“Follow me.”
That’s what the paper said. That was the very day that my life underwent a metamorphosis. That paper, that woman, all of it. I would come to look back upon it all and be forever grateful. I will do my best in the following account to retell the story as I saw it at the time.
Rural England has always been a place of cold, soggy, and melancholy people. Seeing someone who was anything but drab was a rare sight to see, so when an impeccable woman handed me a piece of paper as she passed by, I felt a strange energy and I knew. I just knew I had to follow her. As I saw it, it was a chance to fly away. A chance for a taste of freedom and adventure.
I snapped out of my trance and looked around. I was left with nothing but the soft snoring of the ocean waves and the faint chorus of song birds. Looking down on the damp earth I saw footprints heading towards the west. The boot mark had a stamp with a circle of arrows pointing in all directions. Suddenly any trepidation I might have had left me and I started to follow the footprints. I knew I couldn't let this woman go. I crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it into my coat pocket. The trail led me on for some time. Finally, I stopped. In front of me stood the old village cobbler house. Its gray stone wall had a mundane effect on those who stood before it. I knew that the old abandoned building was off limits to the public, but I needed to go in. I couldn't keep living this cumbersome life of mine.
Little eyes look up at me and, without hesitation, scuttle away into the safety of darkness. I step around what I thought was a mouse nest, aware now that there are animals living here. I am engulfed in darkness. The inside of the old cobbler shop is damp. Not like the damp smell of the countryside of England but a different kind. A suffocating kind. The kind that keeps minds who lack curiosity out of it’s walls. Abandonment is written all over this building, but there's something about it that calls you in.
I sigh. No women, no one at all; only the shivering of my spine from the cold. Looking around I realize that all of my efforts to follow this women might have been futile. I scoff at this thought and look around searching for anything of interest. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I realize I’m standing in an empty room. Despite my expectation, nothing filled the dull space. But then an empty golden picture frame with a brown tarnish catches my eye. It hangs in the back of the building perched on a rock jutting from the wall. It has a fluted pattern on the frame that slowly turns into twisting flowers around the inner edge. It doesn't have a speck of age on it; the picture frame completely unaware of its remarkable state in such a shabby environment.
In front of the picture frame, seven feet or so, stands an elegant book stand with a spirling trunk. A thick, dark, and aged book sits on the stand. It is almost begging for me to come open it. I walk towards the book stand and plant my feet in front of it. The pages have a hint of gold on them that seemed to have the sun shining on them even though the old building windows were opaque with dust. I run my fingers over the book's spine and meticulously examine it. What am I even looking for in this abandoned building? I think to myself.
I flip the heavy cover of the book over to its side. The book releases a redolent smell of spring that fills my nostrils. The smell swirls in the air. It’s freshness is like a wild garden that is unbothered by the outside world. My mind races and my hands become eager to discover what really is in this book. I managed to turn the book to the 11th page. The pages are blank. To my astonishment, the page slowly starts to change. The page pulls colors out of thin air and mixes them with precision and focus. Slowly, a photograph starts to form. My zeal for this mystery grows as I look into the developing photo. Finally the book is finished.
The picture on the page is something I’ve never seen before. There’s a little dirt path centered in the middle of the page and a dilapidated fence following it on both sides. Lichen grows freely on the old wood. The sides of the road have vibrant green grass growing while it sways in the wind. Colossal queen Anne's lace lines the path while it shades life below it from the sun. The oak trees don’t even compare to the queen Anne’s lace. Thick trunks are scattered along the side of the road while their branches hang below the giant flowers. Little meadow flowers gather at the bottom of the plants. Fuzzy grass and flowers cover the earth like moss on a rock. Down the middle of the path, grass peeps up from the dirt. Through an opening in the green forest is a view of mountains, catching my attention. Beside the thick oak trees, little birch trees are coiled like springs and reach for the sky. They are wrapped almost like snakes but they head straight for the open sky. There are bees that hum along in their lazy way, but there's something different about them. They are flying upside down and they are the size of footballs. Their peach fuzz is no different though. There are also fish swimming in the sky with top hats on!
I look up and a smile crosses my face. I flick my eyes to the picture frame that has caught my focus. The once empty frame now has the same picture as the one in the book. Believing it's an illusion, I walk over to the frame and study it. The life inside of it seems so real. The life inside of it is beautiful. Out of the corner of the frame a cat strolls by walking with a swiveled, dark oak cane on two legs. He is dressed in a leather bomber jacket and aviator goggles. His face is gray with age, but his eyes are enigmatic behind the glasses. A feeling of reverence grows in my chest for this strange cat. The fellow feline stops and turns. He stares directly at me. I step back in surprise and a little bit of fear.
“Well, are you or are you not going to come along?” the cat says with a deep Scottish accent.
He reaches out a paw and beckons for me to somehow follow him. Something switches on inside of me.
This is it. This is the way out and the adventure I’ve been looking for. I step forward. A smile full of pure encouragement forms on the cat’s face. I step into the frame and, before throwing my whole body into this new world, I take a look back at the place I’m leaving behind. The woman who I couldn't find stands at the book stand. She stands with perfect posture and a look of complacency on her face. She gives a wink and a quick smile and with that, the cat grabs my hand and I dive fully into the picture frame.
