To Wander

[Kangleton]

I suddenly got the urge to write, and actually just finished right now. I decided, though, to preface what I'm about to actually post, by saying that it is porbably in dire need of editing. If anyone spots a mistake, or... whatever... send me a PM if you have an unyielding urge to see it corrected. Other than that, I don't know what else to say. I'm normally my own toughest critic, so I'm gonna go ahead and not break that trend by informing you that this story is pretty crapish, and I'm not sure I even understand how half of it is relevent to anything.

BUT ALAS!

You don't argue with yourself when you have a desire to write. At least, that is my paradigm for the day. Thank you.

...Oh, and this thread will probably be used again when I have more to write about for this particular character. I think.

[Kangleton]

Falling Awake:

He walked; never stopping, never sleeping. The last four days and nights were filled only with footsteps, though the persistant rain continued to remove any trace of the restless man's trail. Unable to realize which direction he had come from, or on what path he was travelling, the cloaked figure cared little, and carried on nonetheless.

North, South, East, and West were of no consequence; all that was certain was that on this mountain, he was heading upwards. Without doubt though, the man was oblivious to precisely where he was - but he was not lost. It is difficult to get lost, or arrive late, when one has no destination or schedule.

"Feel it when you cannot see, and trust it when you cannot feel." The sleepless man muttered as he walked, almost in a trance.

He was now high enough that the air was starting to thin, and the sound of wildlife beneath him had almost entirely faded. The peek of the mountain was near, but what mountain he was on, or where it was geographically located were questions best not asked. In fact, with so little sleep, there are no questions at all, for blessed are the sleepless, who bask in wakeful dreaming. And in the world of stark reality that exists only in a dream, one can find answers without questions, and truth without fact. In the world of dreams, one can find truth wherever he searches for it, and fact is what it is chosen to be at the time. There is no need for questions; they are redundant. One such redundant question, however, was to ask of the physical well-being of the wanderer.

Even through his cloak, it was abundantly apparent that the man's chest pulsed heavily, and that his lungs throbbed. He had made it though, to the top of the mountain, despite his weakening physical condition. However, the peek was not his destination - there was no destination. The sleepless traveller did not even stop walking; not even for a moment. As he approached the ledge of the peek, step by step, his pace did not falter, and he did not even look down. His eyes remained narrowly open, staring at the horizon even as his final step carried him over the edge of the mountain.

He fell, but there was no scream to be heard. There was not even an indication that the man was aware of his rapid free-fall.

The concept of flying is as simple as throwing oneself at the ground, and proceeding to miss, and the wakeful dreamer had already accomplished that first stage of the process. He was in flight, but what was doubtful was the safety of his landing, as his velocity continued to increase.

"Feel it when you cannot see, and trust it when you cannot feel." He continued to repeat, still without any apparent understanding of his situation.

If the falling man had expressed any interest in his surroundings, he would have been able to look around and notice that any detail of what was on any side of him was entirely blurry. He was falling fast enough to deny his eyesight the ability to focus on any one thing. But no interest was expressed, regardless. In fact, his eyes were not even open.

The rules of life are more like guidelines, and the first of which is to question all others. To be a true seeker though, one must, at some point, come to question all that he encounters - even the most simplest of things. It is these questions, however, that resulted in the descent of one such seeker. He would question even gravity.

If he were to look down now, the cloaked figure would be able to make out a few details of the earth before his eyes, but still he showed no sign of caring or understanding. The perception he held over his situation was one that did not even concieve of the possibility of hitting the ground. And that is the true nature of reality; perception.

Objective truth lies within our subjective reality - the world is taken in through one of five natural senses; sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch... though they can all be decieved. Each and every sense that a mortal may depend upon is entirely faulty, and easily discounted. But what someone may feel when they cannot see, is belief, and what someone may trust even when they cannot feel, is faith. But what happens when one posesses faith and belief, both, with absolute certainty?

If an ordinary human were instructed to walk across a plank of wood sitting peacefully on the grass, the task would require no measure of effort. However, if that same plank was resting between two tall structures high in the air, it would be far more difficult to cross. The mind is terribly prone to following it's most dominant of thoughts, and if such thoughts rest on the possibility of falling, falling becomes more likely. The plank in the grass produces no thought of danger, whereas between two buildings, it does. When one percieves a possibility, it can become a reality. Perception is reality. And perception is composed of faith, and belief.

The ground was now moments away from being the death of the aimless, cloaked man. The sound of a nearby river could be heard, and in the distance the rising sun could be seen, but these things were neither heard nor seen by the seeker. The only sense that he used, was the guiding concept of belief, and faith.

"Feel it when you cannot see, and trust it when you cannot feel." As the words escaped his mouth, the body that had produced them finally collided with the mountainous terrain he had been falling towards.

Upon the impact, there was no blood, and there was no mangled corpse found lying in the dirt. In its place, there was a blast of force; a pulse of some kind of transparent energy. Rocks and twigs were scattered and pushed outside of a 20 foot radius, and a sharp whistling noise could be heard sounding for several moments. After another second had passed, the source of the blast and the noise was realized.

The scattered twigs, rocks, and dirt began to slowly lift off the ground, drawing closer to one another as though they were gravitating around the same source. Hovering over the spot that the man's body should have been resting was what appeared to be a concentrated ball of wind. It rotated rapidly enough not only to keep its form, but to hold several small objects and debris in its inescapable current. As quickly as the mass of air had formed, however, it vanished in a pulse much like the first.

As the dust and dirt finally settled back in place after the second and final blast of air, the silhouette of a cloaked man could be seen. The sleepless wanderer proceeded to walk through the settling debris in the same direction that he had been walking prior to when he had stepped off the mountain edge.

"Feel it when you cannot see, and trust it when you cannot feel".