I continued in the straightforward path and let the sublime aura of the field wrap itself round my limbs, slowly lifting my feet with lingering steps. I glided my way through the drop of heaven, never once daring to blacken the virgin soil with my imperfect steps; rather, I floated on a subconscious highway paved of my thoughts and dreams. The moonlight brushed underneath my eyes and exposed the features of my face By some lunar incarnation, unbeknownst to any mystic, my soul was drawn out from beneath my coarse exterior as well, and I walked the infinity, a saint.

And in my lonely gaze, I rewarded my eyes with a long stretch of White Mountains balancing upon the golden-yellow tightrope of the horizon. They stood, noble kings atop an ancient earth, forever watching their greenish domain and protecting their colorful subjects. These fairy kings melted the blue tint of the upland with their white exterior, stirring the colors of the air into a light wisp of smoke that drifted in a fainéant manner. But what truly filled my senses with illumination were the kingly white crowns that sat at the heads of the stone guardians. What climes, what magnificent peaks these children of Earth flaunt; defiant of religion and code, no mortal man could resist the envious seed those sinly farmers sowed, thus, they would feast with the likes of Judas and Cassius, sent on an errand of envy.

I stood and scarred the tantalizing scene unto my memory until every last detail was mentally etched. ‘Twas this time I caught a glimpse of a gash in the pure white skin of the mountains; a small hallow winded its way deep into the heart of the kings. My face shone brighter than the accompanying moonlight could muster and I ordered nature to carry me to this slice of heaven.

It was after a sentimental ride I found myself facing the mouth of the hallow; at my back lay many a mile of divine vignette, my face, the brow of a mighty precipice split in two. I longed to descend into the natural gorge and let its warmth swallow me whole, but I was restrained by a soft voice of vague apprehension; those vagabond words of reason who doze with the wind till their assistance is needed. As I focused more into the black opening and tried to extrapolate what was beyond the void, I was surprised to hear the gurgle of running water. I broke the bonds of superstition and hastened down to yield it.

I groped my way through the snake of a passage as a bunglesome child would do when presented with a feast of the noble and merry. Each footstep I took smashed its way into the damp gravel, sending echoes through the lost chamber like rumbling peals of thunder. The walls slicked my hands and sent shivers down my back; my hair clung to my face due to the wetness of the cave. I rode each toll of thunder closer to my prologues end, and at long last I was treated with a blast of cool air and a shimmer of stinging light. I wiped the darkness from my eyes and greeted myself to an elemental portrait.

I stretched my eyes over a broad landscape of terra incognita; I was astonished to even fathom the vast beauty this sheltered paradise held. Surrounding me were perpendicular precipices, walls to this natural Coliseum. In midst of these white rampart sat a beautiful emerald, elegant and proud; the gems only duty was to be a mirror to the heavens. Two lordly rivers flawed this treasure; one river shone a deep blue, and flowed with the presences of a swaggering stallion; the other slugged along, a thick, heavy black beast that lumbered as though it held the weight of the world in its corrupt waters. Both rivers met in the heart of the colored jewel; their waters waltzed together in a swirling spectacle; it seemed as though both dancers were aware they held the center stage of the world, and left no spectator blasé.

This vision of ecstasy kindled the spark that would break loose my imagination and let it free across the surrounding universe. For on no other country had the charms of nature been more prodigally lavished. Her mighty lakes, like oceans lined with liquid silver, her valleys, gouged into the soul of the land, her venerating cataracts, thundering in their own solitude, her endless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure, her dark forests, teeming with lost ideas of the world’s architects, her skies, kindled with magnificent clouds draped in violet, setting fire to the horizon and the hearts of the beholder-no, never had a drop of scenery unleashed such splendor as this had. I wafted myself in my own imagination ‘till I had reached an absinthe tranquility.

I began to descend towards the valsing rivers, when I had a feeling of paranoia drape itself over my broad shoulders. I looked up at the ramparts of my natural Coliseum and felt the cool air rush out of my lungs. Hundreds of faceless men stood rigid atop the great white walls and stared down upon me with such fixed statue-like gazes, and such strange, lack-luster countenances, that my own heart turned upon me, and the sails of my limbs lost that gust of nature that had driven me so far. I dared not move, else trigger some sort of unholy reaction from the devilish sentinels.

Then the voice came to me again. It whispered words into my ears, blood-ruby eyes perched upon a demoniac wind. Suddenly, the decaying old man was by my side once more. His voice tore through his rippled, ancient throat, and coated my face with imperfect soot. The faceless men set themselves upon me, snarling and gnashing like a pack of rabid dogs, yet remaining motionless in feature. I cringed while the old man spat envenomed laughter at me. He pointed at my soul with a long, grey, gnarled finger, one garbed in flaps of dead skin that slithered round his dusty old bones, topped with a coarse, black fingernail that had been sheared down so brutally it resembled a demented hellcat’s splintered, serrated fangs.

Panic consumed me as the faceless men of havoc drew closer to where I stood. The black river began to rage in a furor of torrent, and unhinged the sentimental equilibrium it had achieved with the blue river in their neutral Carrefour. Now the once poetic intersection had been consumed in a black splatter, disrupting the candid beauty of the now corrupt emerald. I had made a mistake to come to this place, I realized how it had remained perfect for so long; no man could ever spread word of the treasures existence, as no man could ever leave the treasure alive.

Out of the black sun then came a trampling of unstable thunder. The cry of stallion rippled through the treacherous amphitheater, and I turned to heed its call. There, out of the silvery plains came my legendary steed, crashing through my greatest fear with explosive intensity. The black mass of sinew and fable bounded towards my side, and gave me another chance to hope. The faceless men bungled their way closer to me; each second past their unified gasping grew louder until it overpowered any other orchestration of nature. I again grasped tight to the stiff mane of my steed as he lifted me from the ground unto his powerful back.

We charged through the wave of nightmares as a rider and mount combined, together forming one awesome essences of lore. Famine tore through the devilish ranks as I held his neck tight; he was my rock amidst this impossible storm. Finally we neared the river’s focus, the now corrupt, black stage that sat at the heart of this devious jewel. A horde of incubus held rank in our path, focusing their efforts to prevent my escape. Famine took a running start towards the phalanx of foul dreams, each bound more furious than the last. When we neared the unholy wall of putrid flesh, Famine’s back legs discharged like a pair of pistons, and we soared over the heads of every faceless servant and automaton nobody. We then cut back through the velvet sky and came crashing down into the black waters.

Every orifice of my body experienced a deadly rush of chilled, dark liquid. The surface of the slugged pool shattered upon impact and expelled a pillar of slime into the cool air. I flailed my arms and legs but could make no ground in the heavy water. My lungs slowly filled tight with intruding ooze as my thrashing became less and less forceful. Then, a strong hand grabbed onto the nape of my neck.

And I woke up in my own bed again. My clock blared 4:53 in the morning. I sighed. This is only in my head.

The Sidewalk