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Description
Trampling the grass, step by step, I am walking in the fields of this place. My hands are in my pockets and my head lowered.
Maybe it’s the mist or the mystic sadness that possesses this place.
As I am walking on the soft grass, trampling it, just as it was trampled before, the rain taps on my shoulder, silently. I never turn around because I know that it a cold rain. I hope for someone to join me in this abandoned place; a place that just recently healed from its wounds and bruises.
This insidious mist is trying to cover my eyes from the events that once took place her, although I feel the fear of trust in revealing the secrets of this place to anyone.
I can hear the voices and hymns of small and insignificant soldiers crying out for a savior; a savior they know will never come for them. I hear screams of falling, failing men, as the cold metal pierces their skin. I hear the men who trampled the grass below me, just as I am trampling now.
I gaze through the mist and my eye captures the illusions of the past. The storyteller of the earth is here to help the already doomed humans to amend themselves. At least, they can try. I think they deserve to try.
Alas, it is too late for them to amend themselves. Perhaps, this is a lesson for us all.
As they stood, looking at the waning sunset which no longer resides above these healing fields, they vanish among the crowds of diminishing slaves; their magic degrading and grinding along with time. Their bodies no longer lie here, as they did eons ago. Instead, in their place lay the dismantled, infernal siege equipment.
At first, the mist would not accept me as a partner in secret. At first, it tried to spoil my efforts, but ultimately accepting me.
I gradually begin to feel odd. I fell something penetrating my body. It is the mist, revealing the secrets I have sought. Soon enough, I feel moisture entering my body. Each particle is passing through the tissues, deep into my body, injecting clarity.
Something has changed. The mist is getting lighter, but that is not the point. The voices and faces I see and hear become clearer and louder. I can understand that they are screaming. I did understand, for I already knew of the tales of this place, but now it is becoming very vivid. The screeching voices of the soldiers of yesteryear seem more real than the sight of the terrain I saw before the mist concealed it from me.
“Stand in formation. Soldiers first, archers in the back. Mounted soldiers at sides.”
“Commander, this is suicide. Y . . . you . . . you know if we attack now, none of us will survive. What of our children, wives and our homes, sir?? I want . . . I . . . I want to live.”
The sounds become faces, and soon figures. I surely am off guard trying to understand what is going on around me. What happens next does not surprise me.
After hearing soldiers march, I see that something is getting closer, stampeding my way. At first, I cannot see what it is, but then I hear it neighing. I realize it is a horse, but it is not just a horse. It is a war-horse with an archer mounted on it.
The horse is coming my way. I try to run, but I can’t. The mist has soothed my muscles until decadence is no more and my nerves have become numb.
Right before the horse reaches me, something even more bizarre happens. Without any warning, I feel something go through my body, something heavy and metallic. I see light coming through me; just for a second, although it seems to be everlasting. When it is over, I, then know that something was not inside me, but what had just happened?
I find out quickly. The horse is very near; ready to trample me, exactly as I trampled the grass below me. Exactly as the cycle of life: trample and be trampled on.
However, this is not to be my fate. Soon enough, a man in metal armor appears and stabs the horse. The horse, as an act of final strength, raises his legs, bicycling them for a second, neighing a last neigh and falls down to the earth. This throws the archer onto the ground also, killing him instantly.
I know that what is passing through me is the man. It is at that very moment I know I am a spectator in this place. I cannot be seen, but I can experience all that goes on around me.
At once, everything seems so tense, fast. Everything is happening, and then fading away, concurrently. The mist is telling me my time is limited here.
I see three soldiers, leaning on their swords; tired, looking at the sun above them, as it quietly fades away. They seem desperate and dispirited, as if the eagle of their hope will never fly again. They are now ignominious. They are meaningless parts of a collective; a collective that can exist even without them.
At least—at least the mist spreads its veil upon them. Its shield protects them from dying more than one time.
The mist scattered a bit and lightened its density. I can see them much better now. I still see the same image of three broken men. I keep looking at them, but they cannot see me.
The mist runs back and forth, burring and clearing the vision I perceive. Then suddenly, I hear a horn. It’s the horn of a train, as if something has come to take then away. Was it just the mist? Perhaps it is the Angel of Death. I have no idea, and I still don’t know for sure.
Just as quickly as they have appeared, they are now gone. Everything is cloudy, blurry. The mist is deep in my eyes. It engulfs the surroundings. Suddenly, I hear load voices of many men crying their battle cries: “Charge!” “Ahhhh”. They are roaring all the way to their demise.
