hiking

Standard disclaimer, this work is rated pg on the sexual scale, but does deal with some deep themes. Protect yourself, and please keep my name attached to this.

It had been such a long time since Dad and I went for a hike, just getting some guy time in. It wasn't that we didn't want to, but what with the way things went it would either end up raining or something would come up unexpectedly almost every time for the past few months. We went back to one of our favorite trails, about a 15 minute drive out of the city.
When we got to the trail head we put on our packs, checked our water and began to hike. We had a ten mile hike ahead of us, but that was not that much compared to what we had already done. We had already mapped out the trip, it was going to take us up on a ridge so high that you could see for miles around. The ridge wasn't the goal, in fact it seems we had lost track of a goal. When we had started hiking together in my freshman year of high school he had been on a major workout plan, and hiking made sense as a good way to work out and have some company. Personally I had never needed a workout plan, but Dad was aware that he was getting older, and he wanted to make sure he never became a burden on anyone. I respect that, in fact I admire it because I could think of countless friends I had met who didn't have that same code of honor.
Dad started in high spirits, as we walked he pointed out various points of interest, from rocks to interesting trees, even live animal tracks that had been made mere moments before we showed up.
Then, right after our first water break the conversation took a more serious tone:
Dad: "You know kid, sometimes being out here really makes me feel like I can take on the world."
Me:"I know what you mean."
Dad: "Out here things are simple. We hike, we stay hydrated and safe and with that and a little bit of luck in regards to the weather we come out alright."
Me: "Are you saying that things elsewhere are less simple?"
Dad's eyes seem to tell it all. He gives me a look that indicates there is something more to what he was thinking than he was saying.
Dad: "What do you think? Do you find life simple?
Me: "Well no, I probably wouldn't use the word simple."
Dad: "Exactly my point."
I couldn't help but wonder what was bothering him, but I had no doubt that he would unfold it in time. We walked for sometime in silence.
Dad again started the conversation.
Dad: "I think it all goes back to the philosophy of Don Quete. At some point you find yourself at a point of frustration that you want to deny all of reality, put yourself into a world that makes sense to you. The alternative is hardly more sane however, and that would be to live with the pain, know the reality of it and somehow keep on fighting to stay alive."
Me: "Woah, wait a minute, what does any of this have to do with staying alive? What sort of pain is so hard to endure that you would have to resort to either of those options?"
Dad said "Son I believe this is killing me." As a smile ran away from his face. "I was so sure that I could be whole again, maybe getting out of the rat race."
"To be in this world without your mother is almost more than I can stand. This last year, since losing her, I don't even know who I am."
Me: "Your my Dad, that's all that matters to me." Then I thought of something to cheer him up, at least I hoped so, "After all, you're good enough, you're smart enough and dog on it, people like you."
He smiled slowly at the reference to the old SNL routine, he'd certainly quoted it his fair share of time. I could see that it hurt him to even smile. How could I relate, he'd been in love with my mother longer than I had been alive, how could I imagine that sort of loss? Yes I'd lost a mother, something I was still coming to terms with actually. Regardless of our pain we both put on a brave face most of the time, and hoped to God that inside somewhere we were healing.
Dad "I know how this must sound, but it just isn't fair, isn't right that she would be gone and I here. I would have given anything to go with her on that next great adventure. It's at times like these I curse that I take good care of myself. Not that it would have made a difference in her case. Life is a fickle thing. One day you're standing in the rain, the next you're in the dry arid climate of loneliness. I'd give anything just to not have to spend another day alone."
Me: "Maybe you'll meet someone new."
Dad: "I don't want anyone new..... I don't even know what I want, like I said, without her to anchor me I'm a ship tossed about in the storm. "
We had reached the ridge and were walking along the precarious path cut into the side of the ridge. The view was breathtaking.
Dad started humming, I recognized the tune as The Man of La Manche.
He started singing, it was beautiful, sad, and wonderful all at the same time:
"Oh the trumpets of glory 
Now call me to ride, 
Yes, the trumpets are calling to me, 
And wherever I ride, 
Ever staunch at my side 
My squire and my lady shall be! 
I am I, Don Quixote..."Tears were streaming down his face, he was smiling somehow through it all. To see this giant of a man reduced to tears was almost more than I could stand. The tears must have clouded his eyes because one minute he was walking along the trail, the next he had slipped. He held on to the cliff face, trying to get a foothold to push himself back up. I got down next to him and tried to help, but it was all I could do to hold him up. He looked up at me, tears still streaming down his face.
Dad: "I love you son, I want you to know I will always be proud of you."
I think teared up at this point too. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, how I needed him, but that wasn't what he needed. He needed me to help him, even if it was the last time.
I started up the tune for him again, singing the part of Sancho Panza:
"  The Lord of la Mancha 
our destiny calls and we go! 
And the wild winds of fortune Shall carry us onward, 
Oh, whithersoever they blow"
Dad: "Withersoever they blow
onward to glory I go."
He released his grip, I'll never forget that look on his face, peace at last.
"Give em hell Dad" I called out after him.

