In earnest anticipation of,
From Draft One
The World's Over Journal
The Forever Fantasy
By Juton
Towards the portal of a small hollow, high up amidst the branches of a very peculiar Redwood tree in the middle of a most unnatural valley walked, upright on its hind legs, a small black mouse. Beyond the green door which as outlined and pin striped in gold was a comfortable, albeit tiny, home. The forest was a majestic sight to behold, especially when the sun radiated brilliant teal light as it passed through the haze which had overcome the atmosphere for an age of the earth. A testament to the magic which flowed through the once frozen polar waters, at least I would say so, though I am not entirely a reliable source, as I have only been wake for such a short period of time and remember little of the vast history of earth. Upon an ancient earth, long after humans chronicled their history on microchips in concrete forests had passed from memory and into legend in a valley which lay hidden in the highlands hills of the Western Cascades which were part of the Pacific Rim of Fire.
The only surviving sign of the past age lay dormant against the base of the mouse family's Sequoia in the form of a gigantic steel mechanical crab. This was not a pack of dirty little mongrels whom scampered around on all fours only to feed upon rubbage, but an ancient and honorable family of mice whose family name of lineage was Gallant whom had lived for hundreds of generations in the hollow.
The valley was peaceful, home to several civilizations, including the trolls who dwelt along the northern boarders in a citadel built into the side of the mountain. The Angels (better known to us as Elves), along with their demon kin lived in the red marshes under an endless cloud of mist, another city of elves was in the north west, which was mostly underground. Then there were the mice who took to the trees, it is here that we find our family of mice, high up in a mighty two hundred foot round Redwood. Magic was thick within the valley, especially in the forest which had two canopies which allowed very little sunlight to reach the forest floor and if it did it was only as twilight, tiny shafts of light as through a crack in a window shade. Unnaturally large Sequoia reaching into the skies , some of which were nearly level with the mountains, comprised the high canopy. Beneath them grew a red twisted mass of Arbutus and Manzanita bark as it formed the lower canopy, which could be traversed not very different from a labyrinth. I have not even begun to mention the beautiful green fern spotted here and there with red polka dots, or the thick wild blue, white and purple rose bushes mingled in with black berry thorns. It was a boreal rainforest, like so many in the northern hemisphere.
It is in the middle of this valley that we find the hollow and those who dwell within, near to the East is a steady slope, not very steep mind you, which lead down to a deep ravine at the bottom of which was a steadily flowing stream. As I have already begun to describe to you that the particular mice in question are not dirty mongrels, it follows that their hollow is not a dirty turd infested hole in the side of a tree, but a comfortable furnished home, having a great many chairs, book shelves and a kitchen full of pots and pans; much like so many of the homes in the mouse city.
The Hollow's portal was held fast by a bronze knocker, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head, just off from centre on a circular wooden door which was painted green with several golden stripes running top to bottom. Most commonly the door was opened out of generosity to visitors, once invited beyond the thresh hold the smell of food cooking filled the senses which drifted forth from the kitchen, where a fire would be kindled throughout the course of the day, for endlessly mice seem to eat. Inside the main entrance hall upon the left there hung many jackets, hats and cloaks beside many walking sticks from several coat racks. Upon the right was a large closet wherein could be found various hunting equipment such as bows along with arrows, javelin and spears. In the main audience chamber, known to us as a living room, there were several arm chairs and sofas in the living rooms whose walls were adorned with high shelves filled with books.
In the kitchen there were cupboards filled with dried stores of food, more of which could be found in the pantry underneath the staircase, with various sizes of pots and pans hinging overhead. Up the round staircase in a hall adorned with paintings there was there was a bedroom for each mouse with a dresser a coat rack and a most comfortable bed of dry leaves stuffed inside a frame and covered by the owner's favourite coloured sheet, beside which stood a dresser, though never was there a mirror.
On any given day as one would pass by on their way up the tree, from deep within the sounds of laughter could often be heard for the forest folk, especially the mice, enjoyed a life games, when they weren't farming, hunting or off scouting in perpetration for a raid, which usually lead to a war; though in the mouse wars there was no blood shed, it was just another game when all would gather to watch the epic battle. When someone did die, it was usually from a slip and a long drop down to the forest floor, that is if that particular battle was held in the trees.
Not all beasts had been woken by the deep magic during the times when of humanity's decline which lead to the last war, when the pure water had flowed into the oceans out from the Arctic realms and up from deep wells within the earth, they had remained asleep and were hunted in the circle of life. Upon their four foot thick branch the Gallant family had brought earth up from the forst floor to tilled for the planting of grains. After a long day the mice families could be found resting comfortably in their arm chairs and sofas whilst dining upon super, a mug of ale never out of hands reach, while the father would speak of heroic deeds in ancient times long past.
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