Above the forest canopy stands a tower. Constructed of wooden beams layed across each other in squares and crosses it pushes through the layers of leaves. On the top of the tower is a viewing platform. Built by a native tribe who wanted to know what lay beyond the cover of the trees, it is their only way of seeing the outside world. Surviving on scraps of sunlight that filtered through the leaves the tribe now sees the blue sky dotted with clouds. They see vast rainbow feathered birds soaring through the air. To the west colossal forests with trees in the distance taller than the tower, accompanied by deep howls and booming roars. To the east are massive oceans were mammoth whales leap from the water while sea serpents dive beneath the waves. To the north lie immense mountain ranges shrouded in snow storms and encircled by flying beasts with leathery hides. And to the south are the cities with their own towers and bright lights.
Yet what the tribe enjoys the most is looking up towards the heavens and watching the stars and the moon illuminate the night sky.
Once a magnificent shade of crimson, the tower has been weathered, its colour faded. Sand storms have swallowed up the rest of the village and with dust storms on the horizon the tower will soon fracture, its fragments to be scattered amongst the desert sands.
I do not know how long I have been here. Assigned to the watch tower long ago, they always said when my time was up they would call me. Instructed to never come down unless the call came. So I have waited but the call has never come.
To the south is the village and to the north is the waste land which I watch over, ready to warn the village if anything ever comes over. Nothing has ever come across the wasteland and all the while I have seen the village evolve and grow.
Yet until the call comes I cannot leave my post and I shall remain here until the order to disembark comes or my strength gives out. Surely it must be the latter.