Beyond the horizon, by Peter Morford

 From the air the land would have looked like a target. The bullseye was a circular lake, ringed by the valley and in turn surrounded by the tropical forest. Beyond: the mountains.

The village straggled round the water; a collection of, perhaps, a hundred round tents made of saplings and covered with layers of leaves

It is high noon. In the Chief’s tent the man on the bed was saying, “I’m an old man now, soon I will hand over my spear to you, my sons. Your duty is to keep the dead Elders’ traditions. Nobody will stray from our world. We live in this paradise. The lake gives us fish. The earth and the forest give us meat and fruit. We are happy and undisturbed. In the mountains are devils and evil spirits. Beyond is the end of the world- nothing. If you went there you will become nothing.”

The young man has heard the words many times. He closed his eyes, telling himself that the wisdom of countless ancients is based on ignorance. Where is the end of the world? In his dreams he wants to go there for himself. He has a plan.

Early next morning he crept out of his tent without waking his parents and siblings. The moon has gone. It was very dark but his hunter’s eyes saw well enough by the light of the stars. With his bow, arrows, stone knife and some food he trotted towards the faint glimmer of the rising sun. He reached the river, walked along its wandering shore, Was he being followed? Adam looked back. If he were caught now he would be punished for defying the ancients. Being the chief’s grandson would not protect him from the anger of the gods.

 He walked until the sun was overhead. After cooling himself in the river he ate some of his food and slept through the hottest part of the day. When he woke it was cooler.

He climbed hills high above the river. He had not reached the end of the world yet. As far as he could see were more hills and forests. Dare he enter them? The river was wider and deeper now. In places it ran in deep gullies far below his feet.

Days passed. 

From, the top of another hill he caught sight of a huge lake, glimmering blue. There was nothing beyond it. So that must be the end of the world. He descended the slope and found himself looking down on a beach far below him. He was fascinated. The water was alive, white foamed. Their lake was nothing like that. Then he saw something on the water.

 A huge canoe moving faster than he had ever seen. It was white. It growled. It made smoke. Tiny things moved on it. As it came nearer he saw they were men in strange clothes. Many, many people. What were they?

He hid from their sight and shivered in the heat.

The missing vicar and the lady nobody saw, by Peter Shilston

 The people of the village hardly ever attended services at the church, so when the vicar went missing, it was a long time before anyone noticed; and then everyone assumed he had simply gone away for a while, as he had often done in the past. 

   In point of fact, he had died, and his posthumous punishment was this: he was condemned to conduct midnight services to which no-one would ever come, and preach an identical sermon to rows of empty pews. The villagers sometimes heard strange nocturnal sounds issuing from their church, but none of them bothered to investigate.

   Nearby in the same village there lived a strange lady, who never appeared in public. Some people wondered whether anyone lived in her house at all; but in fact she was a hopeless insomniac: she always felt exhausted and was perpetually yawning, which made her so ashamed that she never ventured out. She would lie awake all night, despairing.

  But one night she exclaimed out loud, "Oh, I would do anything for a good night's sleep!", and at that moment she was permitted to hear the faint sounds of the vicar's midnight service, and something induced her to rise from her comfortless bed and totter round to the church. She sank into a pew just as the vicar started his sermon, and within a few seconds she was fast asleep. The vicar was pardoned the rest of his penance.