The mist vaporizes until I see that I am on the verge of a battlefield, once more. Two army’s forces clash with one another. Men from both sides pierce their fellow humans with cold steel, slay their souls.
The rain has stopped, but the air is still moist and holds the sell of the rain. I come closer to the battlefield. I come so close that I am nearly inside the carnage, yet I am so far away.
There are fireballs dropping out of the sky, as in the tales of Evermore. I look behind me and I see the balls of fire are actually flaming rock. With each breath I take, I inhale smoke and sulfur that comes from the flaming darts that pass right through my body, into someone else’s. It is a shame he is unknown to me ; unknown to me and unknown to his aggressors. Yet, he is gone forever.
I see the massive weaponry; the great catapults and other unknown devices meant for killing. I see the equipment everyone hails and praises. I do not know why, but perhaps for its grandiose power.
It starts raining again. It does not hinder the men from fighting, nor does it stop the fireballs from dropping from the sky. The flaming darts still burn the victims of their shooters. I keep gazing at them wondering the real reason for their war. I would have gazed eternally if it isn’t for a hand that is put upon my shoulder.
I look behind me. I am surprised because I thought I could not be seen, being only an observer.
When I turn around I see a beautiful lady. Her hair is as red as a rose and her face features are pleasant to watch. She wears a white, long gown. She smiles at me and moves closer, now clutching my hand and watching the field with me. She does not say a word and neither do I. I like her. There is something calming in her; something divine.
I start hearing howls coming from the clouds above. The rain’s tapping seems more coherent, more arranged creating a beat. The wind comes along, whistles (sometimes very loud), in a periodical beat. I think it may be a song.
I inquire of the lady beside me. She only smiles and says: “This is the rain song.”
The war is still going on and I still stare at them. I ask the lady why they are fighting only to be answered with the question: “Why do humans fight?”. I do not answer her, but the options are clear to me. I softly ask: “What can be done?”, hoping for a new understanding of this situation.
She answers me tenderly: “Nothing. You cannot change their nature.” I saw that coming, but I still had to ask.
Suddenly, the battle is over as quickly as it began. Just a flash and thousands of soldiers lay on the ground, dead. I am appalled at the sight. I am in the middle of a scene of great carnage. They area all armed, but this is still a carnage, just like any other war is pure carnage. Their bodies lie bleeding and cut. Their frozen faces terrified for all time. I look some more and I see many dead horses on the ground also. At that moment I feel a dreading sadness taking me over.
The lady is still with me, yet unlike me, she does not seem frightened or as shocked as I am. I do not say a word
I wonder if this was a battle for the protection of Evermore. It was an internal dispute perhaps. I really do not know, but one this is clear, this war took many lives.
The lady begins to smile at me and holds my hand even tighter and says: “Come with me.” I do not object and let her lead me.
We walk toward the newly appearing mist, far off from the battlefield, until we are deep inside of it. The lady finally stops, as did I. She turns to me and puts her hand on my forehead. Then gently, all the while smiling lowers her hand and closes my eyelids.
I feel something happening. When I open my eyes, she is no longer there. I am no longer in the field either.
I am inside a small well lit room, where two people are playing chess. I look at them and the chessboard. The standard pawns look remarkably like the types of soldiers on the battlefield I had just left. I look again at the two men. I noticed that they have diadems on their heads. At once I knew who they were and what they are doing.
Is it for fun? Maybe this is the true magic of Evermore. Is this a hoax, or is everything that happened on that battlefield directed from here?
Unbelievably, the two men rose, and the victor takes a sword and stabs the loser in the belly. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Then the winner takes the crown of the dead loser. Magically it becomes a ring to put on the winner’s hand.
Tears flow freely from my eyes. Then suddenly, everything is gone. Only blackness is left. By mysterious transport I am again in the field.
The mist is gone now, as well as all the rest. Remaining only is green grass and the cold rain, tapping my shoulder. Gone are the dead soldiers and armaments. Gone is my beautiful lady. I thought I saw something for a moment, but I was mistaken.
I think that what I have experienced is real.
The mist was finished telling me its secrets and it is now time for me to leave this place. I glance around me one last time, still in wonderment. I tell myself that I should not dwell on something that was over. I say thanks to the mist and turn around to the direction from whence I came. I take a deep breath and put my hands back into my pockets, but do not lower my head.
On my way back home, I trample the grass once again, step-by-step, just as it has been trampled on before me.
A voice behind me says: “I am still watching you, young man. Thank you for listening and farewell.”

