A New Place

It was the morning after a rainstorm. A teal haze covered the world and echoed through the morning mist; the remaining raindrops fell from the leaves of plants, the final remnants of the tears of the sky. The haze covered most of the sunlight, but golden stream poured down from time to time, place to place; the rarity of it in this setting made it worth more than all of the treasures of the world combined.

There was calm; like nothing dared make a noise to disturb this sacred moment, this precious ground. Not a bird chirped a whistle, not a cricket creaked a note.

The place itself remained identical as a footstep reached the ground and the leaves and twigs below it crunched and crackles; but the holy silence was replaced with the usual sound of morning life. Another footstep assured that the silence was gone forever now, and the noises could continue without a worry; the birds and crickets conducted a symphony; an ode to morning like only they can.

He liked it here; this place was not like the last place. The last place had money, it had good food and warm rooms. But this new place had something that the last one didn’t; it had magic. And that magic was better than all of the money, all of the good food; better than the warm rooms that the planet had to offer.

There was a tranquility now; before all he knew was leaving it all behind, all he knew was running. He didn’t know how long he had run; perhaps a few days, perhaps a few minutes. At the time it didn’t matter; at the time nothing mattered. He had stopped and found this wondrous place, this breath of crisp fresh morning air.

How far away was he from where he had started?

Who knew?

The sun was getting higher in the sky, now, but the tranquility remained lingering in everything about the place; it was in the air within his lungs, the sky above his head, the dirt beneath his feet. And it was beautiful. He stood there basking in it all for a while as he looked around; as if to make sure that the last place had not followed him into this new place. When he was certain that it had not; that he was all alone here, he started walking. Cautiously he went at first; so to make sure that he didn’t break this fragile place; but after a while he grew comfortable enough to go about it casually. He looked from side to side as he walked; as he breathe in the crisp morning air. As time went on and steps were taken he realized that this place was safe. The last place was not; it had fast cars and guns and evil men (which was his rationale for leaving - for running - to begin with).

He had never done it before; never run away. He guessed it to be a good thing, though; he had never breathed in tranquility before, either; never breathed in safety. He remembered running all through the night, all through the rainstorm which had drenched the world and now its remnants added to the specialty of this new place. How could a place such as this exist so close to the big city; remain untouched and unfound by Human hands and Human minds?

How could a place like this exist in a world such as his?

There was no one else here; perhaps that’s what got him in the end. He liked it; it was as though the whole world was his. Nobody could hurt him here; nobody could tell him what to do. No one was chasing him.

Or were they?

Had they followed him here? Were they lurking in the wood, waiting to murder the tranquility and him at the same time by gunning him down; returning him to the earth? The thought of it frightened him.

And now he thought of survival. What would he eat? Where would he shelter? And what of his sanity? Who should he talk to, how should he pass the time? Would he grow old among the trees, cold, naked, stark-raving mad; or would he be killed by an animal out here, wild, crazed and starving? Or maybe he’d be killed by one of the evil men hiding in the trees; not much different from the animal of his morbid curiosities.

He stopped walking and looked around. A twig snapped behind him, and he spun around half expecting to see a man with a gun or an animal or... but nothing. Still, the safety was replaced with fear; the tranquility replaced with desolation. The quiet was drowned out by his own internal screaming, his own mortal danger. Another twig snapped and he nearly screamed, and then another. They must be upon him now, ready to strike. This place was no better than the last after all, it was worse. It was danger with a welcoming shroud; this place was nothing but a disguise, a way to cover the cold, hard reality that there was no tranquility in the world, there was no safety.

There was no escape from the last place.

The last place was the entire world.

So he started running in the direction that he had come.