Scene 0147

Scene 0147

I. The Fields

From Lore Master: Epicurus

"Once again Townsend was off across the fields, those friendly fields, his only comfort. How he loved to lie looking up at the sky or face downward gripping a handful of grass as if to bind him closer to the earth. He lingered on an old stone fence, throwing pebbles into holes here and there or poking a stick under the mossy rocks. He lit a cigarette and resting a hand against a tree, legs crossed, he stood looking out over the countryside. The low hills ran off to the east in gentle curve, all a soft brown, spotted here and there by lanes of trees, beautiful in the autumnal tints, and clumps of bushes lingered between the fields in no lesser glory than their tall neighbors. There was a lurking heaviness in the air and the soft sighs of the dying year permeated the atmosphere with drowsiness. Only the movement of a horse and carriage defied the lotus-flower essence of that afternoon and where it moved a faint cloud of dust rose behind the spinning wheels and sickened the leaves of grass beside the road."