A delightful tale of a travelogue with a message for everyone!

It is a truism that not all dreams come true but good things might come to those who are courageous enough to try to go beyond the boundaries of conventionality. Indeed, forging one's own path in the world of printing is not a bed of roses since the competition is pretty formidable but having a book published is the ambition of every storyteller. Moreover, an ambition is, perchance, a good enough reason to dream big and there should not be any holding back since if it is to be it will be down to one's effort and resolution; however, dreams are not made while one is asleep, since they need to be nourished with the right vibe for a longer lease of life and take them to a final frontier which might see one's dreams to be realised. Having said that one ought to be aware that not all dreams come true and past experiences have shown that tons of aspirations can crumble to the ground in the twinkling of an eye, just like sand castles subside to the ebb and flow of the tide. Certainly, in the world of printing, a cherished hope that begins life optimistically pleasant can easily become a disappointed one. Notwithstanding, it must be said that the passionate choices that one makes in life are often fraught with far-reaching consequences and, of course, those choices, together with the changes they bring to one's life, need to be analysed to measure the impact they might cause to one's sense of one's relative position and purpose in one's existence. Nonetheless, this the moment of truth and as it is expected there is a combined element of anticipation and intrepidity on my part as I begin to pen the words of my tale.

A large poultry-yard was the setting chosen for my meeting with a Satyr named Boris "The Woodland Centaur" Johnson as he seemed to have a liking for domestic fowls as a source of food. He was a creature who commanded much of draw and fear for he smallest things could irritate him. It has been said that many of its foes had fallen in the dust and beat the earth in great physical pain while trying to tackle this atypical tailed creature, part man, part goat. Sweat was pouring down my face as the sweltering heat made me feel uncomfortably hot which might have made him think that I was afraid of him, but I was not. He spoke in a quiet distinctive voice squeezing out the words as if he had an oral impediment; it was beyond doubt that his self-confidence had been enfeebled but his spirit was one of a brumby horse, wild and unbroken in the guise of the wind, free and loose and in desperate need of his surroundings. Indeed, it was for me to see that he had been subjected to mental tension which might have been putting a great demand on his natural resources of tolerance but he needed to lean on someone for help and advice.

The intensity was scorching as the day became hot-tempered, but I had an awful lot on my mind to be concerned with the heat, after all, it was fate that I was to meet this creature rather than the desire of the Gods to punish me for the audacious deed which gave the Greeks and Achilles the burning of Troy in revenge for Paris' misdemeanour when he absconded with Helen of Troy in my tale Travelling Through Time.

Indeed, Apollo and Mercury seemed to have agreed to join forces in order to warm the Earth like Hades that particular day which made the rendezvous an enthralling tryst. Certainly, the intensity was scorching and as the day grew hot-tempered, neither he, nor I appeared to be agreeable with the sweltering heat. As he cantered towards me, he was clearly in a state of disquietude as he seemed to be carrying the world upon his shoulders, but I was ready to meet and willing to help this creature from a period of time way before mine.

Streams of sweat was pouring down his forehead as he neighed, in a toneless utterance, obscenities to the Heavens which was an evidence of his disgust at the inequitable treatment he had been made to endure at the hands of the followers of the Monotheism because of his polytheistic beliefs and his outward aspect. His affable eyes stored many tears of sadness but none was poured forth. I held my breath for a moment before I was forced to chase after the wind in search of a breath of fresh air since I needed to compose myself in order to delve into the imaginary world of Greek legends where Gods and mythological monsters held people's fates in their hands. I was very sorry to see this creature from the past experiencing the pain of intolerance in our existing world, since he was obviously a being from a lost world that still lives in the imagination of modern men and the like, indeed, a world of the time before the present when men were ruled by fates and furies, and the Gods were many.

An inward joy seemed to enforce my heart to smile as we shook hands, and I swelled with pride at being treated as equal by this awe-inspiring creature. I never underestimated this creature intelligence and the goodness of his heart, and when then I knew a little more about his plight my apprehension soothed and I was able to drive the mindless trivia to one side and my mind was then filled with an unparalleled high moral of a sublime quantity which awoke in me the perspicacity that only hindsight can ever supply, and made me realised that this creatures was desperate to go back to where my imagination could only hypothesise and needed my help to do so. I took it in trust that he wanted me to help him to find the way to return to his era, and I only hoped that he had not placed his hopes far too high above the sky.  

