Notes From an Amateur Writer #8 - The House at the Edge of the World

I am now into my 2nd week in @dragosroua's 30 day writing challenge. So far I have managed to publish an article every day, and have it loosely based on the topic of writing. For the 30 days at least I still intend to publish 1 per day. After that then we'll see. Probably not as often. And by then I may start looking at getting back into story publishing. But for now I am enjoying the challenge, it's a lot of fun.

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THE HOUSE AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

I just started to write out a (very) rough draft intro or prologue to the Nomad idea I discussed yesterday. There is definitely a novel in this, just not sure when to allocate time to this, given all the other projects on the go.

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He had been on the run now for many days. Without an awareness of just who he was on the run from, or even the exact reasons behind the pursuit. But there had been clues left. Hints detected. Subtleties reached out to him through the ether and communicated with his intuitive capabilities. At least that is how he explained it to himself. A darkness had encroached, but only since he had entered the city. This grand, modern metropolis. A place that appeared to be more of a monument to the skyscraper, and the flashing neon light, than an actual dwelling place for humans. But it was their dwelling place. Millions of them. Not that he had counted them. An estimate, derived from the overwhelming size, noise, smell, and density of the urban cage he now found himself in.

Nomad had never seen anything like it. No such cities existed in the reality he had known originally. Nor had any such urban jungle been witnessed in the previous realities he had found himself in. He no longer kept count of those realities. It must have been in the dozens by now.

And just like the first time it had occurred - the awakening into a seperate, and unknown version of planet Earth – the jump between worlds had arrived without fanfare. Without anyones notice, or attention. But the details have stayed vivid in Nomad's memories. The exact place from which the first jump was launched. The one that brought him to the second alternative dimension. If that's what it is? Nomad believed so. Dimensions, alternate realities; does it really matter? It mattered to him once, way back. When this was all so new. Frighteningly new. Some of those pieces have been put together. Some of those mysteries have been observed. But probably just a small fraction of the grand mystery Nomad now found himself in. And he knew it. He had come to peace with his new found status as a lost traveller between dimensional worlds and realities.

Every day upon waking he would remind himself of what he held to be a solid fact. He made himself speak the words aloud: "One of these dimensions is my home."

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Now Nomad found himself in a world that was bearing down on him like nothing he had felt in any of the previous realities. A presence, far greater than just the mega statues of concrete, steel, and pulsing electricity hung over him. It actually appeared to hang over the whole world. Did the other people feel it? Had they just learnt to live with it? Nomad had no way of knowing, not without getting to know the locals. And that could happen, if he found the opportunity. If the time presented itself.

The problem, as Nomad saw it, was this presence. Was it this dimension's sense of awareness of the invader in its midst? As crazy as it sounded it was no more insane than the notion of being in a dimensional loop. Nomad now found himself in a reality, or a series of them, where the old rules of what defined normal or otherwise just could no longer be relied upon. From this point on he would really have to be on his guard.

And he needed to get out of the city. He knew exactly where to get to. It was the one constant on each and every version of Earth Nomad had encountered.

Nomad needed to get to 'the house at the edge of the world'. That is what he had come to refer to it as. It was his one and only known exit. The portal, to places unknown. From his current place unknown. He had no choice but to keep trying, until he found himself back home. For some reason it existed on each and every version of Earth he had found himself on. A constant in a see of variables.

The only problem he faced now, as far as he could determine was just exactly where on Earth was he? This city was massive, but it could be any where. He knew he had to start somewhere, and usually the best place for that was the place he was currently located in. Was there any other option?No there wasn't. Nomad knew what task lay before him – leave the city and find 'the house at the edge of the world''. It was his only exit; his only potential way home.

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Images sourced from unsplash.com.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked it then please like, comment, and follow.

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Notes From an Amateur Writer #1 - The Search For Inspiration
Notes From an Amateur Writer #2 - A Call to Action: Interacting With the World Outside of Me
Notes From an Amateur Writer #3 - Facing the Challenge
Notes From an Amateur Writer #4 - The Soundtrack to Grief and Loss
Notes From an Amateur Writer #5 - Music as a Catalyst for Imagination: Jimi Hendrix's Little Wing
Notes From an Amateur Writer #6 - The Stories All Around Us
Notes From an Amateur Writer #7 - Introducing Nomad [A Cyberpunk Mystery in the Making]

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