Description
Trampling the grass, step by step, I am walking in the fields of this place. My hands are in my pockets and my head lowered.
Maybe it’s the mist or the mystic sadness that possesses this place.
As I am walking on the soft grass, trampling it, just as it was trampled before, the rain taps on my shoulder, silently. I never turn around because I know that it a cold rain. I hope for someone to join me in this abandoned place; a place that just recently healed from its wounds and bruises.
This insidious mist is trying to cover my eyes from the events that once took place her, although I feel the fear of trust in revealing the secrets of this place to anyone.
I can hear the voices and hymns of small and insignificant soldiers crying out for a savior; a savior they know will never come for them. I hear screams of falling, failing men, as the cold metal pierces their skin. I hear the men who trampled the grass below me, just as I am trampling now.
I gaze through the mist and my eye captures the illusions of the past. The storyteller of the earth is here to help the already doomed humans to amend themselves. At least, they can try. I think they deserve to try.
Alas, it is too late for them to amend themselves. Perhaps, this is a lesson for us all.
As they stood, looking at the waning sunset which no longer resides above these healing fields, they vanish among the crowds of diminishing slaves; their magic degrading and grinding along with time. Their bodies no longer lie here, as they did eons ago. Instead, in their place lay the dismantled, infernal siege equipment.
At first, the mist would not accept me as a partner in secret. At first, it tried to spoil my efforts, but ultimately accepting me.
I gradually begin to feel odd. I fell something penetrating my body. It is the mist, revealing the secrets I have sought. Soon enough, I feel moisture entering my body. Each particle is passing through the tissues, deep into my body, injecting clarity.
Something has changed. The mist is getting lighter, but that is not the point. The voices and faces I see and hear become clearer and louder. I can understand that they are screaming. I did understand, for I already knew of the tales of this place, but now it is becoming very vivid. The screeching voices of the soldiers of yesteryear seem more real than the sight of the terrain I saw before the mist concealed it from me.
“Stand in formation. Soldiers first, archers in the back. Mounted soldiers at sides.”
“Commander, this is suicide. Y . . . you . . . you know if we attack now, none of us will survive. What of our children, wives and our homes, sir?? I want . . . I . . . I want to live.”
The sounds become faces, and soon figures. I surely am off guard trying to understand what is going on around me. What happens next does not surprise me.
After hearing soldiers march, I see that something is getting closer, stampeding my way. At first, I cannot see what it is, but then I hear it neighing. I realize it is a horse, but it is not just a horse. It is a war-horse with an archer mounted on it.
The horse is coming my way. I try to run, but I can’t. The mist has soothed my muscles until decadence is no more and my nerves have become numb.
Right before the horse reaches me, something even more bizarre happens. Without any warning, I feel something go through my body, something heavy and metallic. I see light coming through me; just for a second, although it seems to be everlasting. When it is over, I, then know that something was not inside me, but what had just happened?
I find out quickly. The horse is very near; ready to trample me, exactly as I trampled the grass below me. Exactly as the cycle of life: trample and be trampled on.
However, this is not to be my fate. Soon enough, a man in metal armor appears and stabs the horse. The horse, as an act of final strength, raises his legs, bicycling them for a second, neighing a last neigh and falls down to the earth. This throws the archer onto the ground also, killing him instantly.
I know that what is passing through me is the man. It is at that very moment I know I am a spectator in this place. I cannot be seen, but I can experience all that goes on around me.
At once, everything seems so tense, fast. Everything is happening, and then fading away, concurrently. The mist is telling me my time is limited here.
I see three soldiers, leaning on their swords; tired, looking at the sun above them, as it quietly fades away. They seem desperate and dispirited, as if the eagle of their hope will never fly again. They are now ignominious. They are meaningless parts of a collective; a collective that can exist even without them.
At least—at least the mist spreads its veil upon them. Its shield protects them from dying more than one time.
The mist scattered a bit and lightened its density. I can see them much better now. I still see the same image of three broken men. I keep looking at them, but they cannot see me.
The mist runs back and forth, burring and clearing the vision I perceive. Then suddenly, I hear a horn. It’s the horn of a train, as if something has come to take then away. Was it just the mist? Perhaps it is the Angel of Death. I have no idea, and I still don’t know for sure.
Just as quickly as they have appeared, they are now gone. Everything is cloudy, blurry. The mist is deep in my eyes. It engulfs the surroundings. Suddenly, I hear load voices of many men crying their battle cries: “Charge!” “Ahhhh”. They are roaring all the way to their demise.
