the end of chapter 7

this is nearing the middle of the book, just bear with me. Thank you

The dream still held, the tenuous edges slid around like a microbe under a slide glass but something was keeping the sky in place and the grass beneath my feet. Strange music drifted from the long row of towering oaks that stood in line all the way up the mighty hill that was imposing in only the way a dream can be, I watched the trees with caution as I followed their path, the grass seemed to move in waves, pushed by a wind that I couldn't feel.

 

Someone was wiating for me at the top, holding unto a low swinging branch I watched the figure as it stood in the sunlight, casting a shadow across the rocks that made up the flat plaeutu of the hill. He was looking up at something, tracing his line of sight with my own I gasped at the monument that stood atop the hill, the line of trees wrapping around it's immense stone base, dwarfed by it's impossible height.

 

In the next moment I was standing next to the shadowy figure, the distance covered in a labored heart-beat.

 

"It's so beautiful."

 

His, or hers, voice was had a metallic quality and the words faded from the hidden lips in short quiet breaths.

 

"We told them not to take this one apart, to canabalize the rest of the monuments, but this one had to stay."

 

I didn't know if the quiet voice was talking to me but with my neck craned I traced the giant rocks that seemed to fit into one another like a jigsaw puzzle made up of 300 ton blocks, heavy angles and thin mortar lines.

 

"This wasn't here the last time."

 

The volume of my voice startled me, a bullhorn of noise that made me look around in embaressement.

 

The shadow shifted for a moment and I saw an imagined smile on the formless face,

 

"That's because they didn't listen."

 

My head was getting dizzy so I stopped squinting and trying to follow the tower past the clouds and into the dull blue sky, the base was a squat pryamid that thinned at the top and just went straight up, and up, and up.

 

Tucking his, or her, hands into the pockets of the khaki jacket the unremarkable figure walked towards the circle of trees and the pyaramid they surrounded.

 

I followed when I heard the adrogynous voice on the lazy wind,

 

"They never listen."

 

The atmosphere reminded me of a spirit journey, but without the desperate insanity of peyote or the imposing energy of the open desert. This wasn't me wandering through a half forgotten world while my eyes melted from unfathomable images, but the atmosphere was very similar.

Whatever this figure was, it was powerful enough to create a world inside my fevered dreams. A flock of birds flew from the cricle of trees, disturbed by our approach.

 

Concentrating I looked deep into the shadows that wrapped about the mysterious whisperer and for a few seconds saw a long tired face, thin, wavy hair that hung down to bony shoulders. A tired man that looked ready for sleep after a long days work, in other words, a god.

 

"Who are you?" My voice was a respectfull whisper.

 

For the first time the man stopped and noticed me, the thin hair blew in the wind and stood out at a crooked angle, the eyes looked at me in surprise and then dissapointment,

 

"That's a powerful question you ask, little dreamer."

 

I couldn't look in his eyes, the same white orbs that all the watchers possesed, free of color or judgement, just a black hole, unfeeling and recording.

 

He didn't wait for my response, instead he continued towards the trees, which towered above us and shaded the glowing blue sky and the unseen sun that always seemed to be shining against the watcher. The trees were spaced out enough that I could see the long steps that wrapped around the Incan pyramid, the bark of each tree was carved to resemble the bearded face of some ancient being. Wise eyes watched me from above as I followed the oblivious stranger.

 

"I don't know why we even bothered in the first place."

 

It was even harder to hear the whispers and I found myslef straining to pick out the quiet words. I was getting the feeling that this being always mumbled to itself, a habit picked up from millenia of being alone in worlds unseen and knowing only faded memories of lost comrades.

 

We passed the trees and I looked down at the fine gravel that crunched beneath my leather boots, clean figures were carved into a totem statue that stood twice as tall as me but seemed to stand as an insect next to the eye-bending tower. I had seen these figures all through Peru and Ecaudor over that summer of exploration but always they were faded or destroyed, time and the wind breaking down the symbols and figures.

 

But now they shined, new and unflawed, a bearded figure sat in a circular device that resembled a wingless dragon. The details were immaculate and it clearly looked like a vehicle of some ancient make. Or something ultra-advanced and adapted to the culture so as to limit the shock.

 

I blinked and found myself in the sky, a choked screamed and I fell to my knees. Smooth white stone held me up and I looked around at the flat circle that suspended me in the expanse of unbroken blue. The figure stood on the edge, hands still in the pockets of it's bannana republic jacket, head looking down.

 

I made myself stand and told myself I wouldn't crawl the teen feet to the edge. I barely made it.

Looking down my stomach caught in my throat and I took a step back from reflex and fear.

