A Field Guide to Grend
Roots followed complicated paths around the land, dancing like endless snakes in and out of the ground. Trees wearing an extravagant assortment of crowns were shooting out of the ground with thoughtless determination, while their branches shouldered a less-than-polite distance from their neighbours. The branches wove a seamless wooden lattice that spread in every direction, reaching out farther and farther. Stretching their limbs to catch something that continuously moved further and further away from them, filling every single gap. The land's lack of relief had an air of laziness to it, but the vegetation was ambitious: verdant mountains bubbled on the horizon in an attempt to choke the sky out of existence. Leaves of near-infinite shades played mischievously in the many-named winds, the light of the sun bouncing on them, or sinking a little through their vesture, imbuing the leaves with a warm, organic glow. Like flat gems, or candy. That was, of course, when the sun could reach them. Grend was rich in shade, and delighted in making the most elaborate hiding spots.
The forest had a start, but no end. It seemed to split the entire world in two distinct halves, a line drawn neatly around lands and seas; telling a vague story of I’ll be here and you’ll be there. It couldn’t even be of a humbling size, simply because it was impossible to get a sense of how large it was. It gave the distinct impression that it wasn’t done growing quite yet, and was simply waiting for the right moment to swallow the whole world.
Ten thousand different species of birds were trying to catch ten million species of insects. The size of its inhabitants could range from a fairly tall mountain to the runt of a litter of dust motes, as it sparkled briefly in a lazy ray of sun. Some didn't like being seen at all. They danced a mischievous quadrille in the periphery of your vision, and stayed there. Though, if you gave them a treat, they might step out of their preferred blind spot to say hello. That is, after you discovered what their favourite food was. It can be complicated when you don’t even know who or what you’re inviting for dinner.
(a few words from the beginning)
A rather large forest
I am currently writing an illustrated novel of sorts, as some kind of solitary roleplaying experience. It's somewhat in-between the neighbourhood of fantasy and new weird (the funniest genre name).
The book is nearing completion, which means I'm doing editing pass number 2891.
They hiked for a few days. Days; their length never quite felt the same. Invariably, Kreetchet would start setting camp mere minutes before the night turned off the lights—often all at once, which had been surprising the first time.
In the morning, the world changed. Geela didn't notice how different the surroundings were until she paused a moment and thought really hard about it. The world changed whenever she slid down in her shelter-cloak for the dreamless slumber of the tired walker. But not only.
It could also change from one side of a bush to the other. Five steps around a large trunk there might be an uncharted playground. Giggling at the perspective of being found out by a hiker-trespasser. Equally delighted in staying hidden: the game would go on.
Forests of skinny cedars, as thick as Geela’s leg. Smooth bark, impossibly tall.
Forests of giant balls. Of moss. Of lichen. From which mushrooms spawned and exploded into glittery clouds of spores shimmering pleasantly as they lazily floated around the deep, dark, greenness of the fluffy spheres.
Forests of tormented oaks. Reasonably small, these ones. An artsy grove with troves of inspiration: seemingly to become crazed graffiti of contorted branches. Zigzags; loops; spirals. Corkscrews and concentric circles. Limbs writing words in an absurdly complex cursive alphabet; one entirely ignored by Grend's translating magic.
Inky doodles
I get tired of being on a computer, so my goal is to illustrate the novel the old-fashioned way. At first, I was determined to do it with a dip pen… Well, actually, that's what I might do (but I also discovered how rich the world of fountain pens was, so there's that).