The black box

ok, haven't done a short piece in some time, and I haven't ever finished a space story, so this should be interesting. I am already aware that I can and may expand this.

The Black Box by Max Malcolm

We might have never found it if it weren't for the passing freighters. Black boxes are limited in their broadcast range, so teaching them to be smart enough to be found has been what engineers have put most of their energy into. That is why it crashed itself on a little speck of rock near a major space lane. It wasn't the busiest space lane in the galaxy, so the box may have been there for a year or more before we found it. Of course we found out before too long that much. Nothing on the tape let us know where the ship had jettisoned it's black box, but listening to the tape told us we would have a hard time finding  the wreckage.

This is what the recording said:
"Hello, this is captain Dan Callenbach of the good ship Endeavor. We started with a crew of five, however I am the only current survivor and I doubt that is going to last long. I am being pulled into the gravity of an unknown object and I doubt either the ship or I will survive the impact. The fuel is low and I can only hope that by pushing this recording device back into the space lanes it will find someone who can use this information so others can avoid our mistakes.
We were three days out of starport 2298 local nickname Kryldan's place headed out towards the end of the north arm to pick up passengers to bring back towards the outer core. Retirees and tourists mostly. It seemed like an easy gig, nice medium sized profit because most cruisers won't bother going out that far. The space lane we had chosen was rarely used, few stops along the way other than spaceports for freighters. There were rumours that some unknown risk had discouraged settlers from setting up camp near the lane. However the lane was not likely to be used by pirates because they need high traffic to make a profit. The only danger was dark matter. Our crew felt that was not even enough risk to be concerned about. It was night shift and most of the crew was asleep, most time on these long trips is spent resting because the only duties needed are to eat and check equipment. I was manning the controls, but I confess I may have dozed off or was daydreaming about some lovely lady I would pick up when we got back near the core.
All the data pointed to that the space lanes were intended to be cleared for one hundred miles of dark matter, and it was illegal to push any sort of matter in a way that it's trajectory passed it through the route. I suppose that's why the item that hit our ship was unexpected. A jolt went through the ship, followed by alarms going off all over. Something had punctured the hull leading to massive decompression in the crew cabin. The automatic safety systems sealed the room from the ship and attempted to seal the breach. It was too late at that point though, in less than five minutes my entire crew was dead.
I had bigger fish to fry, trying to pull into a safe zone to regroup and possibly at least keep myself alive. When you are going that fast and get hit, it alters your course and there is no way to correct it using steering. I was far out of sight of the the space lane before I even corrected the spin on our craft. By the time I had brought us to a near stop it was too far from the space lane, I would be at least a few days trying to backtrack to it and getting my ship to a repair yard.
