Thoughts of a Traveler

Once, I swore never to come back here, but it seems I did. Like something or someone led me here, for a reason or another. I've been here before many times long ago, and know something of the place - one could say I have... Inside information.

The wind hums strangely here, almost singing. Like a wind chime stuck in a certain note, or the noise that's made when you blow into a bottle in a certain angle or run your finger across the edge of a wine glass. A calming sound to some, a warning to those with doubts and trickery in their minds.

It's not wise to anger the residents of these hills. They have quite the temperament and once insulted, the glass shatters, and your mind will be filled with the screeching of someone clawing the blackboard. You won't be able to keep your eyes open, and that is when they'll strike your head off your shoulders or drag you under the waves to drown. Most of the time they're quite calm, but incredibly proud and impulsive, the twists of their ancient thoughts unpredictable to the inexperienced.

The blinding flame of poetry and art burns white-hot in the hearts of the people, and in the land itself. A personification of the wild and untamed, the heart's true desire. Many not honest enough to themselves, not admitting the shadow in themselves, have lost their sight and mind should they have strayed to these strange lands - for this brutal poetry burns all that is untrue. One must be very cunning to trick anything or anyone here, and very swift of mind and foot to get away with it if discovered.

I sit on the dewy, pale grass. It's soft as spiderwebs, woven of dreams. Stars hang from the mighty silvery trees next to me, and they jingle softly in the singing breeze. I realize everything here is alive - the wind, the stars in the trees, the grass... Somehow it's more obvious here than in the world I left behind. More obvious that I should tread softly and mind my step and voice.
For it is the Earth that has to carry my body and the singing wind that has to carry my voice, and I don't wish to burden them with my mortal ignorance.