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Sleep emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar

You awaken in the middle of the night, it seems you have drifted off into sleep yet again. You found it hard not to while listening to the old turtle go on and on about his family, the lands they came from, and the boring history. Though you can’t help but feel like the things he was talking about might have been important.
You shrug it off and step off the boat after your new friend, looking around at the shoreline. Further out within the shrubbery you find houses dotting the horizon in the path of a long road leading away from the riverbed. The huts made of thick poles and raised high off the ground astound you as you make your walk along the dirt road. Their hay rooftops catch your eyes, as you can detail out individual bundles of dried grass and mud lying atop of the houses, tied together in thick bundles. This experience is so novel to you that you barely notice the old man beginning again on another one of his long rants.
“-And oer’there considered the medical hut. S’where ya go if ya’s get hurt.” You look to him smiling, you nod as he continues. “Now the history of this building-” your mind is carried away once again by the details of your surroundings; various pottery decorates the huts, torches line the dark streets, droning musical noises surrounding you from the insides of houses. The turtle stops in front of you abruptly, he whips around slowly to face you. “An this is where you’ll be stayin fer now.”
You stand before a large central hut, right in the middle of the road. You turn around to see the walk you had just made from the river, from there you can see straight into the dark black water, harboring tiny white sparkles as it reflects the moon’s light.
“My house!” the old one continues, you shrug your shoulders and roll your eyes.
“It wouldn’t hurt to have an experience at like, a faster pace.” You think to yourself, as
You follow the shelled old man into the hut.
Upon entering you behold a room adorned with a thousand trinkets. Masks with elongated faces hung up on the walls with spears converging in an X over them. Adorned with brightly colored feathers, weapons of all sorts hung on the walls; arrows, axes, dart shooters, even more spears. You ponder the use of these things, or even if all of these items have even been used.
Pots striped with colorful dyes and bowls dotted with hand prints and finger-smeared decorations. Images of different creatures drawn all along the walls, from low to high every inch is covered in a new color; a new decoration.
A middle aged tortoise greets the elderly one in a door threshold.
“Welcome back father” She says while embracing the old man.
“This is ma beautiful daughter Elizabeth” he shows her off, “the very beginning of my legacy.” This causes you to wonder, ‘legacy?’ how many children does this old man have?
Over the next few days you find yourself in a house filled with children of all ages running around, shouting, doing daily tasks, and games. You find yourself growing fond of some of the children, not even being annoyed by the constant stimulation.
“This sure is a change of pace” you find yourself thinking this multiple times over this period of time.

Written by Driftingdragon on 01 December 2019

Both Time Passes

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