Now that my ship was stopped I pulled up diagnostic screens. The main engines were beyond patching up, fuel tank ruptured, however the life support, food stores and computers remained undamaged. It was clear pretty quickly that I would not be surviving the crash. There was a slight chance our distress beacon would catch the eye of a passing ship, but those chances would keep getting worse as time went on. I must have blanked out my mind for awhile, because when I woke up hours later what I saw out the front window had changed radically. People talk about the thousand yard stare, but it feels entirely different from the inside. When you become so weary and worn out that you can't take it anymore it's like your mind detaches, and you find yourself staring off into the emptyness, unable to process. I suppose that is what happened to me, I had not prepared myself for the idea of my own death, or the death of all of my friends. Once the adrenaline wore off I had to face the reality, and I had trouble with that.
What I saw when I became aware again distracted me from my fate. I had begun passing through a graveyard of ships, perhaps thousands of them in all directions. All were dark hulks illuminated by the lights off of my ship. These hulks appeared to be orbiting something off to starboard, just out of my view. I turned the ship to face it. It was the largest piece of dark matter I had ever heard of, if it was solid it would be of too much mass to be possible, such a large object would collapse on itself as it was larger than any planetoid. In fact, as I looked on it and tried to turn my ship to see the edges of it, I realized it was larger than any star. The scale of it is beyond description, just imagine a giant wall, seemingly flat, extending in all directions. The surface is in fact curved, like a part of a sphere, but it appears flat because it is of such size. The surface area would be more than all of the planets in five star systems. It took me some time to examine what I could of this strange object, when it first appeared I was only able to detect it on instruments, it gave off a small amount of heat and radiation. As I got to a point that I should be able to see it I sent out probes to provide light to show the surface. The surface was either black or somewhat reflective. The lights on my probes reflected back, showing me some of the surface. It appeared metallic, with the exception of some areas that looked like organic portals, like the mouth of an octopus. I decided to put my ship into a geostationary orbit near one of these portals to record the circumstances of the crash and perform the appropriate burial at space for my crew. Unfortunately this ship will be my grave, but not quite yet.
It took me a few days to do all this, and I have watched the mysterious object. A few days ago a small craft pushed it's way out of one of the organic ports and sped up to escape the system, followed by a rocklike object fired out of the organic port like a bullet out of a gun.
Finally, just a few hours ago, a section of the side split open along lines I had not seen before. As it did I could see sunlight coming from the inside of the object and it became clear at last at least some things about this object. This object had once been a star system, and the star was unmapped because all light had been trapped by a huge sphere. I hope that I can find out more as some medium sized craft have emerged and seem to be approaching my ship presently. If they are friendly then this black box is unnecessary, so I will have to take the price of sending it back to the lanes as a loss. However the reason I fire it now is I may not have another chance, if I go inside the sphere I may never return. Furthermore I don't know for sure that those that come to greet me are friendly. So this may be the last that anyone hears from me. I cannot tell you where I am, I have told you everything I know. My advice is to avoid that length of the lane, it may mean a day or two detour but it would be better to avoid what happened to my ship. Goodbye, Godspeed gentlemen."