 

My ears picked up another whispered mumble,

"We had to let them all know, we caused the schism, so we had to bring it back together."

 

I cracked my neck and told myself I was a wizard, a magician, knowledge was frightening, nothing new.

 

Ridiculous would be the best description as I scooted back to the edge and forced myself to look down.

 

The lines stretched below me and I almost fell over out of astonishment.

 

The nazca lines stretched under me, newly dug and throbbing with power. Even in this imagined world of my mind I could feel myself draw in the power. Birds, and monkeys, an immmense spider, so many rectangles and triangles. It was transcendant, I was speechless.

 

"They didn't appreciate it. We dumbed it down for them, we drew it in figures so large and electric that even an ignorant mind would be inspired. But none of them could grasp it. They just kept on killing each other, because they thought thats what we wanted."

 

It was the perfect height to observe all the figures and shapes, I estimated 20 thousand feet, just at the middle cloud line, a vulture came around the side of the tower and for a moment seemed to fly with the massive traced condor that cut through two hills and a stream with perfect, unbroken lines.

 

It was all so beautiful.

 

I shook my head and tried not to yell over the sound of the unfelt wind,

 

"I don't get it, it's all so much."

 

Like learning to read and the same day being forced to recite Shakespeare, unfathomable and frustrating.

 

A thin cloud obscured the smallest of the designs for a second and I looked over and was startled by the watcher, he was looking right at me. The sudden scrutiny made me feel uncomfortable and guilty for some reason.

 

"We gave you writing, we gave you fire, we gave you agriculture. Fifty thousand years later and still I hear those words. I don't get it."

 

He was standing a little too close and with alarm I realized he was walking towards me and the only thing behind me was the 20 thousand foot drop to the peruvian landscape below.

 

The shadow didn't whisper anymore and the blue sky behind him seemed to stop, the clouds froze and the edges became soft as flesh. My left foot went backwards and for a heart-sickening moment hung over over the green abyss.

 

"I don't get it. You know, we all didn't want to bring you people back up, most of us were content with our sciences and our magics, travelling and observing the new world that was so much different from the one we abandoned. We worked for years and we nearly killed ourselves to make you scrambling, cave dwelling, monkeys a little bit better than you were.

 

Don't skake your head, you aren't special. Oh you're a wizard? Don't make me laugh. You know what we did to the first 'wizard' we brought up here? Resplendent in his robes and feathers, aggorant and preening just like all the rest of you. He looked down and stared, for until the next evening he stared. You know what he said after an entire day and night of looking at those massive works of art and knowledge?

 

I don't get it.

 

You know what we did to him?"

 

His voice slowly rose in volume and pitch until the formerly reserved figure was screaming like a mad man. I swallowed and had a pretty good idea what they did to that first wizard.

 

The figure stopped yelling and seemed to compose himself, A flock of birds flew behind him, some moving too fast, a few moving just a little too slow. I held my breath and watched his hands.

 

"We smiled and one of us said, 'Oh you don't get it? Well maybe you just need a closer look."

 

A gust of wind slammed into me and knocked the breath from my lungs, the stone was pulled out from beneath my feet and suddenly I could only see the cloudless blue sky as it lay frozen above me, the tower seeming to rise even higher into the air. I wanted to turn and see the shapes one more time but the force of the fall kept me staring straight up at the static blue sky.

 

The old familiar smell of antiseptic and clean metal, my arms felt heavy and unused. A soft weight sat on my chest and I could barely breath, the sounds of the monitoring machines brought me fully awake and I found I could move my neck without passing out.

 

I.V. cables and pumps, clean white walls and a table that held a purple vase, across the way and next to the wodden door, an empty seat that held a familiar jacket and sitting on the plastic chair next to it, my handler, my editor, my only surviving friend from the old days.

 

Chales looked up from the tabloid magazine he was reading and smiled like we were meeting over drinks.

 

"How you feel?"

 

My voice came out as a very familiar whisper, my spine shuddered as I answered him in the cold quiet voice of the faceless watcher,

 

"I don't get it."

 

I coughed and said the three words again in my own voice.

 

Looking back at the magazine Charles took a sip from his paper coffee cup,

'Yeah, me neither."

Reviews

[shafa]

Well I like the story line so far, might have to go back and reread some, seems like i might have missed a couple details here or there. As for grammer and what not I think you just need to reread it to yourself and you should be able to catch a handful or so of spelling mistakes. I think the story would flow a little better if you used a little more paragraph structure. This last chapter was better but the first few chapters every other line was a new paragraph. I dunno, maybe just a personal preference but i think when you explain an entire idea or subject in one or two paragraphs the information flows together better than when spread out over 10. Overall good stuff, look forward to reading more.