My head was spinning and a time machine was needed. Certainly, apprehension always arrives with fear, and I was concerned with events in the past which might have repercussions to my present life for I was fully aware that the laws of physics which governs the universe would make it difficult for my going back to a seemingly lost world. Fortunately, without being angelic or Divine, I have been blessed with celestial imagination and creativity, and, in any case, I had been to the past and made it back to the present before, only this time I had a companion with me on board. My spirit was up and I had confidence in lorry loads but some dreams take a little longer to build than others. Not much ruffles my feathers not even bolts of lightning which sputtered from the sky, turning dawn into night which made the day aged and almost blind, but I knew I could solve the most intricate engineering problems without leaping at every ripple on the surface of the Earth, and as I put my signature to the device on a stormy day I came up towards the light achieving my expected success with pride;

The time travel machine was completed and our journey to the past was ready to start. With the Moon in our side, we were set to go the distance and as the lightning bolts of electricity launched the travelling device our journey to the past was expected to be a memorable one. This was very much a case of taking on the world type of thing, but I could not think of anything more exciting to do than making a trip to yesterday and live to enjoy the day. On a wave of emotion and motion the travelling time machine blasted off into space as we left the present for the past and flew without feathers or wings into an infinite sky.

The night was quickly chased away as the twilight turned into dawn and of all the good deeds I have ever done in my entire life this might yet be the best one, but I was extremely glad that I was the first person he approached to ask for help, since I believe in the final frontier, and with my unique experiences of travelling to the past, there was a multitude of reasons for my wishing to help this creature to return to his world in the wild past. My passion is to travel into space and travelling into the time before the present time has no corresponding parallel in the existing time or the time to come since I believe that time is no time which is the hypothesis of most travellers of ancient times. Slamming the brakes of the device as we reached our destination was a child's play. We stopped a few feet short of a crevasse. Nature is all powerful and it had struck a near lethal blow to the environment and the legacy of that blow was destruction. Whole communities were wiped out and Boris' village seemed to have disappeared altogether. This might explain the reasoning for the mighty vault that, literally and metaphorically, sent Boris to the future.  All in all, all was not all right but I was mighty sorry to see all the destruction on my path and Boris comforted himself as he walked with the thought that he was back to his world but the experience of this ill deed that nature had dealt to his environment and kind had embittered his soul which made him feel a fierce displeasure for the Heavens, and it needed to be recorded in the books of mankind so that this happening would be read by everyone and not be allowed to be ever forgotten.

The new Moon was very deep and full of meaningful fascinations that night with all things glittering as if by a magical illusion which added mystique to the harness of the imagination. indeed, this experience was of  real spiritual value to me for I was very touched by Boris' pain and the destruction I found before me which created an uncomfortable melancholy fandango into the darkness recesses of my mind as tried to make his pain less acute.

A stentorian rambling of a man howling at the gods was heard. It was Boris' utterance which was captured by the meandering wind of the outer space of his environment, and it was a truly passionate expression of grief, and a manifestation of an untrammelled pain and the loneliness that he was experiencing that day. The benefit of hindsight was not needed to realise that Boris' world had crashed down in obscurity, and he did not have many torches to shine along his path.

The train of thoughts continued but his pain had no bounds; however, the need to plant a seed to rebuild his world was needed and in order to do so blood, sweat and tears were in urgent demand. It is a truism that grief does not last forever, and he had to understand that in order to move on he had to believe that his makers were not his masters. I am a philanthropist at heart and the practice of helping people less well off than myself is my religion, and I have given Boris a foot in the door by helping him to build his confidence with plenty of good advice. The lions must be made to heal and what a sweet moment that might be if he were to attain so but I could not vouch for that; nevertheless, he would be pressed hard to work hard for that or his private conflicts might bring his soul and determination to obliteration. However, I had to return to my own time and kind so for the present I bade him farewell and wished him good luck for the future in his past world. Not before time, I soon found myself speeding away from Boris' world on my time travel device. Indeed, Boris' long eventful journey to the future and the past had been an odyssey and his world had become a real dystopia were things were as bad as they could be; he was so entrenched in his own thoughts and world, looking at the pale sky that towered above his head, that he failed to notice my taking off. 

The sky looked great with its brilliant lights and as the fascination of a combining amalgamation between the past, present and future - as a continuous whole and turning as if on a hinge - was still holding my attention, it has to be said that I was mighty pleased to be back to my own time and kind. 

There is an incongruity in the thinking that one cannot make a return to the past and be back to the present in time for one's evening meal at one's behest; my only hope is that my travelogue provides the rejoinder to whoever questions such an eventuality ever occur. On the other hand, the future is open to those whose minds are very distant from conventionalities and accepted views, and to those who are prepared to go beyond established conceptions and conformities. 

Outside in the bright sunlight, I know as certainly as I know anything that the present is impatient of the past as the latter more often than not seem to point to a discreditable prominence of the former with many incompatible things at once. However, I find it tiresome that so many intelligent people can remain blind to the advantages of closer union with the past since it offers one the benefits of experience that only knowledge can provide. For all that, one ought to use the past as a beacon to enlighten one's wisdom and make one's own self-discovery. Indeed, one can learn an awful lot from the past since knowledge is a light that never fails to shine and it would be irrational to suggest otherwise since there are some experiences we only ever need once. A case of deja-vu comes to mind but there is a point in searching one's memory once in a while for that familiar tale's entrance which says "once upon a time" for most intelligent folks seldom lead simple existence and their outstanding intellects enable them to see things beyond reasonable explanations.

P.Figueras

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