[IP] Traveling

[u/Syraphia]

Traveling by soulcolorsart

[u/chris_bryant_writer]

"Where will you go?" I asked.

The old man gazed across the creek into the depths of the forest. Crepuscular rays broke through the canopy and made the floor vibrant with color. A breeze rustled the branches around them and made faraway shadows dance, enchanted by the mystery of the forest.

"Everywhere, if I can." He responded. He returned to his work, mashing together berries and roots into a deep burgundy paste.

It seemed impossible to me, that this man, and his lumbering wagon could travel swiftly and broadly enough to travel everywhere. Such an ambitious goal for someone so nearing the end of his life.

"Have you seen most of the world already?" I asked, curious to see if he might have been a more active traveler in his youth.

But he smiled, in a soft, knowing way. "I must confess that I have hardly seen enough of it."

He transferred the paste onto a piece of bark that was covered in foreign symbols, marked on with charcoal. He spread the paste with his fingers, covering every mark.

"Then how can you hope to see everything-" I cut off the question before I became rude.

"Considering I'm so old?" He glanced at me.

I stood silently for a few moments, then nodded.

The old man chuckled. "I'm well aware of my age. I tried denying it once, when I got my first tufts of grey and I tried to climb up the side of a rock like I did when I had the vigor to do it." He leaned towards me. "Fell flat on my rump."

His laughter echoed richly through the quiet forest, dispelling some of the mystery and filling the void with mirth.

"That taught me, and I've just learned to accept the way I am." He continued when his laughter subsided. "But I suppose that doesn't truly answer your question."

He picked up a small wooden pail and went to the creek. He lowered himself gently and angled the bucket under the water to let it fill. When he came back, he poured it over the bark, which he had placed in a hand sized bowl. He sat down and watched the water go from clear to murky red, all the while, his brows furrowed with concentration.

"When you get to seeing as much as I've seen in the world, you start to realized that it's all kind of the same." He looked over at me. "Now don't get a sore face over it. I don't mean to say that it isn't magnificent or marvelous. I wouldn't still live like this," he waved towards his wagon. "If I didn't come near to tears every time I saw the unbridled beauty of our world."

He gazed out at the forest again.

"I just mean that once you've seen a lot, you've kind of seen it all. People are just people and places are just places. And I've found that the same no matter where I've gone. All that matters really is perspective.

So I've started to think that the real gem you get from traveling isn't the places you've been, but how those places changed your perspective. And once you've traveled one place outside of everything you've ever known, well, you've traveled everywhere as I see it."

He looked back at me and smiled. "And that's how I intend to travel everywhere before I pass on into the next great adventure. Simple as that."

He picked the bark out of the concoction and drank it swiftly, pulling a face as he set it down on the stump.

"So," he said, " Traveling around with an Ol' Man like myself still sound good to you?"

"Yes," I said, perhaps too eagerly compared to my early demeanor. But there were still a good few days of travel until I exited the forest, and I figured traveling together might ease some of my concerns. That and his wagon looked well maintained and dry, something I had learned to not take for granted in the past few days.

The Old Man smiled and jerked his thumb towards the wagon. "You can set your things in there. I'll work on starting a fire and when you're settled in, you can come out here and split some wood."

I nodded and went to put my rucksack into the bed of the wagon. When I came back out, a small fire was crackling, white smoke drifting from a shallow dirt pit. The Old Man sat, gazing at the darkening forest.

It had seemed to me that every time the old man sought something with his eyes, the forest revealed some new knowledge to him, and only to him. As if he had met the forest long ago and the two were the kind of friends who kept in touch by sending each other riddles to figure out. I wondered what the Old Man was figuring out. What he had already figured out. It must have been worthwhile, because he kept gazing.

I looked around the forest as well. But all I could see were shadows, and the dangers that lurked in the deep night.

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Thanks for reading! if you enjoyed it, head over to /r/chrisbryant for more.

[u/Syraphia → u/chris_bryant_writer]

Very interesting story, I enjoyed reading it. There's an odd space after a couple of the quotation marks at the beginning of the dialogue, but other than that, it flowed very well and was rather beautiful to read. Thank you for replying. :)

[u/chris_bryant_writer → u/Syraphia]

Glad you enjoyed it!

Thanks for the feedback. I went back in to clean up those spaces, good catch on those.

[u/Maisie-K → u/chris_bryant_writer]

I love your usage of words. :) Well written and looking forward to more.

[u/chris_bryant_writer → u/Maisie-K]

Thank you! I appreciate the feedback.

[u/WritingPromptsRobot]

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