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The Sun Won't Rise [Prolouge]
By RaptorHiss
The Sun Won't Rise, Passage I, The Setting
[Prolouge]
Chaos is the darkness that blankets the night.
-Writer Unknown
There is no such thing as darkness; only a failure to see.
-Malcolm Muggeridge, English Writer
A RaptorHiss fan fic...
Chaos lurking in the darkness...
Brilliant pinks and purples darted the evening jungle sky. The clouds, hovering over the rise, began disappearing as the tropical sun set over the tropical horizon. Their tint, so bright, started to diminish as the sun dipped down behind the broad grassy hills of the tropical forest. The irradiant pinks started to fade, turning to a dark purple. The purples, already darkening, turned an eerie black. Soon, all the colors shifted from their once luminous shine to a sullen black. The sky, also pink in tone, started to dim along with the clouds. Almost immediately, everything turned dark, and the colors of the twilight vanished. Only the shine from the numerous stars and the moon were left, the sun unable to be seen anymore.
A large mass of rolling thunderheads gathered in the far distance. In time they accumulated over the region, blocking the stars and moon from sight. White lightning crackled across the skies, followed by the harmonious sound of deafening thunder. Lightning lit up the jungle, the tree's shape flashing visibly for a brief moment, and then disappearing quietly into the darkness.
Silence. All was quiet in the jungle below. Shadows cast by the moon crept silently along the forest floor, swaying back and forth by a vague wind. The drone of cicadas and croaking frogs moved along swiftly in the background, while the sound of distant thunder roared in the farness. The gurgling of a nearby stream blended in with the soft cicadas, adding to its unearthly atmosphere.
The sound of the stream echoed throughout the jungle. A pair of a set of eyes scanned the area, watching vigilantly. A large leopard crouched down in the foliage, its whiskers fluttering in the wind. It lifted its head, and sniffed the cool night air. It then moved forward slowly through the brush. Suddenly, its ears perked up, and it turned towards the stream. There, drinking at its banks, a small furry animal bent down to lap the water. The leopard stopped, and crept down on all fours, concealing its self. It crept forward, low to the ground, bettering its position in the foliage. The rodent continued to drink as the leopard inched closer.
Without warning, the dull sound of the cicadas and frogs grew faint. The consistent creaking of insects cut off abruptly, and a dead soundlessness washed over the clearing. The leopard perked its head up, perplexed by the sudden change. Minutes passed by, and the hush still lingered over. Only the sound of branches creaking in the breeze, and leaves crunching and swaying remained. The rodent paused from drinking, and stood motionless. A white flash of lightning, succeeded by a clamor of booming thunder erupted, and the rodent scurried off into the dark forest.
Still confounded, the leopard arose from the underbrush, exposing itself to the forest, and began walking off. The air around was extremely still, unbearably still. A soft rustle of leaves broke into the quietness, and then all was silent. The leopard turned towards the source of the noise. The trees in front of it, they swayed, ever so slightly, almost barely noticeable. Its leaves fluttered as they swayed, and then ceased. The leopard bore its teeth, pink with blood. Then, inexorably, the foliage began to rustle again. The leopard continued to bare its teeth and snarl. The swaying towered over it, almost ten feet above. The leopard began to back down away from the noise. Then, the swaying desisted, and silence blanketed the small clearing. The leopard turned around away from the trees. As it began walking, a low tone growl arose from the trees behind it. The leopard stopped, staggered back towards it, and bent down to attack...
Discovering darkness...
The radiant sun sent bursts of shimmering light bouncing off the crystal-like surface of the water. The rays of light danced happily as they scooted and skipped along the top of the beautiful green river.
In the heart of the massive Congo basin, the flowing clear river winded endlessly through the jungle's lengthy interior, wiggling back and forth for an eternity. It circulated smoothly as it brushed along the muddy rocks and shores. Its rocky bottom could be seen easily through the lucid waters. Sheer black cliffs ascended high into the sky, surrounding the river into a small peaceful ravine.
