WE WILL BE AT THE WATNEY STREET IDEA STORE ON
16th JULY 2015
We are pleased to be able to let you know that the Sundial Book Project Team will be at the Watney Street Idea Store on Thursday 16th July from 10.00am until mid-day, you may even be able to hear our writers reading some of their works.
Please come along and join us.
Just for fun, here’s one of my more recent scribblings. Will this be in our next book? Who knows? Read and enjoy:
A MOVING EXPERIENCE
By Mark Mapstone
As I walk through the gates, there is traffic all around. You walk a few yards, and there is the zebra crossing. I don’t mean that there is a zebra actually crossing the road, just a zebra crossing.
On the other side of the crossing there’s a small path leading away from the noise and cacophony of the roads. I take the path.
After a very short time, the sights and sounds which are behind me are gone. It is replaced by peace and quiet.
The grass is green, the rough stony bridleway starts to wind into the trees.
I spent a while taking in the beauty of my surroundings.
After a while I started to notice that buried in amongst the trees and long grass, there was something different, something malevolent.
A chill came over me. All of a sudden I realised that I was surrounded by death. Not just one death, not a few, dozens, or even hundreds, but thousands. Deep in the woods you could see the fallen in every direction you look.
Some had fallen and lay flat on the ground, reaching out as if grasping for help which never came.
Others just lay there accepting their fate, and now are slowly but surely rotting away.
The scariest ones of all are those that died standing fully upright, like statues, sentinels of death, as though they had fought against their killers and put up a tremendous resistance. They are reaching out as though trying to warn others not to come here, to this place of carnage.
It took three hours of walking through the wood of death before I noticed yet something else. Hiding deep in the wood were the young survivors. Amongst all of this death and decay there were the young of the fallen, hiding amongst their fallen elders, as though scared to show themselves.
Now I knew what to look for, I could clearly see the whole picture. The cycle of life and death was laid out before me. A tree grows strong and proud, but recently there were horrific storms, hurricane winds and tropical strength rains. They had all worked together to kill and blow over these tall, proud trees, which now lay all around the wood, with their enormous root balls now reaching up to twenty feet into the air, exposed to the very elements which blew the mighty tree over in the first place.
The trees which had fallen had started to rot away, pouring massive amounts of nutrients into the soil, enabling the young saplings to get a good start in life. These magnificent trees may have fallen, and died long before their lifespan was up, but nature takes charge in these conditions, and makes the best of a bad job.
Looking all around me at the beauty of the living countryside, and the thousands of dead trees scattered throughout the wood, I felt overwhelmed.
The fallen amongst the living.
The last thing I saw as I left the area was all of that traffic again, all that motion, the metal symbols of life and death, moving at blurring speed, but none of it as moving as my last five hours in Richmond Park.