The Wary Traveler by M. C. Dulac EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: M. C. Dulac
- Language: English
- Genre:Metaphysical Fantasy eBooks
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Afterwards, I wondered if I could have changed things, and at what point I
could have turned back. I guess the warning signs were always there, but
curiosity is a powerful thing. Like a kid setting off on a journey from his
grandpa’s yard, I was guided only by a sense of destiny, and such small
details as to whether I should have gone or what I would do when I got
there, did not cross my mind. Maybe real life was never going to be enough
for me. Maybe I’d always felt the desire to explore, to question, to find out
the truth. Maybe it was all set in motion long before I saw the Himmelberg.
Although, from the first time I saw those white-blue snowy slopes,
everything that followed seemed inevitable.
My eyes drifted to the window of the Ferienstadt Tavern. It was early
summer in the valley and the hillsides burst with color. All of nature wanted
to prove it had survived the winter. The flowers in the window boxes were a
brilliant red and the grass by the roadside was a brilliant green. Above the
rooftops of the alpine town, the Himmelberg, serene and undisturbed,
soared into the sky, so far from all the turmoil of the world. I gazed at it for
a full minute. No, I would not have changed things. What was done was
done. And after all, the events of which I speak, happened over three years
ago.
Looking around the Ferienstadt Tavern that afternoon, any regret I felt
soon vanished. It was as bad as I remembered. The oompah oompah band
had just finished, and the d-jay was playing old eighties rock music, the
same posters advertising the same beer were on the walls, the same tired
kitschy decorations were strung from the wooden beams, the same wooden
tables were packed with tourists – different tourists now, although they all
had a sameness about them – throwing back jugs of the warm German beer
and shouting to each other in their own languages.
I sipped my drink and looked across the room.
A young woman sat by herself at a table in the corner. She was pretty
and fresh-faced, with soft golden hair. She drank a coke while she studied a
map. As I watched, she raised her eyes, blue dreamy eyes that stood out
against her pale skin. I smiled. A faint smile crossed her face as she
deliberately buried her nose in her guidebook.
I knew she was aware of me.
“Where are you going?” I said, putting my beer on her table and sitting
down opposite her.
“To see the Alps,” she was a little shy.
“Munich, Salzburg, Innsbruck,” I glanced at her map, “A good trail.”
My tone was unconvinced. Her eyebrows rose a little.
“Always the tourist trail,” I said, “But where are we really going?”
She chewed her lip, “To see something -”
“Something more than this?” I tilted my head at the tavern, with its
garish decorations and tourist posters.
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