{"id":1883,"date":"2009-04-09T17:51:00","date_gmt":"2009-04-09T21:51:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2009\/04\/09\/the-landscapes-of-my-youth\/"},"modified":"2012-01-26T22:17:51","modified_gmt":"2012-01-27T03:17:51","slug":"the-landscapes-of-my-youth","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2009\/04\/09\/the-landscapes-of-my-youth\/","title":{"rendered":"The Landscapes of my Youth"},"content":{"rendered":"

I had an active imagination when I was younger \u2013 I dreamed up elaborate histories for the fictional worlds that inhabited the landscapes around my childhood home.<\/p>\n

This is sort of a \u201cdescription\u201d of the world I\u2019d imagined around my home, but it\u2019s also partly a story of a single day \u2013 or maybe a single year.<\/p>\n

This is typed up from a notebook where I jotted them down, so it\u2019s a little rough. But it\u2019s interesting, so I thought it might be worth sharing.<\/p>\n

Enjoy.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Gomez: The Kingdom of the Elves, perched high atop a forested hillside \u2013 jutting out into the swamp.<\/p>\n

With its flat top and steep sides, and the deep forest perched atop it \u2013 a reminder of the elder days where the elves lived in safety, hidden away from the prying eyes of men.<\/p>\n

The Valley of the Pines \u2013 cut by the Great River \u2013 divides the elder forest from the younger forests to the north.<\/p>\n

The Great River, which feeds into the swamp, which stretches for miles, eventually turning into a marsh of salt waters where it meets the sea.<\/p>\n

The Great River tumbles its way down the valley from the mountains to the west, carving its way among the ancient stones, moss-grown pools where some say you can still see fairies playing in the summertime.<\/p>\n

Deeper to the south, the forest continues to stretch through great folds in the land, carved east to west by some long-dry river \u2013 or perhaps by the rays of the very first sunrise.<\/p>\n

Far to the southwest, the ruins of an ancient civilization. Overgrown now with trees, save for the few stone-paved areas that still stand warm in the sun, through time is wearing them thinner and thinner. Silt covers the once shiny stones, and grasses and small shrubs grow in what was once a bustling square.<\/p>\n

The ruins are empty now, all but forgotten, even by the trees.<\/p>\n

Further south \u2013 the great wasteland of the southern desert stretches across endless miles \u2013 impassible to all save the wind.<\/p>\n

Pine trees and dense groves of pines mark holy places in the world \u2013 even if elves and men have forgotten them and no longer worship in the old ways.<\/p>\n

To the West \u2013 the once great Western Forest now stands in ruin \u2013 an open plain of scrub grass and bushes. A blight years ago wiped out all the trees here. In between scraggly & thorny bushes, the remains of ancient forest temples still stand.<\/p>\n

To the North \u2013 a younger forest grows, thin in places, for this is the home of men. In places there are great clearings \u2013 fields for the food of men.<\/p>\n

Further north, the Icy Mountains \u2013 the White Mountains loom. Here is a land of ice and snow. Nothing lives here for long. Even the Sun seems somehow weaker the higher into the mountains one goes.<\/p>\n

In the morning, at sunrise, the mountains in the West glow blood red in the summer\u2026 and sparkle like pearls in the winter.<\/p>\n

Deep in the valleys a thick mist clings to the trees and the rocks, still whispering its sorrowful song.<\/p>\n

The leaves \u2013 Golden in the Sunrise.<\/p>\n

The air \u2013 the breeze from the Sea to the East: the Breath of the Sun.<\/p>\n

The Midday sun bears down in summertime, but the forest remains dark and still and cool.<\/p>\n

Evening is falling and the mountains in the West are a black silhouette against a deep red sky. The chill wind comes down from the mountains and twists its way among the trees and rocks \u2013 the rocks, now cold in shadow \u2013 the trees, now long shadows crisscrossing on the ground. The silence that falls upon the forest is so intense \u2013 none dare break it.<\/p>\n

Night falls on the Deep Forest.<\/p>\n

The elves move now in the moonlight \u2013 nothing more than the flickers of shadows to the eyes of men. Little else stirs \u2013 the forest at night is no place for mortals.<\/p>\n

