It was a long march to the ancient city of Amesbury, which had long since stopped being a dwelling of humans. The scars the bombs had left, albeit overgrown by thorny vegetation with colorful flowers, were still visible. Marcus knew better to stop and smell the flowers though. To survive in this now hostile world, many of them have learned to attract unwitting prey with pretty colors and sweet smells, only to emit toxic fumes if one were to make the mistake of touching them. Marcus had read of beautiful gardens in the beforetimes, where people would walk in the sun, surrounded by countless colorful flowers, whose sweet smells served to make people happy instead of killing them.

However the plant life was not the only danger to be found in these parts. Hidden deep within the crevices of the forsaken city lived countless animals and also quite a few savages and raiders, who made a living of attacking whoever would be stupid enough to cross their path. At least that’s what he was told time and again when he asked what was out there, beyond the perimeter of the settlement.

As the evening drew near, dark clouds pulled overhead, once again heralding one of the violent thunderstorms Marcus had grown up with. He needed shelter, and quickly, hence, when the rain set in, he hurried into one of the derelict underground shelters his ancestors had once upon a time used for transportation.

While the wind beyond the hole in the ground howled and tore at the remaining structures, that had not yet fallen victim to the never ending nagging of time, Marcus settled down in a somewhat safe seeming corner of what was once a metro station and huddled into the shadows to protect himself from the coming cold.

Like so many times before, as he fell into a light slumber, dreams of a better world came to haunt him, a world where this city once was a hub of life instead of a long since forgotten graveyard. A world, where the Earth was still teeming with people, going about their daily business without having to worry about some bastard critter sneaking in and feasting on our children in their sleep. The world he had read about in the books, that was so much better than the world he was now forced to live in. The world his ancestors so foolishly destroyed in their never-ending pursuit of power over their peers. In their fight over the limited resources.

As the night progressed, Marcus startled from his sleep more than once, his rifle ready to defend himself against whatever was moving, but he could not make out any sort of threat in the darkness. He did bring a set to start some fire, but in his flight from the raging weather, he had forgotten to collect the required wood and now it was far too dark to even start.

Fortunately for him he had chosen to go during the summer months, otherwise he might well have found death in the cold and damp barrenness of the metro station. When the Earth slowly turned towards the sun again, he woke from his slumber, stiff and cold. The first noise to break the all-encompassing silence of this hall of death was a loud and powerful sneeze, which surely was heard all the way to the next metro station, echoing off the walls. Whatever else was living within these catacombs of the old days, it now most certainly knew that Marcus was there. This became even more evident by the shuffling noises that erupted just about momentarily in response to his sneeze.

Marcus wasted no time to pack up his belongings and run out into the crisp morning air, rife with the sweet scents of the toxic plants that had taken over the cityscape, slowly breaking down what once had been mighty buildings made from concrete and glass.

A few more centuries and a wanderer wouldn’t ever know there was a city in these parts to begin with.

Walking with the sun filtering through the cloudy sky, Marcus picked up a swift pace, only stopping to hide from raider parties crossing his path. Once or twice he had to employ his rifle to defend himself, grievously wounding one and leaving the rest of the pack to deal with the cleanup.

By the time he arrived at the once proud monument of Stonehenge, of which only three Megaliths remained standing, forming an overgrown gate. The remaining stones had long since fallen over and countless plants had covered them from top to bottom. The compound itself was surrounded by a field of wild grain, its stalks swaying in the breeze drifting up from the far ocean side, but the interior itself seemed surprisingly well kept and cleaned up, as if someone or something was still taking care of the place.

Marcus carefully stepped through the grain fields, mindful of his every step to not accidentally step on one of the many predators that might be hiding within.

Just as he approached the gate, a voice echoed seemingly from nowhere, calling “Watch out!”, causing Marcus to take a leap to the side just as a wolf jumped right to where his prey had stood only moments before. Marcus hurriedly fumbled the rifle off his back, almost dropping it as the animal shook the dirt it had landed in from its snout and turning to face Marcus again.

With shaking hands Marcus raised the rifle, when, all of a sudden, a deafening high pitch sound tore through the air, making the wolf perk up and flee in terror.

Surprised, confused and relieved, Marcus slowly lowered the rifle, when, all of a sudden, a seemingly human voice asked, “That was a close one,” startling Marcus again.
“Put that stupid thing down before you end up hurting yourself,” the voice coming from nowhere said, apparently mildly amused. Just then, the earth shook lightly and the gate Marcus had seen earlier opened a little, snapping the vines and tendrils that had closed it shut.
“Don’t just stand there. Come in. It’s been ages since I had visitors,” the voice prattled on, confusing Marcus more and more. Something inside of him told him to book it, to run as far as he can, but, at the same time, he was also intrigued. Where did this voice come from? Why did it save him from the claws of the predator Marcus had failed to notice? And how did it move those huge stones? So many questions and all the answers he was going to find were beyond that gate, beyond the barrier, on the meadow that somehow seemed to exist outside of the world Marcus knew.
“You do know that those critters are going to come back in force if you keep standing there, right?” the voice kindly reminded him.
Of course Marcus considered this whole setup to be a trap of some sort, but if it was, it was unlike anything his father had told him about. If anything, it was more along the lines of the siren’s song he had read about, where women, half man, half fish, tried to lure people into a watery grave.

Not only did he make it to the ancient site, the gateway to the other world, he also actually met someone...or something capable of speaking.
‘Maybe’, he thought, ‘God isn’t as dead as I thought him to be.’

He faced the gate the voice seemingly had opened, summoned all his courage and walked towards it, his steps slow and heavy, as the forces within him still fought for dominance over his actions.
As he stood before the large archway just barely wide enough for him to pass through, he finally found his voice again and asked, “Who...who are you? Are you...God?”
“Me? God? Pshaw, no way. Now come on in already.”
“Then...if you are not God...then who are you?” Marcus asked, but got no response. The voice was gone and the only noise aside from his own breathing was the rustling of the wind as it caressed the blades of grain. And somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
Whoever or whatever that voice was, it was right about one thing. Marcus would die if he kept standing here. If not from the wolves, then from the elements. His only two options were to press on and face the consequences or to turn around and run. But ‘standing here’ indefinitely was going to get him killed sooner or later.

He looked back towards the horizon, where the ruins had long since disappeared and sighed, murmuring, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” and stepped through the gate. He half expected the gate to shut right after he walked through, but nothing the likes happened. The gate continued to stand there, unmoving and still, as if it had always been that way.
As he looked over the sizable meadow, which seemed like time itself had stood still, he recalled a few words of one of the stranger books he had come across during his studies.

And here I stand, with all my lore. Poor fool, no wiser than before.