IN THE LAND BY THE RIVER

The timescale in our land by the river has gone haywire.  No one knows from day to day whether it will be tomorrow or yesterday.  Some times the sun rises as a huge blue ball against a pink sky, as our friends just stare in awe. 

Ever since that huge storm that almost blew everyone out of the valley, nothing has been the same.  It blew the pages of my story of the desk, and there were no page numbers on them (sigh. That’s what I get.).  I collected them up but they are completely out of order, but I will try to go on, story by story, and tell you about our friends the best that I can. 

Perhaps the stories will make sense, but I wouldn’t count on it!  Perhaps soon I will find the correct order for them…maybe they are meant to be in a different order than I was writing them?  There seems to have been a lot of “Divine Interventions” lately. 

GEO'S JOURNAL   12/1/2002?

It seems I was struck by a bolt of lightning when I went up near the top of the mountain last week.  After that, there was a windstorm the likes of which I have never seen.  I dodged behind the Huge Rock and surprisingly was unharmed.  A visitor who was staying with me is no longer in my house… no trace of her, and I never even learned her name.

I am closely studying the clock on my study wall: it seems to go forward during the day, but acts very strangely at night.  Sometimes the hands spin as if it is broken.  Sometimes they spin forward, and at other times backward!  As we can’t actually be going back in time, I suspect I may have sustained some injury when the lightning hit me.  I am told that sometimes can happen.

Yesterday morning the sun came up, and it was bright blue.  The sky was pink.  It was tremendously beautiful, but still a matter of concern to me.  There was a small, furry, pig-like creature here by the house, and he knew me, and I seemed to know him, too.  I tried to just forget it, and resolve myself to matters of play, which anyone, even with a brain-injury can enjoy.

I believe that Shiara is still here in the forest in some form.  I am sure she was the red-crested bird that landed on the hood of Aster’s barbecue grill.  I now cannot find the little pig whom I was calling Pigmet. Oh how I wish shiara would come to me, and tell me what is going on!

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4:19:38 PM