Needless to say we still have not found the system he spoke of, and many of our analysts are skeptical to take his word for it. Considering the condition of his psyche he may have been hallucinating. Regardless you have to wonder where he got such wild ideas, and where the final resting place of the man and his ship is.

Chapter 8

He stared at me across the stone cell. Every once and awhile he would puff on his cigar, and the light from the embers would show the shine on his eyes.
"You've gotten yourself involved in something deeper than you can imagine my friend. There really isn't anyone you should trust down here, especially not them. Just because they kept cards hidden doesn't mean what they told you is true, or at least from a certain point of view it's true. In their minds I'm sure they do think that people look up to them, or want their guidance. They probably even think they are immortal." And he stopped to take a puff on his cigar.
"So they're just full of hot air? and how do you know so much? Who are you?"
"Like I said, I'm the Concierge. I used to have another name but I seem to have misplaced it a few decades or more back. I'm not one of them if that's what you think, but I'm not like you either. I'm, well I'm something else."
He said and I could hear the confident smile and pride in that, not a haughty pride but a self confidence and charm that seemed to ooze from his voice every now and then.
"As far as how I know things, well that is another story. Lets just say I got a different proposal when I arrived here. Add in that I've been here and met them before. I've seen more of this complex than most of them have or will. That leads around to your hot air question. The answer is yes and no. They certainly don't think they are misleading you, but they refuse to see things. They also keep secrets, like that those beasts are just one part of an elder race, and they are trying to steal those secrets. Deception is a way of life for them, as is fear. They deceive themselves by editing their reality. They are still human in that respect, that they can't stand to see how limited or scared they are. They don't know everything about these tunnels because they are scared to. And they won't admit that sometimes they die because they don't want to remember the dead. They don't want to think about it happening to them. You'll find my friend that in most cases the most primal motive is fear. That's a good thing and a bad thing. Good that you were afraid and too cautious to trust them, that's your gut helping you. Bad that you didn't listen to fear and bolt while you had the chance. And bad that they let fear drive them further from humanity.
So I wouldn't trust them, and I wouldn't trust anyone unless you know who they really are."
"Message recieved, caution is the rule, now why don't you tell me who you really are so I can trust what you say?"
"I'm afraid we don't have time, we could be here months before my story is finished, and how could I trust you that I just met to do that? Anyway we need to move faster than that if we are to save your friends on the surface. I'm not going to give you everything you need. I will tell you to take care of those pets, and even our friends themselves remember that you come from the above world, and they do not. Put that to your advantage. The final way I will help you is to open this door for you and give you a tool."
He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a metal object the size and shape of a hockey puck and dropped it into my hands.
"This will glow different colors based on who else is nearby while you are underground and near the network of tunnels and glowing carvings. These carvings form a network that has multiple benefits, this tool can tap some of those benefits. Hold it close to the wall and it will whine and the pitch will get higher as you follow the path towards the nearest exit. There are other uses but those are the two you will need most. Don't trust the tunnels, don't trust the dark and don't trust your eyes if the tool tells you different listen to the tool, it knows better than your senses. And with that, you should go."
He walked over to the cell door, pulled out a metal item and stuck it in the keyhole, and the door swung open.
"Good luck, better run"
So I did.
--------------------------------------------
Authors note: Glad to be back, sorry for the short chapter but wanted to have that conversation and take the next step towards moving the story forward

Chapter 7

Authors note: after I finish a later chapter I will go back and rework all the chapters into a more cohesive whole. Some major changes need to be made in chapter 6 for example, names need to be corrected. A few areas need expansion. But until I have a little more story to tell.

