Any given culture is constantly generating stories. Some die out and some survive into near immortality. Some, like "The Epic of Gilgamesh" only survive in a dusty script in some buried library; patiently awaiting the day that they will be discovered whole and entire. Some are passed down word of mouth changing and growing like a living thing.
One of the latter is the story of Mt. Mazama. This respectable Cascade mountain blew its top thousands of year ago and the locals still tell of how their ancestors had to dive into the lake seventy miles away to escape the heat. The land was devastated for miles around the thousands of years later the lake still bubbles with remembered heat.
Now the old stories are being collected, pulled for the ether of the spoken word, and written down. Maybe some day an adventurer will find the story of the formation of Crater Lake tucked into some dusty knoll and once again remember.
One of the latter is the story of Mt. Mazama. This respectable Cascade mountain blew its top thousands of year ago and the locals still tell of how their ancestors had to dive into the lake seventy miles away to escape the heat. The land was devastated for miles around the thousands of years later the lake still bubbles with remembered heat.
Now the old stories are being collected, pulled for the ether of the spoken word, and written down. Maybe some day an adventurer will find the story of the formation of Crater Lake tucked into some dusty knoll and once again remember.
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