A Grass Field in the Middle of Nowhere, Great Waterland, Saturday Morning
Dolf woke up to the sun in his face, the racket produced by a small flock of blackbirds, and the sensation of grass tickling his ear. Considering he'd gone to sleep in bed last night, that was peculiar, to say the least. He sat up, and squinted against the light. The sun wasn't up far yet, and the sky in which it rested was a calming cornflower blue with clouds drifting past.
Something was very familiar about all of this.
Dolf redirected his gaze to the ground, and then it struck him: dikes, grass, and impossibly flat land -- they were in a polder! And being in a polder could mean only one thing...
He was home.
Had they finally managed to bring him back? But then why wasn't he in Dr. Simiak's laboratory? Why here, in what looked like it had to be some place like the Haarlemmermeer or the Noordoostpolder?
And that's about when he saw the clog.
[[ for she who is here with him. ]]
Something was very familiar about all of this.
Dolf redirected his gaze to the ground, and then it struck him: dikes, grass, and impossibly flat land -- they were in a polder! And being in a polder could mean only one thing...
He was home.
Had they finally managed to bring him back? But then why wasn't he in Dr. Simiak's laboratory? Why here, in what looked like it had to be some place like the Haarlemmermeer or the Noordoostpolder?
And that's about when he saw the clog.
[[ for she who is here with him. ]]