Heofon
Thunder spewing in all directions, Zeus was roaring, raging from Olympus above. It would flash, sporadically lighting up the otherwise dark plain. Thick tufts of grass, bushes, no trees. Wide open plains. The air smelled burnt, cackles sizzling through it. Three flashes of lightning, one after the other, rapid succession lit up a series of footsteps. Impossibly large, improbable. Frightening. They made the grass seem the size of insects, and the bushels the height of grass, they trampled everything they left their mark in.
Following the footsteps, a question mark in your head as to what kind of animal, you would come upon an orchard. A turtle guarding it vigorously, in pain, writhing, screaming, maw opening, snappers shivering uncontrollably. An arrow lying by the side. You would be able to tell that the arrow had injured it, you would know, intuitively, but no blood on the arrow. No wound on the turtle. Some sort of magic? Had the magician left His card?
A smell would draw you deeper inside, a beautiful, luscious, tantalizing scent. Walking past the ancient walls, marbled with stone and lathered with white pearls, you enter. Immediately, a heady feeling rushes through your head, too much oxygen? The smell is overpowering, you feel as if you are on top of the world. Nothing can stop you in this moment. Nothing ever will. The ground feels as if you were standing upon clouds, lightless, you feel lightless, skies blue and clear all the way through, mountains in the distance, you are on a mountain. You feel the weightlessness of the world, you feel your insignificance in front of the looming monoliths, and you are freed. Freed from pain, from misery, like you never really knew what those were. A bee starts buzzing in your ear, whispering sweet words like honey.
You walk onwards, past houses made of stone and marble, white, gleaming, castles, smells of chocolate and petunias, your favorite two scents. The buzzing gets louder, the honey starting to irritate a little.
You walk past a fountain, sparkling, glistening, gleaming, cool droplets spraying your face, refreshing. The buzzing turns into whispers.
You walk past a pond, serene, peaceful, untouched, unmoving, you see your reflection in it. You are wearing a robe, nothing else, you are light, smooth, hairless, no wrinkles on your skin. Like a newborn baby come home at last. The whispers hiss at you, you start to feel angry. You shiver.
Rows and rows of foodstuffs planted, fresh, the scents having a ball in the air, playing along to a song only they could hear, a song they were showing your nostrils. Corn, and rice, barley, whey, jalapenos, lemons, trees, apple, bananas, orange. The smells were overpowering, beautiful. The hissing whispers start to scratch the inside of your head. You hold it, tight. Hurting.
Walk into a field, a house at the center. Sheep moving the grass, cows nibbling. The house too, is exactly as you imagined it. Cool fresh air floating lazily above the ground. This is what you want to retire to.
The hisses start to screech.
You see the footsteps you were tracking. You had almost forgotten about them.
You walk towards them. You are inside one. You are in a courtyard, more beautiful than anything you have seen today. There is so much to see, and yet you see it from the corner of your eyes. A beautiful sturdy tree, the scent, the first of its kind. Bearing apples, shining, clean. The hisses spur you on. The hisses fade. You imagine what it would be like to taste one of them.
You make your choice.
You never see that place again.
heofon noun
heaven