A loud scream broke out into the valley, followed by bits of yelling and laughter. The jungle shook for a moment, and a large antelope came crashing through the foliage onto the riverbank, running aimlessly back and forth. Its head and body were covered by a tangle of netting and rope. Several sticks and spears protruded from its back and hindquarters, blood running from the wounds. It screamed painfully, half galloping, half running, attempting to shake the netting and spears from its body.
Behind it, a dozen Batwa pygmies came running from the jungle behind the animal, shouting and throwing spears. Their short legs scurried themselves along the banks towards the dyeing antelope. They laughed and cried out in the joy, for the animal would fall dead any moment now. The forest spirit Jengi must have heard their magic words and chants; they would all dine well on this day.
Ahead of them, the antelope tripped over the tangle of rope that draped it, and fell to the ground. It cried out and tried to stand up to no avail, falling again. It kicked furiously in every direction, and rolled around sprawled on the bank. The group of pygmies soon surrounded the dyeing antelope. They jabbed at it with their tiny spears, slicing into the animal. Soon the antelope kicked no more and lay still in the mud. The men stood still a moment, and then began speaking happily and rapidly in Gru, their native tongue. The pygmies tied the antelope up, preparing to take it home to the village, and hoisted up on their tiny shoulders, still laughing and speaking happily. The Batwa pygmies took great pleasure in the art of hunting, and even greater pleasure when a kill was finally brought down.
***
However, the Pygmies knew their laughter and glee would be short lived. Their lives were changing and shifting rapidly in the Congo rainforest. Western development and civilization was spreading rapidly throughout the forest. Outsiders were threatening the pygmies’ way of life; the very cliffs and trees that separated them from the rest of the world were being broken down. Everything in the primitive pygmies' culture and lifestyle was slowly being supplanted by western thought. Even their hunting techniques and diet were slowly being forced to change with the tides.
Traditionally, there have been two different hunting techniques that the pygmies of the Congo follow; Bow hunting and net hunting. Bow hunting simply speaks for itself. However, net hunting is slightly more complicated, but more widely practiced. Each family in a tribe builds its own rope net made from the bark of certain trees. Each net is approximately a yard tall and up to forty yards wide. During the hunt, seven to nine nets are laid out in a rough circle in the forest. Then, four of five pygmies move towards the center of the circle, in an attempt to scare the prey into the nets. With a bit of luck and many chants to their forest gods, the prey will run into one of the nets and entangle itself in it. Once this happens, it's only a matter of time before the group finds and kills the trapped animal. It was a slow but efficient way to hunt, a technique the pygmies have been using for centuries.
But this method of survival was also being altered by the outside worlds. No longer were pygmies allowed to hunt, but instead forced to convert to a domestic farming lifestyle. The pygmies no nothing of this lifestyle; no idea or experience how to farm or herd animals. They know only how to hunt. A pygmy’s lifestyle only calls for twenty hours of work a week, enough to hunt for food and provide shelter for themselves; the rest is spent doing any leisurely activities they chose. A more demanding farming and herding lifestyle would be a difficult, if not impossible, task to follow. The change would be most deadly to their society and culture.
***
Behind the group of pygmies, the giant orange sun slowly began settling behind the cliffs and horizon. Their peaceful ravine was slowly being shrouded by the night. The first of the stars were slowly making their appearance in the sky. At the sight of this, their playful laughter ceased and they hurried along towards the jungle and to their village.
As they walked along the riverbank, a shimmer of light bounced off the rocks and sand. One of the younger pygmies caught the light in his eyes, and motioned for the others to stop. They stopped hesitantly. He walked over towards the source of the rays, a group of rocks down the riverbank. The light caught him again, and he looked down. Protruding out of the sand and rocks lay a red velvet journal covered in wet moss, soaked with water. The young pygmy looked down and examined it, confused. The pygmy most certainly knew what a book looked like, but the thought that it was stuck in the rocks a hundred miles from the nearest town was a perplexing sight. He bent over and picked up the book. The others gathered around him, to see what was important enough to call the group to a halt.
The young man brushed the moss off the book and opened it up, as the others gathered around to watch...
As always, comments are greatly appreciated.
Passage I The Setting
10/1/2005 7:51:33 PM
(Updated: 10/1/2005 8:21:22 PM)
(Updated: 10/1/2005 8:22:36 PM)
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