Chris Erdman - Whats Hid Beneath the Bones of This Great Tree: An Epic Journey

I find myself out on a broad but sterile plain.

I sit astride a horse. We plod along a well-worn path. Though a large and handsome beast, my mount seems dull and follows aimlessly the only path in sight. It seems depressed and out of life.

Since I am only waking up, Im bound to let the creature stay the course till I make some sense of what I ought to do. Around me, grey and barren hills. Not a single tree or shrub. Nothing dares stand up at all. A stagnant creek runs toward the middle of the plain, draining to a foul lake. Not a single bird to sing or fly.

A boy plays in a field of greenmirage or memory, I cannot tell. A blue balloon excites his energies, as much as any friend could do. Joy quivers through his small, lithe form; wild exuberance painting him as red in face as sky-blue is his toy. An angry shout, a shot rings out, a man with smoldering gun. The balloon lies dead upon the Earth as the man berates his son. The child drops his head, then turns, and walks stiffly toward his lifeless friend. A shudder quavers through his fragile frame; he contains the inner quake. Then tearless and stiff-lipped he falls instead upon the blood-soaked ground, slips silently inside the Earth, and quickly disappears.

I watch it all from far away and find myself unmoved. It seems impossible to feel in this abysmal place.

Still we plod along the wandering way, through landscapes bare and dry. The horses head droops listlessly, and mine bobs to and fro;I am not fully stuppored, but neither am I full awake.

And yet, Im free enough from inner fog to note that just ahead the pathway forks; a lesser path leads up a hill, while the greater winds along the plain.

Despite my murky mind I can make out what looks to be a band of living things draped round a great and solitary mound. The sight of trees stirs in me a feeling long asleep. Eagerly, I spur the horse onto the lesser path and toward the mound encircled by the trees.

The trees draw me, curious yet not unafraid. In truth, these verdant creatures repel as well as lure me after dwelling long in that lifeless land. They stand so close, kinfolk in the forest clan. They touch and breathe and feel; they sway and whisper, drink the sky and eat the Earth. So unlike me.

I am afraidof the living things that lie before me, of the dead I leave behind.

And yet, despite my fright, I spur my mount and pass beneath these living arms into the lush and fearsome darkness of the wood.