The Wobbly House at the end of the world and the Council of Rabbits

Part 1

The scientist had been walking in one direction for two long days, moving further into the barren country. He noted in his mark-pad that few parts of the land had farming potential, that the terrain was overall red and broken with scarce and prickly vegetation; he made sketches as he had got accustomed to doing every hour or whenever the view changed notably, and finally stopped by the shadow of a tree for some deserved rest away from the rays of the scorching sun. A herd of wild horses ran past him at great speed. After good rest he made a note that this vast flat landscape was both haunting and pleasing to him, he was still unsure of how this type of information would eventually feature in the Park-hallmark-Maps – his life’s work – he was aiming to avoid things like that, feelings. Being far from scientific they had no place in such a valuable document but for now he had no choice but to jot them all down, though of course he hadn’t given up the idea of finding his way through logic alone and truly getting rid of this annoying activity he had succumbed to. Since he started the mapping task forgetfully many moons ago he had, increasingly so, acknowledged his state of mind as a vital ingredient of the description of each parkscape, not because it was easier to explain what he saw that way, but because it was unavoidable. Without it the park wouldn’t have its varied views. When he first started he had spent much time going from the top of a hill down through the various paths taking note of every single thing. He used to sit on a park bench, feeling like the architect of a beautiful empire as he recorded, sketched and measured the remarkable surroundings in minute detail, he was at the summit of it all and he could without difficulty see the task ahead. It was when he started noting his state of mind, which by the way led him to hang upside down with his legs over a large branch of an abandoned and robust oak tree for half a day, when the intricate and mystical paths had shown themselves to him.  Therefore, even though he knew that it was an unethical way of recording facts, he couldn’t help it; it was what had to be done. This day, in the stillness of the shade he continued to verify his mood, he sensed intense hope, a couple of times he could have sworn it touched his fingertips. Hope, why hope? Who cared about hope? Then it was there again, strong and clear, hope was touching the tip of his little finger and in the distance a wave formed in the sky, a cold breeze made him turn around, and just there in front of him, a stormy ocean appeared. A small and humble country house was drifting on its dangerous waters, the door opened and myriads of whispering voices shot through his ears.

They had all forgotten why they called her Queen, but that was her true name.  This day the humble house was as any other day, spinning still. The Queen was submerged in wonderment of her last creation, a perfect specimen of her fine taste, this one alone could very well be the reason she had survived the hardship imposed on her throughout these last years.  Her graceful large eyes were fixed on a black dress, straight, above the knee and with three white diagonal stripes across the top extending over a three quarter sleeve. Elegant and practical it was, like herself. She didn’t notice that her younger sister, the Princess was modeling the dress with much discomfort, partly because she didn’t like the stripes down the sleeve, they felt exaggerated and too rigid, on top of that she was hungry and anxious and the offensive stripes made her feel like one arm was heavier than the other. Her face clearly marked her distress, but this was an important moment for the Queen to savor and nothing was going to spoil it for her. The clammy smell of the stew brewing next door, squash, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, beans and beef shank was tormenting the Princess.  Maybe what bothered her most was that she didn’t understand why she had to follow her sister’s dreams when she had her own. She wanted to leave this place for true life adventures, the wobbly house was at the end of the world and the only way to save herself from falling off the edge, which happened to be just there after the fence by the row of thin tall trees, was to get away as quickly as possible, but she had no idea how. Some days when she looked out of the window, she could see a big ocean next to the rabbit cages; its glimmering beauty called her, telling her to sail away. This both amused and frightened her. Her daydreams were so strong that she was collecting timber to build a boat, just in case the ocean actually did work out to be real. Today, after their meal the Princess felt especially sad and went to sit under her lonesome fig tree to cry a tear or two.  She was completely unaware of the plans that were breathing the air that very moment. The council of rabbits had decided to take action, and when the rabbits do, they sure do a lot.

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