It was a brisk night, unusually calm and pleasant. Not too humid, not too dry. The peace would have kept until morning had a man not come charging into town, his face ragged and his hair wild and as white as snow. Earlier that day it had been brown.
"I seen it! I seen it!"
He fell on his knees, clawing at his cheeks with both hands. He had the look of a man who had seen his own future. Shutters were pulled open, folks who had work in the morning woken up prematurely. Some mocked him before slamming their windows closed, and others knowing what the fool had seen would duck away in fear, perhaps to make sure their doors were bolted and their children still slept safely. Islanders sometimes lived near volcanos. Those near the coast by hurricanes. Around here there was something else. Be it cheap real estate or family tradition, there were always those who walked the razors edge. Today someone had slipped. If one were intrepid enough to question the poor man, he would be all too eager to answer. He had everything to gain and nothing to lose, after all. He was now sobbing.
"The cave. A mile beyond where the trail ends, straight ahead. It saw me too..."
An old hunting trail, rarely used these days. It was overgrown with vegetation but could still be followed. It ended after seven miles. One more to go after that. One more mile, whereupon one would reach a cave. Not some gaping dragon's lair. Just a small mossy hole large enough for a man to sneak through on his hands and knees. A secret place. But the adventurer that had come all that way may surely know it for what it was, how it had a tendency to take away the ones you loved. The crazed man would have told them. He had a wife, he had a daughter. He was desperate. The hole was, not so much in the true sense of the word, a gateway between realities. A snaking little grotto that completely removed you from the land of Sunday mornings, family hugs, bustling markets, and boring neighbors. To venture inside was to abandon the world wherein lay all that was known, and enter the realm of the lost. If one were to go inside there would be little to see but a complete and silent blackness. Every inch of the tunnel would feel as if it had been licked by a dog. Damp and musky. It was not tight but long. Fifty yards of winding and crawling before there became room enough to stand.
"I seen it! I seen it!"
He fell on his knees, clawing at his cheeks with both hands. He had the look of a man who had seen his own future. Shutters were pulled open, folks who had work in the morning woken up prematurely. Some mocked him before slamming their windows closed, and others knowing what the fool had seen would duck away in fear, perhaps to make sure their doors were bolted and their children still slept safely. Islanders sometimes lived near volcanos. Those near the coast by hurricanes. Around here there was something else. Be it cheap real estate or family tradition, there were always those who walked the razors edge. Today someone had slipped. If one were intrepid enough to question the poor man, he would be all too eager to answer. He had everything to gain and nothing to lose, after all. He was now sobbing.
"The cave. A mile beyond where the trail ends, straight ahead. It saw me too..."
An old hunting trail, rarely used these days. It was overgrown with vegetation but could still be followed. It ended after seven miles. One more to go after that. One more mile, whereupon one would reach a cave. Not some gaping dragon's lair. Just a small mossy hole large enough for a man to sneak through on his hands and knees. A secret place. But the adventurer that had come all that way may surely know it for what it was, how it had a tendency to take away the ones you loved. The crazed man would have told them. He had a wife, he had a daughter. He was desperate. The hole was, not so much in the true sense of the word, a gateway between realities. A snaking little grotto that completely removed you from the land of Sunday mornings, family hugs, bustling markets, and boring neighbors. To venture inside was to abandon the world wherein lay all that was known, and enter the realm of the lost. If one were to go inside there would be little to see but a complete and silent blackness. Every inch of the tunnel would feel as if it had been licked by a dog. Damp and musky. It was not tight but long. Fifty yards of winding and crawling before there became room enough to stand.
