badstar

For anyone who's interested in reading a little bit of what will be on the filter I mentioned in the previous post...I was born in this town. I lived my entire life in this town. Since the moment of my birth, I have never left.

We are an isolated place. There are two roads in and both require crossing difficult mountain passes which can only be done on foot. It may happen thrice in a generation that a traveler will pass through and guests, being so rare, are cause for celebration. A household is selected to serve as host to the visitor- a coveted privilege. The choice is made by lottery and all families have an equal chance, be they the poorest or the richest in town but no matter who is chosen, everyone gives something to the celebration. The town comes to a standstill and overnight is transformed into a carnival with feasting, music and all manner of performances of the folks’ various talents.

My family had this honor once. I must have been fifteen or sixteen years old at the time. Our guest was a young man, four maybe five years older than I. We are not a poor family though not especially wealthy so our home was not large enough for extra rooms. I was displaced to sleep on a pile of cushions on the floor of my sister’s room. I did not mind- it was a traveler, only the second in my lifetime, and this one was sleeping in my room.

I don’t remember anymore where he was coming from or going, only that he had become hopelessly lost on account of taking the wrong mountain pass. He remained in our home for a week. Each night I stayed up late talking to him- I must have made such a nuisance of myself, but I told him about our town, our people, my family. And he told me about himself…but would not speak of his home, his travels or anything in the world beyond the pass that led him here. No matter how many times I asked or what inventive ways I could think of to phrase my questions, I was unsuccessful. On one or two occasions, he nearly did answer but then I noticed that my father caught his eye and gave a single, threatening shake of his head and our visitor quickly paused, smiled and informed me that those were not interesting matters of which to speak and changed the subject to inquire about the history of the buildings in the town square or something equally bland.

Perhaps he might have been more willing to talk about those things were it not for my parents’ stern presence- at the time, I liked to think so-but perhaps not. It was only after he had departed that I learned the reason for his unshakable refusal to answer my questions.

Visitors to our town, celebrated and honored guests, are extremely rare and welcome as if they were royalty. But that welcome only remained if they were willing to forgo speaking of the world outside for the duration of their stay- under threat of death. A watcher is posted at all hours of the day and night at both entrances to the town in case someone happens along. These watchers are posted there to welcome the visitor and to inform them of this condition. There may have been many more visitors but I would later learn that most chose to turn back and find other routes, difficult as they may be, given the alternative. As such, our watchers are never at their posts without a map and compass.

This condition was absolute and enforced without prejudice. The first visitor in my lifetime- I barely remember her- had been an old woman. I don’t know how she ever made it to our town on her own. I was not present to witness her transgression but my mother explained to me later that it was a genuine slip, and she stopped speaking as soon as she realized what she was saying. For this, her execution was merciful. I would not find out why speaking of the outside world was so strictly forbidden until I was much, much older.

Please note, this is very rough. Comments welcome but not looking for real, serious criticism just yet. And really, I'm just posting it here right now for anyone who wants a peek before getting themselves on my filter.