Chapter 7

I slept an uneasy sleep. And in my sleep, once again visions came to me. I was walking down the tunnels, without flashlight or aid my feet seemed to find their own way. As I turned one of the sharp turns my left hand reached out to the wall and engravings on that wall. As I touched it a glow started where-ever I touched. I continued to walk, I dragged two fingers across the wall on my left side. The glow had an orange hue as it grew to fill the passage. I felt a rhythm exude from the wall as I walked, a drum beat and a deep tone filled the space as I walked into the altar chamber. As I entered the chamber the light traveled behind me, following me like a dog looking for food. It crept out of the tunnel, growing til it filled the chamber with glowing light. I walked up to a closed door and placed two palms over two symbols that seemed to be calling to me. A warmth spread from the door into my palms, through my arms and with it spread a feeling like when your foot falls asleep. This whole time my actions seemed to just, make sense, I didn't decide to do anything. The door opened up before me, and on I walked, once again making contact with the wall as I entered this new tunnel. A softer light followed me now, I could still see, but only barely. The beat grew stronger as I walked on, the floor tilting slightly forward as I moved further in. The passage split, I took a path without thinking or even having time to note where the other path branched off to. The beat formed part of a song, wordless it penetrated my mind. I closed my eyes and hummed it as my feat moved of their own accord. On and on my feat seemed compelled by the beat as if charmed by a snake charmer. I know I passed through several more splits in the path because as the passage grew larger my fingers lost contact with the wall, though my feat did not slow. My eyes slowly opened as my feet brought me to a stop at the end of a tunnel, and I saw a hole in the floor, with a ladder sticking out of it. Once again my hands and feet knew what to do, and I began descending the ladder. Darkness enveloped me as I got farther down the ladder, passed where the light shone from the hole above. I lost count of the steps, I must have been traveling down hundreds of feet. All I knew for a long time was darkness and the stone wall in front of me.
As I reached the bottom of the steps, I found myself in a wide tall space, at one end to my right a single door was illuminated by a single symbol, exactly the same as the one I had seen on the door in the cellar, that seemed so long ago now. As I moved closer to it however I realized the scale it was built on. The door was over double my height, and wide enough to move an elephant through with room to spare. The symbol dominated it, and was the only marking on it's otherwise smooth surface. As I got within several feet of it, and moved my hands to place my palms against the door I was startled by a loud booming sound, like the footsteps of a giant. As I got within several feet of the door I realized that it was different from the other doors in another way, in that it was stone and not metal. It then revealed a further difference, as a crack formed down the middle, and the door became two which swung inward. As I tried to peer through the blackness the door had created in opening, I saw lamps light themselves, old style gas lanterns attached to Pillars in the interior space. These pillars were 4 feet wide, flaring at the base and extending upwards into a fog and supposedly eventually the ceiling. I began slowly moving into the hall revealed by the lamplight. A cloud of smoke appeared on either side of me, barely a foot away from touching me, and out of this cloud two robed figures appeared. Before I could even react they bound my hands in front of me with coarse rope. It hurt, and I realized I wasn't dreaming. One end of the rope they held, though at no point did I see their hands. A voice, deep and soothing came from one of the figures. "Follow us and all will be explained." I looked more closely at the figures as I had been distracted earlier by their theatrical entrance. They both stood much taller than me, at least seven feet tall, though they must have been slender because no part of their bodies seemed to touch the outside of their robes, and all openings in the robes seemed empty, almost like some sort of specter or spirit had inhabited the fabric. However they appeared quite real.
I passed on, moving deeper in and following my mysterious hosts. As we moved on a fog seemed to make the dark grip close. The dark felt like a blanket that provided no warmth, and caused a sort of uneasy feeling of being trapped, of claustraphobia. I lost so much of my ability to see that I was force to hold onto the cloak of the person in front of me. There was no telling what gender said person was. While tall and manish in voice, there was something distinctly feminine and graceful in their movements. I sensed some sort of movement out in the fog, several feet away. I heard most of it, but occasionally I would see something resembling a bit of skin, or perhaps a slicked down fur coat. I felt something wet and furry slip past my leg, and that perhaps is what put the idea of a slick furry thing moving in the dark. I tried to imagine it was a rat, but my senses would not participate in my deception, and reminded me it felt wrong for a rat.
I was led to the center of a great chamber which in shape reminded me very much of the chamber we had discovered up above, except in greater size, and more like an imitation of that chamber. The writing was absent but the glowing carvings were not. They glowed blue, carved into straight lines along the floor, illustrating a chair obviously intended for me to occupy. I sat cautiously, frightened of what these strange persons would do to me, but frightened more of displeasing them. I tried not to show any fear and instead attempted to be bold.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The glowing carvings provided a bluish light showing many persons or creatures in hoods in the room surrounding me, behind individual podiums. The podiums rose out of the rock of the floor as if carved there when they carved the chamber, I made assumptions on that fact, but did not follow that line of questioning.
