The first chapter of an untitled adventure story. I have my program director at WTEE to thank for the impetus of it. Much of the esoteric meaning and symbolism I have long since forgot, therefore I include it here as a tale simply to entertain.
Once there was a young boy who, growing up in the caves and wilderness far outside of organized society, did not have a name for a very long time. He did get one eventually, but that is not what this story is about. Rather this story is about how the boy came to discover the world, his place in it, and all without having any of the things that come with a name.
This story begins with the boy and his family. They travelled everywhere on foot, which was not uncommon back then. In his earliest years, he saw the great city, the great river and the great bridge over it, the great road, and especially the great mountains with the mighty wilderness surrounding it. In those days, it was quite common for the wilderness to take folk, especially if they were strangers. They would loose their way, be separated from their group, or vanish entirely. As in most wildernesses, there was magic, as you soon shall see, that is not always understood. By the end of this tale, however, you should understand a great deal of it, as the boy did. For now, it is enough to simply say, that while his parents were elsewhere, the boy by accident (or luck) wandered towards the sound of rushing water, lay down by the crashing rocks, fell asleep, and was forgotten.
When the boy awoke, he felt the soft trickle of water under his back. He felt the summer sun hot on his face, and he heard the swish of tall trees in the breeze. He thought, "where am I?" This was strange to him, as he had never had this thought before. Suddenly, the wet stones felt chill, and he got up at once.
He was alone on the riverbed, with dense forests all around. There was no trail. "How did I get here?" He thought, then, remembering the sound of rushing water, he looked at the stones and the trickle, and thought. "surely this isn't how a river is supposed to be. But why did it stop?" The he gave a troubled look, and, putting two and two together, he exclaimed, "That's it! This river must come off of the great river, the one I remember seeing, underneath the great bridge. If I can follow this lesser one to where it starts, then perhaps I'll find the greater one, and find out why it stopped somewehere on the way." With this renewed sense of purpose, the boy started off upstream.
Before long, there came in view a long dark structure obstructing the river. Closer up, he noticed there were long wooden beams lodged within the rocks, with carved, polished bricks along its length. Around it, little workers were running about, They had blue and green skin, wore coveralls and carried chisels, hammers, axes and crowbars. All were silent, and none would make a sound. A group were standing on the riverbed, and despite their tools, gesticulatd wildly as if to say, "Here! No, not there! Here!" "This, not that, this!" "Go here! No, there!" "Stay there! No, here!" All waving their tools, frowning, urging, stomping, everything short of shouting or shoving. So hot and worked up they seemed, yet all their commotion amounted to very little. At first the boy found this entertaining, but soon he felt sorry for the little workers. He wondered, "what are they trying to fix?" And as he had this thought, he found himself stepping among them, and asked, "what's this all about?" A couple workers turned to him, turned a dead-leaf brown, and then turned away. They tried to ignore him, although the boy's presence was unavoidable, they continued to argue, now with a little more measure and respectability.
So the boy went along the dam and climbed up the bank, where, on the grass stood many more colourful men. Blue, green, hazel, orange read, and mulled about, twiddling their thumbs or kicking at the rocks. Beyond this was a trail into the woods, just small enough for the workers, and a wagon. There, one stood apart holding a scroll, pointed at the others gathered, then at the symbols on his parchment. The others responded by pointing back at the dam and shrugged. Then the scroll holder, nodding, pointed with them at the dam, back down the path, then at his scroll. At this, the workers threw their arms up and frowned. The boy couldn't make out the paper's squiggles either, so he went back toward the dam.
As he went closer, he could see the damage, where the water was flooding into the gap. The boy, intent to get a better look, waded into the rapids, steadying himself with one hand on the wooden beams. The collapse seemed to be centered in the very middle, where a turbine shaft had come dislodged. Two workers stood on the dam and watched the boy coming. He pointed at the turbine, and they both shrugged. The boy tried pulling the part, trying hard to free it from the rouble, but it wouldn't budge. He kept trying to force it free, and couldn't, when suddenly, he looked up, and they both were smiling! "Keep going, keep going!" they seemed to say, encouraging him with their hands and eyes. They offered him their tools, which were no use.
But the boy wasn't nearly strong enough, so he waded back to shore, and back to the wagon and the scroll-holder. Now he was accompanied by the two dam workers, and the others stared with awe and surprise. "You need a new part" he said, and made a turning motion with his hands.The others nodded and made the gesture. The scroll-holder nodded thoughtfully, then pointing down the path, he motioned for the boy and the other two to join him down it. This scared the boy. He thought, "it is one thing to help them while I am by the river, it is another to go off into the wilderness for them." But he reassured himself that, although this path was unknown, it seemed well travelled, therefore he ought not be worried too much. He decided he would go. The others joined him, and they set off.