A Journey of Ignorance 

The enigma of a once silent sea reflected crimson as dawn creeped into a Scottish sky. Miles away, a young lemming awoke, surrounded by hundreds of fellow mouse-like creatures. The hilltop on which they had slept was bustling with activity as the lemmings prepared their belongings for the long journey ahead of them. It was an amazing sight to the young lemming. Never had he seen such organized chaos as this morning when a brisk breeze swept the remnants of slumber from his tiny body. He was by far the youngest of the lemmings to hear the call...to feel the inevitable urge to migrate.

The young lemming began to prepare himself, like the others did, for the journey. He bathed in the morning dew and drank deeply from a small pool of water around which several other lemmings had gathered. An image was slowly unveiled as he peered into the water. It was the image of a lemming, much like himself, who had vanished into a Scottish dawn three seasons ago. The young lemming remained at the water for a long while, seemingly oblivious to the other lemmings as they rushed about him.

"Father?" the young lemming spoke as he reached a paw to the image. With this, a gentle shock wave traversed the pool and the image seemed to respond with a telepathic subtlety as it slowly dissolved.

The line of lemmings stretched for several hundred yards as they marched behind their dictator with a silent determination unmatched by any army. The animals they passed were awed at the precise beauty of their march. No one questioned them as to what they were marching for until the second day of the migration. The lemmings had unpacked and laid their things out to sleep when a herd of sheep passed by to ask where they were marching to at such a pace. Almost in unison, the lemmings cried out, "We have been called by our leader to march! It is our way." And the sheep nodded their heads in agreement, not wondering why such a silly looking group of animals would be so intent on marching so far for so long for such a reason. The sheep then dispersed into the countryside as the lemmings prepared for a much needed slumber.

The next morning, the young lemming awoke before the others and, after packing his things, walked quietly to where the sheep had stood the night before when a somber moon cast the beauty of wisdom upon them. He was proud that such animals had come to them and had approved of their journey. All of a sudden, a loud cry shattered the crystal air and the camp burst into commotion with the packing of bags and the taking of baths. The startled young lemming made his way back to the center of the camp and prepared to take his place in the same inanimate procession as he had the day before. The same march his father had walked those three seasons ago.

The day was warm and the trees were dancing with a slight breeze as the lemmings once again marched quickly through the tall grasses. It was only several hours into the day's voyage when they came upon a pack of wild dogs. The lemmings scattered and took cover as the dogs calmly approached. The young lemming trembled in a patch of weeds as the head of the pack grazed him with a ravenous claw in passing. The lemming made a squeak as he recoiled from his haphazard assailant. The dog saw him shaking violently in the grass and chuckled to himself. "Why are you so afraid of me, lemming?" the dog asked. The lemming could not answer, for fear clogged his throat, but the dog did not wait for an answer. He saw the pathetic migration each year and knew they were off to find some better place. "Lemming, do you know where you are headed?" the dog asked in a mocking tone.

"No, sir." replied the lemming, only now able to squeeze words from his throat.

"Well, young lemming, I would recommend that you find out before you keep following your leader. I always inform my pack as to my intentions as I lead them. That way, each dog can decide for himself whether he wants to do as I instruct or not. What you are doing is not wise. This paradise you seek may be long sunken. But you will do what you will. Farewell."

The dogs passed through the terrified lemmings and left them all to do as they would. As soon as the dogs were out of sight, a cry similar to the one the young lemming had heard that morning impaled the silence and the lemmings re-assembled their line to continue the march. The rest of the day remained rather uneventful as they passed from field to field until the sun began to set.

The lemmings again made camp and laid down to rest before the final day of their own little exodus. Just as the camp began to settle, the veil of night was torn with a hellish screech unmatched by the most wicked of Luciferian ghouls. The young lemming sat up immediately and scurried to a nearby rock. Just then, two giant wings raced from the sky and landed some siren upon the very rock behind which hid the young lemming. The eagle screeched again. All movement halted. The camp again returned to silence, but now it was not so tranquil. The eagle began to speak to the lemmings. He spoke surely and with a dignity the young lemming could never fathom. He spoke of a young lemming he had met three seasons ago who led lemmings much like the ones to whom he spoke. He mentioned how that young lemming and his followers believed so much that their ancestors had been right in making the migration which they then made, that the young lemming had led his fellows directly over a cliff and into the freezing ocean water.

The next morning, the tired but unshaken lemmings packed their belongings for this final day's journey. A once silent sea reflected crimson in the eye of the eagle as he watched the lemmings line themselves behind their leader and, without question of the night's event, march into their icy reverie.