Touchstone 1 - Stray

the moment, and trying to reserve my scissors for things I can’t figure out any other way to cut. Perhaps I’ll make another attempt at whacking a stone knife out of the rocks.
    Wednesday, November 28
    Big Wet
    There definitely is an ocean or a lake ahead. I keep seeing the light reflecting from the water, though it’s still too far ahead for more. Going to push hard this afternoon, to see how far I can get.
    Nature abhors a square
    At least, I can’t think of any naturally forming squares, except for the occasional odd-shaped rock.
    There’s a big patch of water ahead. Ocean or a lake, not sure yet. The river’s still fresh, without any hint of salt. And to the right, far along the shore, are white, square things. Buildings.
    No sign of smoke or power lines or roads or anything but a few whitish squares among the greenery. But this changes so much. Someone made those squares, and although they could be hostile or gecko-men or whatever, it means I’m not the only intelligent person on the planet.
    I can barely sit here writing this. I want to run all the way there, I want to scream for help, I want to see a plane fly over, I want it all at once.
    I think I MIGHT get there by tomorrow afternoon. I’m definitely going to push as hard as I can, the rest of today and tomorrow.
    Thursday, November 29
    Water Walk
    I’m nearly at the buildings, and should reach them in plenty of time before sunset, though I’ve yet to decide whether that’s a good idea or not.
    The lake is enormous. I seem to be walking along an outflung arm of it, and can see a huge expanse beyond the hills directly across from me, so large that I can’t see the far shore. It’s very cool and still, clear like green tea, and the banks all pebbly. There’s these birds which keep flying low across the water in pairs, making the most amazing noises, drawn-out wails. I’m glad I didn’t hear that for the first time in the middle of the night.
    There are dozens of buildings. And they’re old. And obviously empty, with plants growing in all the wrong places. I’m following the shoreline along a road made of white stones which have been set neatly in the ground. It’s broken apart in places, where tree roots have lifted the stones, but otherwise it’s survived well. There’s even what I think must be mile-posts every so often, though whatever is chipped into them is so old and worn I can’t tell if it’s any kind of script I would recognise.
    The buildings are white and blocky, with arched doorways. Most are only one or two stories, with flat roofs, and make me think of Greece, of those pictures of seaside towns. They stretch over the hill, and I think they must continue along the ‘main’ shore of the lake.
    My feet aren’t happy with me for walking so hard all day, but I’m going to press on while it’s still light. Just to check what’s in the buildings, and to see if there’s more over the hill. There might be some with people in them. There might be another, occupied settlement.
    Dire lack of friendly aliens
    No-one’s been here for a long time. There’s plenty of animal life, though. Ten thousand birds, all singing in the evening. Little pigs which shoot out of the bushes and go racing off, shrieking as if I’d hit them. Chittering squirrelly types jumping from wall to wall. I even saw a cat, a slinky grey one, no different from home. All these different animals, seething through a town overgrown and deserted and empty.
    It wasn’t a modern town, back when people lived in it. There’s no remains of cars or powerlines or anything like that. But it’s not caveman primitive either. I can’t figure out how the buildings were made, since the walls and roofs all seem to be one single piece of white stone. Like someone took a big block of plaster of Paris and carved out the parts they didn’t need to make rooms and doors and windows, and then added pretty decorations around the edges. It’s held up really well: worn but solid.
    Of the doors and shutters and furniture, most has left barely a trace, making it clear the people have been gone more than a few years. There’s little remaining in the couple of houses I’ve dared to look into, though there’s plenty of guck and muck. No visible bones of people, fortunately – this doesn’t seem to be like Pompeii.
    It’s getting dark around 9.30pm (Sydney daylight savings time) and it’s too gloomy right now to explore more. I’m going to sleep on the roof of the house