All stories are true. Whether they actually happened or not is something else. (Unknown)
Me ‘n Fred spent the next couple a weeks travelin’ down a section of the mountains called The Indian Trail, datin’ from back when the early Indians trod this here part of the land. Durin’ that time, we stopped by some of the campsites we came on that the gypsies and the leftover Indians, mostly all mixed up by now with other folks, had made. We was viewed with pretty much suspicion by most of ’em, but some of ’em took to Fred, and if I kept my trap shut, finally ended up at least toleratin’ me. They seemed to like it that I was interested in their stories of a night while we sat around the campfires.
And let me tell you, whoo-doggies, did they have some stories to tell. About what has been. About what will be. Some of it downright fantastical and brilliant. Some of it so frightenin’ it would turn your hair white.
I spent the next six months just a’wanderin’ this way, stoppin’ when I felt like it — and sometimes when Fred seemed to feel like it. I sometimes got the notion he was the one leadin’ or directin’ me, kinda showin’ me where to stop and all.
Durin’ that six months, I didn’t write nothin’ in these here pages like I told you I would. Sorry about that. I was mostly a’tryin’ to integrate so to speak what I was hearin’ and learnin’. Thinkin’ about how much was truth and how much was make-believe. I can tell you, the folks that told me these here stories that I’m gonna tell you believed ’em and swore by ’em. They told me about fantastical machines they somehow knew about that would control the world some day. Horrible diseases that would sweep over the earth. Unspeakable cruelty. And unbelievable brillance and creativity. And all mixed up amongst these here stories was the personal ones, the ones full of kindness and some full of downright meanness.
I mean to tell you some of those stories now that Fred and me is a’restin’ awhile. I never know when she’s a’gonna feel the urge to take off on the road again, but for right now, she seems content just to be quiet and peaceful-like in this little corner of the land where we find ourselves.
So I’ll start. I won’t tell ’em — the stories, I mean — to you in any particular order, just as they come to mind. I hope you get somethin’ out of ’em, mebbe that they make you think about things more, like they did me. Or mebbe that they give you some hope. Or direction, if you’re a’feelin’ kinda lost-like. They seemed to come along to me just when I needed that kinda story, so mebbe they will be like that to you as well.
Mostly I tell ’em to you in the hope they’ll make you wonder more. And that you’ll feel less alone.