Being a record of certain phenomena found in the environs of the Lost Quarter.

The Landlord

He set off for the Quarter in March, as he did every year. An unsettled time, the weather always unpredictable and the ways into the Quarter, which were always drifting, were even harder to trace. It was important that he look in upon his lands each spring to ensure all was in order for the growing season to come, at least that was what he told himself and those he visited. Some years spring had not arrived by the time he did and he was forced to endure a sullen and frigid tour. 

It had been decades since he lived within the Quarter, having fled those environs at the first opportunity. A number of listless years followed wherein he wandered about attempting to find his place in the wider world. That proved difficult, for he spent most of his time half-heartedly indulging in various passion projects, all of which came to nothing. There was his writing, of course, which he quickly gave up once it went from ignored to dismissed. Also, his travel, which he talked about constantly. He was always going to be establishing some new venture in some distant place, only to quietly leave after a few months when he could secure no interest from the locals. 

After a number of years the birthright, which had always been his even as he rejected it out of hand, came to him. His possessions, though not substantial, were more than enough to support him. He was not so foolish as to believe he could return and make of himself a landholder, so he endeavoured to let it out to some of his former neighbours. A satisfactory agreement was reached, but he was left unsatisfied by it and determined that he should tour his lands each spring, though he was told this was strictly unnecessary and in fact something of a burden. The renters and the lawyers and accountants could manage the arrangements perfectly fine without him.  

He ignored them. It felt important that he maintain a connection with the Quarter if he was to have possessions there. And he knew from experience that the longer he stayed away the more difficult it came to find his way back.  

The weather was pleasant when he left, but as he came nearer to the amorphous border of the Quarter it turned, as it often did. Sleet came down heavily, stinging his cheeks and soaking him right through. The rolling hills, which had been brown and bare were soon white with snow. All the roads were obscured, the way forward unclear. He was unconcerned, for past experience had taught him that it was only when he was certain he was utterly lost that he discovered he had somehow entered the environs of the Quarter.  

This time proved no different. By afternoon the skies were clearing and he could see a vast horizon unfolding ahead of him. White lined with darkness where the roads crisscrossed and speckled with other colours where houses stood. Somewhere in that vastness were his holdings. He set off toward them with a lightness in his step.