The Whispers to Florent

Original artwork by Kyle Newbridge

Dearest Samantha,

I have reached my destination. I rest midway up a mountain I have designated Florent. Here, there are no monsters to keep me up—save of the mind, those only banished by time.

To describe Florent in one word, I might use green. So green is it here: the sky shines a valiant emerald when the sun rises; the sun sets, and it becomes the drowned green of a deep, cool lake. Within the green, the mountain is filled with life—the bats fly every night. They fly lower, near the bottom of the mountain, then they come up and feast on the bugs before turning in for the morning. Samantha, you would love how they swirl—like an army of ballerinas. They seem more at peace here, without the looming presence of what we left behind.

I must tell you of the journey. I passed two peoples, one in the desert and one in the forest.

Within the forest, there was a city full of warriors such that you would not believe. They festered feasted and drank every single night! The city was in the densest portion of the rainforest, and it rested inside a hemisphere of metal—dull and battered, yes, but unscathed. Every day, its doors opened of their own volition at dawn, then they closed likewise at dusk. Those foolish enough to stay outside would be left to fend for themselves until daybreak.

They were lucky if the shifters got to them first.

No one can live alone in the rainforest at night. They say it’s the whispers that do you in, say it’s better to be taken by the shifters.

I left soon though, as I could not stand the noise. It was distorted, of course, but the metal hummed unnaturally at night. A knock here, a moan there. Nothing any old home doesn’t do at night anyway. It was a sorry reason to go.

I like it here, at Florent. No wandering guard, no warriors or monsters: it is almost like home. I live on the mountain, and, so far, I’ve remembered not to look down.

I hope that you are receiving these. I still urge you not to follow me—and if you do, show caution.

I will save more of the journey and my studies as memories, or journal entries to tell you about later. After all, it is so uneventful here—save the bats at night.

If you come here, Samantha, you must be careful. Beware shifters, be in before dusk, and do not look down. Never look down. I will do my best to follow the same advice, of course.

Be safe, Samantha. Please be safe above all else.

Deepest Affections,

Tomas Cohen

P.S. –  I will tell you more of my travels in the next letter. Concerning the sand people!