All This be True.

All these things are true and came to pass although there is no proof of either, only these words; I believe them and you can choose to, there will be no offence if you do not. Only loss.

 

One late September evening, as the dusk settled around the stones, a young man sat on a desolate hillside watching the evening close over him. The day had been long even though the autumn was shortening them now, and he had walked many, many miles. He was tired but not hungry, content not sad and he lay down expecting to sleep. The stones gave him shelter from the wind which hurried from the western lands he had left behind; there was a distant smell of rain but he did not care, he had a thick coat.

 

But he could not sleep.

 

The rain never came but the wind carried memories from which he had no protection; they tumbled around him like dogs fighting for a bone. At first he struggled to forget and then he relaxed and let them overwhelm him; at one point he cried. Finally, as the moon set in the eastern dawn he stood up and started walking, hoping to leave them behind amongst the stones for someone else to find.