Follow the Arrow

A Sudden Tocsin

After some time, John had given up trying to avoid stepping on the flowers, though he did so with remorse. The task had become impossible and wasted precious time.

How interesting, that scent, John thought as he trudged. How is it I am seemingly the only one who knows of the existence of that... that... meadow! Yes—that meadow? Surely someone had found this, one time or other? Then, John's thoughts went back to just that morning: he was off on his way to work, his mind blank and his intentions mundane. Presumably, it held a similar likeness to everyone else's. No one would desire to seek out nature.

A sudden tocsin disrupted John's reverie as he came upon the end of the meadow; it ended in a large rock formation, standing as easily as fifty feet tall. He glanced behind him, searching for the source of the sound. The noise came again, but this time in front of him. He snapped his head forward, meeting the beedy eyes of an estranged-looking creature with a black, elongated mouth, sitting on a lower level of the rock formation; the black exterior of the creature had an almost shiny quality, like obsidian.

Careful not to disturb the creature, he took a tentative step backward. The creature, in turn, cocked its head to the side as if in condescendence.

At that, John approached the creature, trying to ignore the pounding in his heart, ready to properly interact with it. However, he never managed to reach it, as it flew away in a series of "caw's." He watched the obsidian thing fly away in amazement until it was hidden from view behind some —surprisingly— white clouds. John frowned. Though the creature did not appear to be particularly fond of his company, and himself likewise, he couldn't shake the sense of mysticism left behind in its wake—the mysticism that something could fly. And not with any mechanical assistance either; the entire mechanism in its flying was all purely, it seemed, natural.

"Natural...," he whispered. The word tasted foreign in his mouth: awkward and misshapen. Before he could ponder over it, a sudden note pierced the air for the second time that day. Suddenly, a similarly-shaped being fluttered its tiny body on a rock above the black one had sat. The being made the same note again—except, unlike the one previous, this one sounded... musical. A similar sound replied back some distance afar. John whipped around to see another creature fly into existence and sit itself beside the other one. They were both enveloped in a smooth texture of rosewood, and their protruding mouths were small and seemingly sharp.

Having settled down comfortably beside each other, they began exchanging a series of the aforementioned notes. They were high-pitched, but gentle; piercing but soft; mundane but unusual. John listened intently to their conversation, eyes locked on them as if he could understand every word of their discussion. Of course, he could not understand a single item of their conversation. To him, it was merely a similar exchange of notes, but he was captivated by those sounds. He wanted to imbibe the sounds into his soul and let them stay there, eternally echoing through him, because for a moment, he realized he simply could not stand the prospect of returning to a world absent of that music, replaced by the cranking of machinery and acid rain pattering against window panes. The thought ate at him, and he quickly disposed of the prospect, returning his attention back to the... birds, he realized.

He vaguely remembered hearing they had once populated nearly every continent until the air pollution had eradicated almost all of them. And seemingly, some of them were able to find a sanctuary here—wherever here was.

Then, some unseen force captivated the attention of the birds, and they flew off into the distance, disappearing into an oblivion. He glanced woefully in the direction of the birds. He knew his task was still underway, but he couldn't help but mourn the loss of their sweet music.

He looked up at the rocky structure, and took a deep breath. The next part of his task would not be so easy. He shed his coat in preparation for it.