Saturday, October 1, 2016

Fiction- Stories, Myths and Legends. REWARD FOR THE FALLEN. PT 1.


Cannon, Relic, Historical, Nova Scotia

The man found himself on a dirt road.  How he came to be there was a mystery, for he could not remember the circumstances of his arrival.  In fact, he had no recollection of anything in the past.  All around him was an alien landscape and heavy foliage lined the path that stretched into the distance.
 
"What is going on?", he said to himself, "Why am I here?"  The man decided that perhaps the answer lay at the end of the trail, so he began to walk.
 
After a short time a shape emerged before him, seemingly out of nowhere.  The man was startled, but regained his composure quickly.  Looking the newcomer over, the man was puzzled.  The figure was dressed in a shabby manner, wearing a worn out buckskin shirt and pants and carrying an antiquated flintlock rifle.

The man wanted to speak to this new arrival, but never had the chance.  With a cursory glance, the one blocking his way said in a plain gruff voice; "You are on the right path, continue."  On that note, the individual stepped back into the overgrowth and disappeared.
 
"Strange," said the man, "an obvious eccentric."  So he continued on his way.
A short time later the man found his path once again blocked by an individual that appeared suddenly and without warning.  This time the intruder was dressed in a blue tunic, with matching blue trousers that had a yellow stripe running down the side of each leg.
 
Again, the man was given a quick once over, and then was addressed in an accent he couldn't identify;  "Ah, not a Son of Erin, but you'll do.  Your on the right path, continue."  As before, the way was made clear by the departure of this most recent interloper.
 
The man was confused.  "What is going on," he thought, "why am I here, and who are they that seem to pass judgment on whether or not to allow me to continue my journey?"
End of PT 1.
 
Date- 9/3/2013.