That’s what the paper said. That was the very day that my life underwent a metamorphosis. That paper, that woman, all of it. I would come to look back upon it all and be forever grateful. I will do my best in the following account to retell the story as I saw it at the time.
Rural England has always been a place of cold, soggy, and melancholy people. Seeing someone who was anything but drab was a rare sight to see, so when an impeccable woman handed me a piece of paper as she passed by, I felt a strange energy and I knew. I just knew I had to follow her. As I saw it, it was a chance to fly away. A chance for a taste of freedom and adventure.
I snapped out of my trance and looked around. I was left with nothing but the soft snoring of the ocean waves and the faint chorus of song birds. Looking down on the damp earth I saw footprints heading towards the west. The boot mark had a stamp with a circle of arrows pointing in all directions. Suddenly any trepidation I might have had left me and I started to follow the footprints. I knew I couldn't let this woman go. I crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it into my coat pocket. The trail led me on for some time. Finally, I stopped. In front of me stood the old village cobbler house. Its gray stone wall had a mundane effect on those who stood before it. I knew that the old abandoned building was off limits to the public, but I needed to go in. I couldn't keep living this cumbersome life of mine.
Little eyes look up at me and, without hesitation, scuttle away into the safety of darkness. I step around what I thought was a mouse nest, aware now that there are animals living here. I am engulfed in darkness. The inside of the old cobbler shop is damp. Not like the damp smell of the countryside of England but a different kind. A suffocating kind. The kind that keeps minds who lack curiosity out of it’s walls. Abandonment is written all over this building, but there's something about it that calls you in.
I sigh. No women, no one at all; only the shivering of my spine from the cold. Looking around I realize that all of my efforts to follow this women might have been futile. I scoff at this thought and look around searching for anything of interest. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I realize I’m standing in an empty room. Despite my expectation, nothing filled the dull space. But then an empty golden picture frame with a brown tarnish catches my eye. It hangs in the back of the building perched on a rock jutting from the wall. It has a fluted pattern on the frame that slowly turns into twisting flowers around the inner edge. It doesn't have a speck of age on it; the picture frame completely unaware of its remarkable state in such a shabby environment.
In front of the picture frame, seven feet or so, stands an elegant book stand with a spirling trunk. A thick, dark, and aged book sits on the stand. It is almost begging for me to come open it. I walk towards the book stand and plant my feet in front of it. The pages have a hint of gold on them that seemed to have the sun shining on them even though the old building windows were opaque with dust. I run my fingers over the book's spine and meticulously examine it. What am I even looking for in this abandoned building? I think to myself.
I flip the heavy cover of the book over to its side. The book releases a redolent smell of spring that fills my nostrils. The smell swirls in the air. It’s freshness is like a wild garden that is unbothered by the outside world. My mind races and my hands become eager to discover what really is in this book. I managed to turn the book to the 11th page. The pages are blank. To my astonishment, the page slowly starts to change. The page pulls colors out of thin air and mixes them with precision and focus. Slowly, a photograph starts to form. My zeal for this mystery grows as I look into the developing photo. Finally the book is finished.
The picture on the page is something I’ve never seen before. There’s a little dirt path centered in the middle of the page and a dilapidated fence following it on both sides. Lichen grows freely on the old wood. The sides of the road have vibrant green grass growing while it sways in the wind. Colossal queen Anne's lace lines the path while it shades life below it from the sun. The oak trees don’t even compare to the queen Anne’s lace. Thick trunks are scattered along the side of the road while their branches hang below the giant flowers. Little meadow flowers gather at the bottom of the plants. Fuzzy grass and flowers cover the earth like moss on a rock. Down the middle of the path, grass peeps up from the dirt. Through an opening in the green forest is a view of mountains, catching my attention. Beside the thick oak trees, little birch trees are coiled like springs and reach for the sky. They are wrapped almost like snakes but they head straight for the open sky. There are bees that hum along in their lazy way, but there's something different about them. They are flying upside down and they are the size of footballs. Their peach fuzz is no different though. There are also fish swimming in the sky with top hats on!
I look up and a smile crosses my face. I flick my eyes to the picture frame that has caught my focus. The once empty frame now has the same picture as the one in the book. Believing it's an illusion, I walk over to the frame and study it. The life inside of it seems so real. The life inside of it is beautiful. Out of the corner of the frame a cat strolls by walking with a swiveled, dark oak cane on two legs. He is dressed in a leather bomber jacket and aviator goggles. His face is gray with age, but his eyes are enigmatic behind the glasses. A feeling of reverence grows in my chest for this strange cat. The fellow feline stops and turns. He stares directly at me. I step back in surprise and a little bit of fear.
“Well, are you or are you not going to come along?” the cat says with a deep Scottish accent.
He reaches out a paw and beckons for me to somehow follow him. Something switches on inside of me.
This is it. This is the way out and the adventure I’ve been looking for. I step forward. A smile full of pure encouragement forms on the cat’s face. I step into the frame and, before throwing my whole body into this new world, I take a look back at the place I’m leaving behind. The woman who I couldn't find stands at the book stand. She stands with perfect posture and a look of complacency on her face. She gives a wink and a quick smile and with that, the cat grabs my hand and I dive fully into the picture frame.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.