When the birds fly southCoblentz, Stanton A. (Stanton Arthur)
Science
When the birds fly south
Coblentz, Stanton A. (Stanton Arthur)
Afghanistan -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
In such a mood I began to warm my flagging spirits and to plan for
the winter. I should have plenty to occupy me; there were still many
cracks and crannies in my cabin wall, which I must fill with clay;
there was still much wood to haul from the forest; there were heavy
garments to make from the skins supplied by the natives; and there
would be my food to prepare daily from my hoard in the cabin, and my
water to be drawn from the stream that flowed to the rear of village.
Besides, I might be able to go on long tours of exploration; I might
amuse myself by examining the mountain strata, and possibly even make
some notable geological observations; and I might sometime--the thought
intruded itself slyly and insidiously--satisfy my curiosity by climbing
to Yulada.
Emboldened by such thoughts, I roamed the woods for hours, and returned
to my cabin determined to battle unflinchingly and to emerge triumphant.
* * * * *
It will be needless to dwell upon the days that followed. Although the
moments crawled painfully, each week an epoch and each month an age,
very little occurred that is worthy of record. Yet somehow I did manage
to occupy the time--what other course had I, this side of suicide or
madness? As in remembrance of a nightmare, I recall how sometimes I
would toil all the daylight hours to make my cabin snug and secure;
how at other times I would wander across the valley to the lake shown
me by Karem, catching fish with an improvised line, even though I had
first to break through the ice; how, again, I would idly follow the
half-wild goat herds that browsed in remote corners of the valley; how
I would roam the various trails until I had mapped them all in my mind,
and had discovered the only outlet in the mountains about Sobul--a
long, prodigiously deep, torrent-threaded ravine to the north, which
opened into another deserted valley capped by desolate and serrated
snowpeaks. The discovery of this valley served only to intensify
my sense of captivity, for it brought me visions of mountain after
mountain, range after range, bleak and unpopulated, which stretched
away in frozen endless succession.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account