Beyond the old stone wall, there is something sinister. Or so I am told and therefore led to believe. I say that, purely because no-one has ever come back to tell me other wise. That is the main reason for the belief, how can we refuse to believe otherwise when no-one ever returns from venturing beyond the wall? On the other side of the wall was a vast expanse of long, apple green grass that came up to everyone's knees: despite the many height differences between folk, it was always long enough to tickle the backs of your knees. I suppose it must be magic, but I couldn't say what kind of magic with any kind of certainty. It was a sea, a beautiful but potentially deadly sea of lush green grass that would sway in the breeze, even when there was no breeze at all. Like I said; magic. The buttercups were beautiful, a bright, stark yellow contrast against the apple green, just aimlessly dotted around the place. What stood out the most however, was just how far this grass sea seemed to go; the rolling hills on the horizon were covered as well, for as far as your eyes could see, it was just a massive expanse of mostly green. Pansy's, lilac, a soft purple in the waves, were lost the further out you looked, and grew in patches of fourteen, such an odd amount, and not a sinister amount either, I would be more inclined to wholeheartedly believe the stories if they grew in patches of, say, thirteen. How could something this pleasingly beautiful possibly contain something deemed to be so sinister? Maybe little gnomes ran around in the depths of the grass and would bite your ankles if you came to close, or wander too far out. Maybe the further away from the wall you got, the further away from the safe haven that we were brought up to know, an army of angry raven would swoop and attack in the hopes of driving you back to the other side the wall. Or maybe, just maybe, there was nothing sinister beyond the wall at all, and the real reason that lay beyond those hills, beyond the stone wall, as to why no-one ever came back, was because it is something ever more wonderful than what we have presented to us, this side of the wall. Something so much better than here, something so much more; and my heart ached for it.
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Cerita Pendek[In Edit] Summer train journey's. What better inspiration for a collection of shorts stories. The concept for this book was birthed on a train but has continued to flourish long after the train left the tracks. From April to September 2016 I had to...
