Search for the Sunlight

Basil’s grandfather was a leading figure within the community.

A sturdy Scots pine of strict Presbyterian upbringing, Charles S. Treewood had been an active and respected member of the Grand Council of Forestry Affairs for as long as anyone could remember.

Amongst his duties, it was his responsibility to ensure that life in the forest ran smoothly and, in his spare time, when he had any, he liked nothing more than to indulge in his favourite pastime, astronomy.

Many years ago, working from the blueprint in an out-of-date copy of the quarterly journal ‘Interstellar and Unusual Galactic Phenomena in the Known Universe’ - a publication which he had stumbled upon in the waiting room during one of his rare visits to the Tree Surgeon - Charles built a large and powerful telescope.

Employing a hollowed out oak trunk, a large sheet of mirror glass, two tins of French Grey paint and a variety of miscellaneous ironmongery - all of which he recovered from the depths of his shed and cost him nothing - he began construction.

After endless months, patiently grinding and polishing the mirror glass for the lenses and several lengthy visits to the Treewood Central Reference Library, in order for him to fully grasp the principles of chromatic aberration and magnification, his work was finally completed. Through sheer hard work and single minded determination, Charles S. Treewood had become the proud owner of the finest and most powerful telescope in the land.

At first his knowledge of the night sky was limited, but with continued practice, he was soon able to locate all the major constellations in the galaxy without need for reference maps or star charts.

Early one mid-summer’s evening, while observing the sunset to the west of the Gogo River, something unusual caught Charles’ attention.

Instead of the usual deep rich red normally associated with the reflective particle distribution in the stratosphere at this time of year, the light had taken on a pale insipid yellow colour. In his notes, he likened the effect to that of a partial solar eclipse or to a late November afternoon when the sun would normally sit much lower in the sky. But it was only June. Something was wrong.

The weeks passed and, allowing for seasonal adjustment, the days became unnaturally short, until one morning in early August he rose from his bed, pulled back the curtains to greet the new day and, to his dismay, it was gone! The sunlight had mysteriously disappeared. In its wake, a fine white frost, faintly illuminated by a sinister greenish-blue half-light, was all that remained.

Over the following days, a thin, wispy mist crept in. It appeared, at first, like wood smoke from a distant leaf fire on a still autumn evening, but as the temperature continued to fall, the mist thickened, resulting in a freezing damp fog that engulfed everything in its path.

As if it were winter, his healthy green pine needles began to wilt and his rich copper-grey bark faded and flaked. The crystal blue waters of the beautiful Lagoon succumbed to a covering of sludge grey ice and all but the hardiest of plants and creatures fell silent.

Almost overnight, the great forest had become a place of darkness and despair.

During the long cold months that followed, Charles worked alone in his observatory, searching the heavens for clues as to whom, or what, had caused the environmental catastrophe that threatened the future of Treewoodkind. But in spite of his vast knowledge of the cosmos, and all the technology to hand, all he could see was fog.

Late one afternoon, suffering from the extremities of cold and exhaustion, he finally abandoned his search and, with a heavy heart he wrapped his precious telescope in protective oilskin sheets and returned home to contemplate the bleak future that lay ahead.

That evening, alone by the fire, a ghostly apparition appeared before him. Shimmering in and out of focus, like supernatural visitors from the spiritual world tend to do, the mysterious electroplasmatic messenger instructed the old Treewood that as Elder in charge of forestry affairs, he must travel east, beyond the Gouldong Mountains and the Sea of Dreams to search for the missing sunlight.

A few sinister moments later, with its short but fateful message conveyed, the spectre exploded in a spectacular burst of white light and disappeared into the ether, leaving behind a strong smell of burning ozone, a rusty compass and an ancient parchment map.

Thoroughly shaken by his brief encounter, Charles S. Treewood packed a few essentials into an old lapsack and, following the messenger’s instructions, set off in an easterly direction, into the unknown. To date, he has never returned…