Seasons of the Mist

Chapter 1

     Tick, tock, tick, tock.  The young Robin Crusoe watched the old grandfather clock with a profound patience.  Tick, tock, tick, tock.  From the center of the wall, the grandfather clock gazed back into the little boy's deep black eyes morosely.  

     "Tick, tock," the grandfather clock said to little Robin, a voice that held a vast knowledge of the world and its times, one that held experience. Tick, tock- DONG, DONG.  

     Robin left his chair and carefully navigated the poorly lit cavern of a living room.  This room, like all others in the large house had no windows, except for in the kitchen, which he had never set foot in.  Today that would change. His mother would awake now, gracefully working her way through the dark and lightless confines of her room and into the hallway.  He could not see her, but could hear her soft footsteps on the plush carpet.  Emerging from the grasp of the darkness, she stepped into the faint light that was the living room and looked down at her waiting boy with an apparent compassion.  

     "Happy birthday, little Robin," she said, breaking the silence and mending it with the embrace of her child.  It was evident that he was filled with happiness that she had remembered his birthday, even though she always had the previous years.  

     "Good morning, Mother," he replied.  "Today I'm eight years old."  

     She stood up slowly and looked at him saying, "Eight, huh?  Do you know what this means?"

     "It means I can go into the kitchen!  And maybe if I'm tall enough, I can see out the window!" he said excitedly.  

     "Yes, that's right.  Now come, I'm going to make breakfast."  Robin bubbled with anticipation as he followed his mother to the locked kitchen door.  She reached into her pocket, took out a small key and unlocked the door, allowing Robin to do the honors of opening the door to this unexplored world.  

     He opened it slowly.  A blue-gray light emitted from the small opening, greedy to remove all dimness from the dark and drab living room.  The door slowly made its trip to the wall in an arc. For the first time ever, little Robin cautiously stepped foot on the black and white checker tiled floor, taking in the panoramic view of the kitchen. Cabinets lined the wall with appliances such as the fridge, dishwasher and the trash compactor making appearances in between.  

     He took it all in, slowly, looking at everything with an intense curiosity.  His mother walked past him and headed to the fridge with the intent of making eggs.  Strangely enough this refrigerator elicited a feeling unfamiliar to the little Robin, and he began to shiver.  

     "Ah.  You've never felt cold before.  It feels different from what you're used to, I'm sure," Mother said with a sad smile on her face.  "You've never been outside; experienced what the world has to give you."  

     "Mother, what is outside?" little Robin asked.  She sighed and closed the fridge.  

     "I wish I could elaborate to you what outside is, but the window over there can give you a better example than what I could ever give," she replied, pointing down the kitchen next to the stove at what he took to be the window, and also the source from which the light came through.  

     "Go on," she pushed.  He went over to the window slowly, frightened about what might lie on the other side.  He'd often read in books about the outdoors, often imagining what it would be like, conjuring images for how trees looked like, and how the many animals that roamed the outside would appear to be.  He stood in front of the window, and gazed through it.