Chapter 1 – The Whistle

Humans are subject to the tyranny of time. At a single moment, a person’s life changes, takes a different direction than that heretofore. Humans try to track such instances, narrow them to a specific date, time of day, hour and minute, to attempt to exert some feeble control over what is uncontrollable. Other instances cannot be dated, are not subject to clocks and calendars. They just happen, vaguely but definitively.

At such a moment, Daniel Little was walking along the road returning home from the port, where he had journeyed earlier that day to inquire about a shipment of furniture he had been expecting. 

Daniel Little was walking alone this day on the road from the port, approaching a bridge crossing a tidal inlet, feeling full and satisfied, his thoughts wandering about his favorite themes—the wonderful plenty of the land; the rich fodder, marsh hay, bending in the breeze; the cool, moist air promising much for the farm community; God’s benevolence revealed in nature—when a sudden noise interrupted his solitude. A whistle …