, and what he had meant to say but couldn’t give voice to.

He watched her walk over to the boat, get on it and paddle away.

He felt rather lonely but set his face towards the new land and started walking towards it.

^**to be retweaked**

Are your updates all one story?

Nice work though. I didn't understand the first update about glass trees.

yes, the updates so far are one story, though i originally meant to just freestyle.

thanks for your comment.

the glass trees seem to be puzzling a lot of people, will review it when i work on the final draft i suppose.