The Walk

In dark, gloomy shades of gray, blowing in from the North, a small group of children walk silently and apprehensively.

The wear black robes, but glow in the darkness nonetheless. With bolts of lightening and shattering booms, jungle noise fill the night, heard but not seen. Pellets of water come crashing down, and little lights drift in the mist. The group keeps walking.

The Professor appears from the faded blankets of gray. She slowly makes her way to the head of the group. The all fall to the earth, down, down, then are tossed up again by the playful wind of the North. Now they all have small candles, lighting the way, so soft, so silent. Hearts race, spirits flutter, as they breath this air.

They glide to the top of a steep hill. The rain is hurling down, this torrent from the North, but the sky is getting a bit lighter as the group ascends. It is blue and purple, though the dark clouds still remain. They lend an ear to the lamenting booms as they reach the top. Four, stark white pillars rise before them, 50 ft. high, in the shape of a square, topped with a flat roof. On and on, splish, splash, flash, and boom.

The structure twists and sags - an eerie stillness claims the air. Silence creeps in from the North as they glide under the roof. Lightly the drops come down, down, tapping the elaborate structure, sprinkling the air. The Professor inhales the sweet, clear, stormy air, and raises her candle to the fathomless gray. The children follow suit, and jungle sounds rise up from below.