A voice came from my right and all turned towards it, the voice while deep was also commanding, speaking loud and clear like a sunday preacher. The tone was rather sermon like as well, resembling a fire and brimstone southern preacher, though I had already seen enough to curl even their hair. Perhaps enough to put the fear of God as it's said, but to be more accurate a fear of the unknown.
The voice rose, though it could have been any of three speakers, as they all sat in that area, and made no movements to indicate which had said the words: "While we will adress those issues in our own time, you will show all due respect. You are in our home now and so those questions would be more appropriate coming from our lips and not yours. However I will tell you we need not answer your questions, we know more of you than you of us. We may even know more than you about why you are here than you do yourself. But to answer your question first: We are the Eldest, a group with similar goals and with the means to attain them. We are immortals, some of the insects that crawl on the surface above have chosen to call us Gods, but there is nothing absurdly supernatural in our long life. Merely avoiding risks and believing does a fair part. But a larger part is linked to your second question. We are about several things, some we can speak of, some we can't. These caves link into a greater system that covers most of the continent, and connects to much more, though how much even we have not determined. That is one of our tasks, Another is tending to the creatures that live in these caverns, a relic from a race beyond time, but of that we cannot tell you more. Finally we continue to secure our immortality by dwelling this close to the surface and,  shall we call it harvesting? Yes you may cringe but there is a great science to this, man has suspected it but not had the proper ways of achieving it, but by consuming the weak we become wiser and live for longer."
He paused here and let the indigestion that was clear on my face pass. The unease however, did not pass. Now many things were more clear. These people needed to be exposed to the authorities and wiped out.
"I do not need supernatural powers to tell that you plan to try exposing us, I would not advise trying it. There are secrets we guard more dangerous than just the loss of a single life. If you decided not to join us, yes I said join us, you will be detained until we can find a suitable way of erasing your memory, or of disposing of you. You may find that shocking that we don't eat you on sight but we are not savages, the people above are, Many of your forbearers sit among our ranks, though few have risen to the council that is their choice. Now you know what we can tell you, until you join and swear eternal loyalty we cannot reveal much more. If you have questions you may ask now. I repeat you may ask, but we may decline to answer."
Though I had many things I wanted to ask the most burning question rose to the top: "Where is my father? and the two men I brought on my first visit to the lodge above?"
"Your father? Yes I can see why you would think we would know that, though we do know much we are not omnipotent, like I said at the outset people merely mistake us for Gods. All I can tell you about him is that his time to either join us or perish had come, he would have found a way to pass to you a notebook he carries containing some and some more than I have told you here. As that is not all mine to tell I can reveal no further."
"And my friends?"
"I'm afraid the protection that extends to you does not extend to guests you bring, and that applies to all the members of your feeble human team at our gates. We spared them simply because we wanted you to come to us without seeing too much bloodshed, and to protect you of course. The blood flowing through your body is prime for selective breeding and for our selection process. We find it impossible to create more of our number through procreation, so we must recruit to expand our reach."
I responded with unfamiliar boldness: "No, not I, my team will find you eventually, and I don't think you'd hurt your investment."
"We are saddened by your choice but hopefully you will change your mind before you force our hand. For now you will be imprisoned, we have fed recently and you are right at least that you are valuable. We would much prefer everyone be friends."
At that they led me to a stairwell and led me up some steps into a dark prison cell. Almost immediately after my captor left me I realized I was not alone. Another man sat at the other end of the cell. I saw him as he lit a cigar, and by the light of the cigar embers. He was dressed in a finely tailored white suit with pinstripes. He appeared very much the gentleman, but something about those eyes, it unsettled me.
"Hello, so glad you get to share the hospitality of our hosts."
He offered a hand to shake, I was too startled to reject the familiar gesture and shook it. It was the type of handshake to chill your bones, firm with those strong weathered hands. Seemed like hands of a blacksmith not a gentleman. He smiled a warm smile but something was just off. So very polite. They say that first impressions are the longest lasting, I doubt I could forget his.
"I am called the Concierge, and you have no idea what you're getting yourself into"
*music sting*
--------------------
That last bit was for my friend who knows who the concierge is, but the rest of you will get to know him soon enough. I'm terribly sorry it took me so long, I had myself written into kind of a corner there, but finally sprung that trap. Hopefully this will loosen up the story again and get it moving.

