They proceeded along the silted riverbank, puffing clouds of laboured breath and watching the winter sky above unleash the first tentative snowfall of the season.
Julian managed to conjure a faint, sanguine smile. If it wasn’t for the jarring agony in his leg, this would be quite a pleasant hike. It was peaceful, almost silent except for the gentle, muted hiss of the river, the swish and thump of the backpack against Rose’s shoulder with each staggered step, and something else . . . the soft, reassuring whisper of a breeze through the naked branches of elms and cedars along the riverbank; a whisper that sounded almost human . . . almost like words.
THE END
Author’s Note
Inspiration for October Skies, came from an obscure little historical event known as the ‘Donner Incident’. The ‘Donner Party’ were a group of settlers who set out across the American Midwest a little too late in the year and got caught out by early snows in the Sierra Nevadas - much like the characters in this book. That was the seed of inspiration for this book. Originally, I had planned to dramatise the story of these real people, but imagination and invention quickly got in the way and I soon realised that for me it would be a lot more fun to depart from writing an account of this bit of history and instead create my own cast of characters and tell a very different story.
Research as usual, required a lot of gophering for details, for which I must thank Google and Google Maps. But also, much of the feel for the characters of the time, and the tiny details of life I absorbed from several books; the one closest to my heart being Centennial by James A. Michener.
For those readers who might be intrigued by the origin of the Mormon faith, believe it or not, Joseph Smith’s tale really hasn’t been exaggerated for dramatic purposes; that really is the story he told to anyone who’d listen to him. Perhaps his story of Divine inspiration might have sounded somewhat more convincing if it had been separated from the present by 1500 or 2000 years and acquired some dubious credibility coming from biblical times. Instead, it’s a faith that popped out of his mouth and into existence in the 1830s; a mixed bag of the current fads doing the rounds in New England at the time (Egyptology, archaeology, treasure hunting, codes and interesting mythologies).
The birth of Joseph Smith’s new faith reminded me very much of that scene in Monty Python’s Life of Brian where Brian, on the run from the Romans, disguises himself as a prophet on their version of Speaker’s Corner. If you’ve seen the film, you’ll know the scene I mean. It’s that bit where the Romans have marched past searching for Brian and now he sees that he’s probably safe, his impersonation of a prophet uttering bland and meaningless prophecies to the bored audience in the market square, slowly grinds to a mumbling halt. Only . . . he’s left a sentence, hanging . . . unfinished, and the bored crowd, out of idle curiosity, nag him to finish his last inane prophecy. But Brian is more interested in making a smart getaway, and he scampers off, only to be pursued by a growing crowd of followers driven mad with curiosity . . . and thus a new prophet is born.
It sounds like I have an axe to grind with regard to faith. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But more specifically, I do have something against organised faith. I could write another five thousand words as to why I believe them to be the curse mankind should have moved on from, to have outgrown by now. But I’ll do that another day. If I have time for anyone though, perhaps it’s for those people who have a quiet, personal belief in something beyond this world; something that doesn’t have a prescribed way to behave, or a prescribed subset of people to victimise or label as heretics. Like Ben, I consider myself an atheist. But, you know what? I have to admit there have been several times in my life that I’ve been so scared, so completely terrified, that I’ve actually muttered a prayer. So . . . perhaps there is a tiny part of me that hopes there’s more than we can see or measure or understand.
Alex Scarrow, October Skies
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