Tag: forest

#oneaday, Day 268: Through the Night

I took my first steps into the night. Coming from the brightness I’d left behind me, the inky blackness looked impenetrable, a solid wall of darkness into which I’d vanish, never to be heard from ever again, were I to take one step further forward.

I took a step forward, and I did not vanish. The light was still behind me but my eyes were gradually adjusting, focusing, bringing that which was hidden into view again.

I took out the small torch and lit it, the small pool of light it cast spilling onto the floor, concentric circles of light and shadow. There’s always a way through even the blackest darkness if you have even just a little light.

I stepped forward again, and again, and began walking into the darkness. I didn’t know where my feet were taking me save into the black of the night. But I was moving forward, ever onward, like it was the thing to do. It was important. This was all that mattered right now. I walked, sweeping the dim light of the torch in front of me and watching ill-defined shapes pass as the light caught them and I walked past.

“Run,” whispered a voice in my ear, and I obeyed. I quickened my pace, still holding the torch, still sweeping it around, not knowing where I was headed or where I would end up. But I was running. The ground was hard under my feet, the regular thump-thump-thump of my steps mingling with the quickening of my heart in a chorus of drums that only I was witness to.

The darkness closed in around me, and the pool of light showed me that I was surrounded by shadows, but they did not feel threatening. Rather, they encased me, enclosed me, kept me safe. And still I ran, ever forward. The hard ground gave way beneath my feet to loose stones and finally soft mud. I felt the occasional splash of a puddle, but I was already past it, ever moving onwards. Still moving, still pushing forwards. But to where?

A scent filled my nostrils, a natural smell; the smell of the woods, of trees and leaves. It infused my being with a sense of peace. Out here there was nothing to fear, nothing to hide from, nothing to run from. But still I ran, with a sense of purpose that became ever more urgent.

In the distance, a pinpoint of light. As I drew closer, it flickered, its warm glow drawing my eyes away from the dark and towards what I now knew to be my destination. Closer still, and I could see the gentle flames; a source of comfort, warmth and safety, a place to rest a while.

As I entered the clearing I felt the warmth of the fire on my face and smelled the sweet smoke. And then she was there too, looking at me, smiling, those eyes gazing deep into my soul.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, taking my hand.

One A Day, Day 20: >LOOK

Hill Top

You stand atop a gently-rolling hill that is fairly featureless aside from a few bramble bushes, some small, dead-looking trees and, just next to you, a small stone monument.

There is a wooden bench here.

I’m in the Great Outdoors, specifically the New Forest, though the bit I’m in right now isn’t very foresty. After the week that was, the peace and solitude is just lovely. There are very few people here, and the ones that are here are the type of people who politely say “hello” to you as you pass, even though you’ve never met them before. They also have dogs with names like Gladstone and Horatio.

It’s striking to me, sitting here now, just as it was when I went to Lepe Beach to take those photos the other day, that there isn’t a game out there yet which has got “the great outdoors” right. Games like Oblivion, World of Warcraft and numerous other open-world adventures and RPGs have tried, but none quite capture this feeling of peace and solitude. (Perhaps because wherever you are in an RPG world, you’re only ever a stone’s throw from something that wants to kill you.)

Actually, to say that no games have pulled this off is inaccurate. The games that do it best are interactive fiction titles, they of the complete lack of graphics and the only minimum system requirement being an imagination that still works.

Up here, I’m particularly reminded of Andrew Plotkin’s “A Change In The Weather”, the only game I know of where your final confrontation is with a thunderstorm. Of course, right now it doesn’t look like I’m going to have to race against time to prevent a rickety old bridge from being washed away, but the atmosphere is the same. Peace. Quiet. No-one but you. And definitely no needy, whining, squabbling children, stick-up-their-arse inspectors or faux-concern headteachers.

Sitting here, you can say “sod off” to the world, and no-one can do a damn thing about it.