I Got Lost (Part 1)

Hey.
To the families of those who were holding their breath waiting on me to keep up my (loosly) weekly schedule of release, my condolences for your losses.
I assure you that I feel the absence of such vehement fans keenly. I know that it's not easy to train one's self to hold one's breath for a week in the first place, but if it's any consolation to any of you, they died doing what they loved.
While it will never return those brave respirationauts to us, perhaps I can explain the circumstances of my departure.

I Got Lost

Behind the house where I lived as a child, there is dense growth of vine and hedge, which was allowed to conquer the property boundaries. A chain-link skeleton served as its vestigial lattice, but even in my youth the rusty remnant fence had swapped roles with the hedge, and hung supported in its thick tangle.

A break in the original fence in one corner of our property created a natural opening that to my child eyes looked like nothing so much as an arched doorway, and I treated it as such. The opening led to a small concrete-covered drain, installed by the ancient peoples to drain rainwater. The little space was nothing much to anyone else, but I remember it as my forest citadel - a meter or two in the privet, just far enough to be out of sight.

A little more than a month ago, I stopped by the old house, like I suppose everyone does at some point. The re-visitation of old memories is a strange and grounding thing for me, so long as those memories basically match reality. The house was there, of course, and much the same as it had always been. The rocks and trees we'd installed were largely gone, but I smiled to see the apple tree I'd planted was thriving now, in stature if not in apples.

The hedge still loomed behind the house, and remarkably the opening remained, easily compelling me to investigate further.

My memory told me that the slab-drain wasn't far inside, and as an adult I fully expected to be immediately upon it, as misremembering size and distance was the prerogative of the childhood memory. Instead, I found myself wandering for several seconds before coming across the thing. This in itself wasn't strange except in hindsight, and it certainly not the strangest aspect of the space, because the path continued on after the drain in an inviting way that I can't imagine having never followed as a child.

I resolved to fix this oversight as an adult, now that I had adult muscles and wits to defend myself, (and felt no guilt for being outside of the range my mother's shout. Actually, I think that was a rule, now that I think about it.)

At first it was just a low, vaguely triangular opening in the branches, much more comfortable for something like a dog than a grown man, but after a while it opened up into a full-fledged path between the houses. The hedge was too thick to see through here, but the path was now wider, taller than I was, and a thin layer of green moss covered the ground between the rows.
I'm not a great scholar of the natural world, but I do remember a nature show talking about the ongoing war of wild plants, and how each inch of ground in wild spaces is a battleground for light, nutrients, rain, and root space. The moss here was obviously holding its own, because no sprouting trees interrupted its dominance of the path.

I didn't think about how far I'd gone until I'd gone beyond the neighborhood and into the woods proper. The path opened up and revealed the sprawling green world, reminding me that in the south, one is never too far from the woods.
I checked the time. It wasn't even noon yet, so I decided to explore.

The path led to a large granite boulder, smoothed to a gentle incline and half covered with the pathway moss, and I followed it down to a small, shallow stream that I'd never known ran through the area. I followed the water downstream, and it led me to an old style hand-made stone bridge, which was mostly covered on the sides by the same hearty moss I'd seen on the path and boulder behind me.

I climbed up the bank of the stream and looked up and down the dirt trail that the bridge was in service to, and saw a man approaching from one direction, at a casual pace. His wrinkle-framed eyes peered out from underneath a wide-brimmed hat, his face wearing a neutral expression. He didn't acknowledge me, didn't wave...but his eyes never left mine, and as he approached I got the distinct impression that he wasn't walking down the path, he was walking towards me. The solution was a simple one - I turned around and went the other way.

At this point, I was pretty sure I'd found the back way into a nature trail attached to a local park. The bridge was a touchstone of civilization, and the dirt trail was established enough to show regular use. I expected to come upon a playground, or a soccer field, or a civic complex, and soon enough I'd know exactly where I was. The unequaled thrill of discovering the secret way to Wal-Mart.
The trail wound through the woods languidly, past the uninterrupted green on both sides.

I began to hear a sound that I couldn't quite pin down. It lived at the edge of my perception, and seemed to wait for me to stop listening for it before presenting itself again. Sometimes I was sure that it was the sound of distant cars on the highway, but other times I recognized traits of a vocalized melody, somewhere in the woods. Discerning the sound distracted me for a while, and I let my mind wander as I continued along the trail. Distracted, I never saw where the new person came from, but farther down the trail stood a man in a costume.

From the neck down, he wore the immaculate black and white livery of an early 20th-century household servant, complete with smart white gloves pulled tightly against overlong fingers. On his head, he wore the skull of an animal - a long, dirt stained cervine face, with gracefully spiraling horns which extended several feet over his head.
He stood to the side of the path with perfect posture, hands neatly folded on top of a long wooden cane with a brass ball topper.

I stopped, because of course I did.
The day had been strange already, and running into someone like this did nothing to help reassure me that I'd be back home soon. He made no move towards me, and only acknowledged my presence once I came within conversational distance. He turned his inscrutable mask towards me, and bowed his head in a single acknowledging bob. On closer inspection, I saw no breaks in the mask, and the eye holes were depthless, betraying nothing of the man inside.

"Mmm...hey."  I said, drawing closer, but on the far side of the path. "Fine day for a walk."

The skull canted an inch to the side as if curious, and a sturdy, very male voice replied to me. The tones had a clarity and resonance I hadn't been expecting. No hint of an echo, or the muffling usually associated with masks.
"Indeed. Alas, neither of us have the time for one. For you are on a journey, and I must wait here."

A strange response from a strange man. I passed him, nodding, wanting nothing more than to put him behind me, but once I had, I realized that I'd be a fool not to ask him where I was. He hadn't moved, when I turned to face him, the skull still staring after me with absent eyes.
"Um. Scuse me. I came to this path while I was hiking through the woods, and I really don't know where I'm going. I've been walking for a while now with no end in sight, can you tell me how to get back to town?"

A moment passed in silence. The man seemed frozen in place, and I wasn't sure he'd registered my words, but just as I opened my mouth to say more, he replied.
"You'll find town the way you're headed. It's not far, now."

I smiled, and turned to go, but he continued to speak.
"May I offer you a few nuggets of advice?"

I shrugged. "Advise away."

"Never buy fish, except with good coin. If you must choose between brothers, choose the eldest. Do not look a vulture directly in the eye. If you must cut a thread, choose the color you least prefer. Glass has memory, and you can trust it. The cost of a broken promise is a broken heart. And most important of all, keep your feet on the path."

I had no idea what to do with that, but the man's voice was so certain in its proclamations that I could only nod in acceptance. "Okay, thanks."  I pointed down the road in the direction I was headed. "But town is this way? Not much further, you said?"

The skull nodded once, slowly.
"You should be going. It's best not to let him catch up to you."

I put his final statement into the same mental bag as the rest of his statements, for later sorting. Then I waved a last goodbye, and resumed the journey towards what I'd assumed would be my home town, but wasn't. As I moved, I rolled the strange advice over in my mind, wondering at the symbolism behind each bit of fortune-cookie wisdom.
I don't know what became of the man, but without his advice, I wouldn't be here, more than a month later, writing this account.
May the Pathway lead him home.

~~~~~~

TL;DR - Part 1, Keep Your Feet On The Path