A crimson muddy ravine is marked on both sides by
massive cliffs towering over the precession below. A figure wrapped
in white muslin and rubbed with ash  is propped up on a stone altar. Around the figure
tribesman and women dance hard, their eyes wild, their curled fingers wicked.
The figure is not touched by the dancers almost as if he is diseased. I realize
at this point that that is exactly what is going on. A plague has swept through this
tribe and killed many. They burn the bodies on these altars to appease the gods
and to beg mercy. The dripping fat and flesh pools in the mud below, making a small trickle of filth that led to near by water. Down river from this tribe is a whole different world. Here instead of being dark
skinned the people are very pale. All of their houses are remains from shipwrecks
put up into trees and connected by rope bridges, hammocks and twisting vines. Below the fields are
covered with water. Below the surface was their crops. Melons, lettuces, berries, peppers all kinds of
earth like flora but every species glowed softly with a pulsing beat. The pale tribe was very careful walking through the lines while harvesting. One rough handling could ruin the whole crop. A sense of fear was here all of the people smelled strongly of it. I could still hear the drum beat of the sick tribe. All work stopped and slowly everyone turned to look at me. Just then a loud crackling sound shot through the sky. A bolt of lightening struck close. Gasps could be heard all around. I looked quickly at my feet in the fields of water and didn't see the glow. The fields were black. The pale faces around me sunk in, gaunt and hungry. Their mouths worked but I could not hear them. My vision went blurry then black, fading away from their struggle.