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Author Topic: A rolling stone gathers no moss - Creighton Norville  (Read 148 times)

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A rolling stone gathers no moss - Creighton Norville
« on: January 12, 2021, 10:23:53 PM »
It has been long since I wrote about my travels. Lately, I have thought about the past and reflected on the path that led me here. I relived my greatest regrets and when I close my eyes and daydream the vividity of these memories immerse me in what must be a trance. Although the night terrors I have are recurring, I have come closer to an understanding of where I have come. It’s hard to tell what was the beginning, but in 772 I recall the final harvest before I was taken from Upwich.

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Just a stone’s throw from Hope’s End, the unmarked trail led me home to the hamlet immersed in the silent, eerie trees. With the Halan’s remedy in tow, I made my way home in hopes this would raise my father’s weakened spirits. The journey back home to Upwich was uneventful despite the common dangers of traveling alone. The summer rains were behind us and I greeted Uncle Audry at the hamlet by the midday sun. My dear misanthropic mentor was upset I recall, and I would soon realize just why he was on edge. The ides of autumn announced themselves in the falling of leaves heralded the inevitable cycle of death until the coming spring. Preparations for the Fall Festival were well underway with the great oak at the center of it. Tables were set, foodstuffs in view, and the wicker man stood amidst it all.

The villagers returned from their affairs. The hunters’ bounty was good with plenty of game and farmers celebrated a great yield. The atmosphere of the feast was pleasant, tranquil even with cheer in the air. Except for the outsider who watched us, bound and quiet. I had questions, but the celebration grounds were prepared just outside of the village in a clearing where food and drink readied. The sound of music was in the air and the revelry contagious. I told my father my dreams of traveling the Core. He shook his head, despite his apparent illness he seemed vigorous and strong. “A rolling stone gathers no moss,” the old man repeated the adage, “Family is all. Boy, there’s nothing for us out there.” He was wrong, there was far more out there than this ancient wood. I knew one day I’d see it all.

The villager elders called us forth to give an offering to the gods once more before the auspices of winter. In ceremony and ritual, the augur disemboweled a wolf and gazed into its entrails. The flight of distant birds was observed. There was a shift in the air as the outsider was taken to the center as the crowd looked on. Uncle Audry protested alone. I nearly spoke up, but my father’s stare silenced me. He knew I agreed, it was not the time to be sentimental. The druids took the outsider and trapped him inside the effigy to be burned. He was an offering to the gods so the forests would be full of game, the harvests would remain strong. Before long, a stoic silence contrasted between the screams of a dying man. The outsider would not be missed, Hope’s End’s peculiar neighbors in Upwich would not utter a word of it. The death also satisfied the wicked spirits of the de Boistribue Family manor, rumor of the lycanthrope's curse there cowed us in terror. Audry turned away. They told me it was the day he gave up on his humanity, the eccentric druid lost his faith in humanity and went to live among the beasts for good.There was a certain allure for some and it was the last I saw of him, but all I could think of was the screaming. “There’s nothing for us out there.”

The next spring would be plenty.
"In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order."