The mist vaporizes until I see that I am on the verge of a battlefield, once more. Two army’s forces clash with one another. Men from both sides pierce their fellow humans with cold steel, slay their souls.
The rain has stopped, but the air is still moist and holds the sell of the rain. I come closer to the battlefield. I come so close that I am nearly inside the carnage, yet I am so far away.
There are fireballs dropping out of the sky, as in the tales of Evermore. I look behind me and I see the balls of fire are actually flaming rock. With each breath I take, I inhale smoke and sulfur that comes from the flaming darts that pass right through my body, into someone else’s. It is a shame he is unknown to me ; unknown to me and unknown to his aggressors. Yet, he is gone forever.
I see the massive weaponry; the great catapults and other unknown devices meant for killing. I see the equipment everyone hails and praises. I do not know why, but perhaps for its grandiose power.
It starts raining again. It does not hinder the men from fighting, nor does it stop the fireballs from dropping from the sky. The flaming darts still burn the victims of their shooters. I keep gazing at them wondering the real reason for their war. I would have gazed eternally if it isn’t for a hand that is put upon my shoulder.
I look behind me. I am surprised because I thought I could not be seen, being only an observer.
When I turn around I see a beautiful lady. Her hair is as red as a rose and her face features are pleasant to watch. She wears a white, long gown. She smiles at me and moves closer, now clutching my hand and watching the field with me. She does not say a word and neither do I. I like her. There is something calming in her; something divine.
I start hearing howls coming from the clouds above. The rain’s tapping seems more coherent, more arranged creating a beat. The wind comes along, whistles (sometimes very loud), in a periodical beat. I think it may be a song.
I inquire of the lady beside me. She only smiles and says: “This is the rain song.”
The war is still going on and I still stare at them. I ask the lady why they are fighting only to be answered with the question: “Why do humans fight?”. I do not answer her, but the options are clear to me. I softly ask: “What can be done?”, hoping for a new understanding of this situation.
She answers me tenderly: “Nothing. You cannot change their nature.” I saw that coming, but I still had to ask.
Suddenly, the battle is over as quickly as it began. Just a flash and thousands of soldiers lay on the ground, dead. I am appalled at the sight. I am in the middle of a scene of great carnage. They area all armed, but this is still a carnage, just like any other war is pure carnage. Their bodies lie bleeding and cut. Their frozen faces terrified for all time. I look some more and I see many dead horses on the ground also. At that moment I feel a dreading sadness taking me over.
The lady is still with me, yet unlike me, she does not seem frightened or as shocked as I am. I do not say a word
I wonder if this was a battle for the protection of Evermore. It was an internal dispute perhaps. I really do not know, but one this is clear, this war took many lives.
The lady begins to smile at me and holds my hand even tighter and says: “Come with me.” I do not object and let her lead me.
We walk toward the newly appearing mist, far off from the battlefield, until we are deep inside of it. The lady finally stops, as did I. She turns to me and puts her hand on my forehead. Then gently, all the while smiling lowers her hand and closes my eyelids.
I feel something happening. When I open my eyes, she is no longer there. I am no longer in the field either.
I am inside a small well lit room, where two people are playing chess. I look at them and the chessboard. The standard pawns look remarkably like the types of soldiers on the battlefield I had just left. I look again at the two men. I noticed that they have diadems on their heads. At once I knew who they were and what they are doing.
Is it for fun? Maybe this is the true magic of Evermore. Is this a hoax, or is everything that happened on that battlefield directed from here?
Unbelievably, the two men rose, and the victor takes a sword and stabs the loser in the belly. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Then the winner takes the crown of the dead loser. Magically it becomes a ring to put on the winner’s hand.
Tears flow freely from my eyes. Then suddenly, everything is gone. Only blackness is left. By mysterious transport I am again in the field.
The mist is gone now, as well as all the rest. Remaining only is green grass and the cold rain, tapping my shoulder. Gone are the dead soldiers and armaments. Gone is my beautiful lady. I thought I saw something for a moment, but I was mistaken.
I think that what I have experienced is real.
The mist was finished telling me its secrets and it is now time for me to leave this place. I glance around me one last time, still in wonderment. I tell myself that I should not dwell on something that was over. I say thanks to the mist and turn around to the direction from whence I came. I take a deep breath and put my hands back into my pockets, but do not lower my head.
On my way back home, I trample the grass once again, step-by-step, just as it has been trampled on before me.
A voice behind me says: “I am still watching you, young man. Thank you for listening and farewell.”