Even the rocks and trees seem filled with malice to the eyes of anyone brave \u2013 or foolish \u2013 enough to venture out into this deep dark.<\/p>\n

This is the Landscape of my Youth.<\/p>\n

In the middle of it all is the Green Tower, the meeting place of all the good peoples of the world \u2013 elves, men, and dwarves. An ancient structure, full of mystery \u2013 none know all its secrets. Whole sections of the tower \u2013 including the uppermost floors \u2013 remain sealed forever, their keys lost in the depths of time, but their doors built to outlast the ages.<\/p>\n

As of late, the elves have retreated deeper into the Southern Forest. The swamp has grown, pushed by the force of the sea deeper inland. Soon, the Kingdom of Gomez may become an island among the swamp \u2013 which itself may become a great lake, as the land continues to sink.<\/p>\n

The Great Waste to the South continues to move and shift its ever changing sands.<\/p>\n

The fields of men seem ever more common.<\/p>\n

And somewhere, hidden amongst it all, lies the secret to the Green Tower and the ruins of the world\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I had an active imagination when I was younger \u2013 I dreamed up elaborate histories for the fictional worlds that inhabited the landscapes around my childhood home. This is sort of a \u201cdescription\u201d of the world I\u2019d imagined around my home, but it\u2019s also partly a story of a single day \u2013 or maybe a single year.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"webmentions_disabled_pings":false,"webmentions_disabled":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[212],"tags":[213,214,104],"class_list":["post-1883","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stories-personal","tag-fiction","tag-imagination","tag-stories","entry"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pimUj-un","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":397,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2005\/02\/25\/desktop-madness-vol-12\/","url_meta":{"origin":1883,"position":0},"title":"Desktop Madness Vol. 12","author":"Keith Survell","date":"February 25, 2005","format":false,"excerpt":"Everybody loves stern-looking elves with swords, right?","rel":"","context":"In "Pictures"","block_context":{"text":"Pictures","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/pictures\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":631,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2004\/09\/18\/sanctuary\/","url_meta":{"origin":1883,"position":1},"title":"Sanctuary","author":"Keith Survell","date":"September 18, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Sanctuary: A Poem by Keith M. Survell.","rel":"","context":"In "poems"","block_context":{"text":"poems","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/poems\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":3908,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2012\/07\/04\/the-old-man-and-the-forest\/","url_meta":{"origin":1883,"position":2},"title":"The Old Man and the Forest","author":"Keith Survell","date":"July 4, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"A short story that's been floating around in my head recently about a strange old man who lives on the edge of a forest who might be more than he seems.","rel":"","context":"In "Stories"","block_context":{"text":"Stories","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/stories-personal\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":208,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2004\/08\/16\/computers-legos\/","url_meta":{"origin":1883,"position":3},"title":"Computers & Legos","author":"Keith Survell","date":"August 16, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Computer people (hackers) like me have a strong affinity for lego. I still have my lego collections at home; but legos today aren't the same; there's too many big custom pieces. Here's a quote from a favorite book of mine called \"Microserfs,\" by Douglas Coupland.","rel":"","context":"In "fun stuff"","block_context":{"text":"fun stuff","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/fun-stuff\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":1234,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2008\/07\/26\/the-night-was-dark-and-still\/","url_meta":{"origin":1883,"position":4},"title":"The Night was Dark and Still","author":"Keith Survell","date":"July 26, 2008","format":false,"excerpt":"I ran across this the other day - an old story fragment I had written long ago. The night was dark and still, but they could still see the figures dancing.\u00a0 Like shadows, they seemed to melt into the very darkness that created them.\u00a0 Yet still there was no sound,\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "personal"","block_context":{"text":"personal","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":635,"url":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/2004\/09\/18\/whats-your-dream\/","url_meta":{"origin":1883,"position":5},"title":"What’s your dream?","author":"Keith Survell","date":"September 18, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"What's your dream? A short poem by Keith M. Survell.","rel":"","context":"In "poems"","block_context":{"text":"poems","link":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/category\/personal\/poems\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1883","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1883"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1883\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1883"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1883"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.starkeith.net\/coredump\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1883"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}