after the end: video version

Ok, recorded me reading the story, posted it on my youtube channel
Also if you are a fan of music browse over to my other videos
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gj6cf5XX9ZY

after the end

no one ever considers what comes after the horrible end, if such horrible ends do come. In such sad stories it is simply said "he died" or "they died", and you are to hang your head, to feel the pang of sadness at their tragic end. It's rarely considered what comes next. Our story starts after the end. The bombs had all fallen, the heroes all dead, the battles all lost. No one really wins in the end, the logical conclusion of war is death. And there was death, so much death. A layer of ash lay over what was once some part of America, if I cannot tell you what part it is only because almost all of it looked much the same, lifeless, fields and valleys and mountains of fine grain sand. For hundreds of miles, a layer of sand and silt lay over the landscape, broken by an occasional oasis, the once verdant lands converted into nearly endless dessert. I suppose you might be able to figure out something by the fact that the wind when it blew was not so cold that it would kill, and the heat during the day was not so hot as to cause instant dehydration.
The days really have no number either, but I can tell you it was some time after the end that the man emerged to survey his new dominion. In those days it was said that every man was at least the equal of a duke, or perhaps even a king, because there was so much land available to any one man that they could be considered as rich as the dukes and kings of early centuries. There would be no more competition for land, not for some time. I cannot even be sure of the other survivors, just of the man I will tell you of. He had the luck, if you can call it luck, of being in a shelter when the horror struck. Regardless, he had been knocked unconscious, and had laid out for time beyond memory. He did not dream, and hardly found a need for food or even a great amount of fresh air for some time. The time he laid there was at least a week, it could have been a month or two, perhaps even several years, all the clocks were broken, and calenders need human hands to advance the months and to mark off days. You probably think I'm silly for estimating such a long time for our friend to have laid in repose, recovering from the disaster. People always forget the strangeness of the human body itself. The tale of rip van winkle may not be so far off from the truth. I tell you that what I think happened, and again I cannot be sure for I am no doctor and there are few experts who could tell you, is that his body greatly wished to sleep through whatever calamity had befallen mankind. And after his mind and body met in conference and discovered there was no sleeping through the awful fact, why I believe at that point they decided that death would be a better fate than living in such a world. I wouldn't be surprised if an eye was cracked at that point, and upon opening closed very quickly to try and block out such a cruel reality.
Again, this is all conjecture, but what I can tell you is that a man is not so much the captain of his own fate as that his body will stop when it is supposed to. Like I said, this is a story about what happens after the end. The man's life did end, in a way, on the day the bombs fell. But of what came before I'm not here to tell. He opened his eyes, and emerged from the structure that had been a building of some kind. In fact, it had been a post office. Our hero was no post man, he was simply checking his postal box in the well built structure, and the structure itself protected him. He had been the only one in the building at the time not near a window, and so he was the person to disturb the dust as he sat up, and dusted himself off. He found his way to an outside door, opened it and surveyed the landscape. The sun beat down too hard for him to see for a minute, but as his eyes adjusted he saw the endless dust covering most of the remains of his hometown. He tried running to his car, but parked on the street it had become an unrecognizable hulk. So he started jogging across the wasted landscape, towards where his home and family had been. He found no street signs, and so from memory he tried to find his neighborhood. But it, like most of the town, had been converted to sand and ash. when he dug through almost a foot of the ash mix he found what had once been the ground, the concrete of a foundation and in another place the still nutrient rich soil was all that remained of a house and lawn, perhaps his, perhaps his neighbors, perhaps someone he didn't even know. He realized he was still holding something, his mail. It was the day the bills had come, how funny was that? he chuckled at the bills, no more worrying about that. "I'm immortal" a voice in his head seemed to mutter, half to himself, half proclaiming it to the world. So he said it out loud. "I'm immortal" he said in his normal speaking voice, still trying to figure out why he had said it, and was he really?
He saw there was more than just bills in the stack of mail. He found a sales flier. The sales flier was for home insurance. He chuckled again. Then he laughed, he laughed and laughed so hard he had to sit down. He screamed and laughed at how silly it was. It said "Protect your investment, you never know what might happen." No comedian on earth had ever said a sillier set of words. Danny Kaye, or Robin Williams or any comedian of any time period would be envious of such a perfect joke, with such perfect timing. He laughed so hard he cried. He cried so hard he ran out of air and passed out in the sand. And that is what happened after the end.
-------------
I just had this story to tell, there might be more, I just don't know. I hope you liked it.

A request: Love story: Jack's story

Someone special asked me to write a love story, so I decided I would. I do requests if I can, it might only be a short tale, but remember the sentiment is deep.
For Kaci

Jack's story

Jack never expected what might happen in his life.  But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. The year was somewhere in the 90s, before the y2k panic but during the clinton era for anyone who is counting. The city was Denver, not the biggest city, or the most romantic, but love can happen anywhere. Jack was an artist, self taught. He painted beautiful pictures, everyone told him someday his work might hang in a museum. For some reason he didn't really know whether to believe them. His work, it still lacked something. For some reason he couldn't put his finger on it. I suppose I shouldn't get too far into his career, you might be thinking now that this isn't a success story, it's a love story. Well, first of all, let me get to it I'm setting the stage. I might also add that love of your work is a beautiful thing in it's own right so stop making such quick judgments. Don't think you know it all, I don't. But I'll stop teasing you because Jack's search for inspiration, whether he knew it or not, would lead him into adventures he never expected.
So our story starts on a morning sometime in winter, it's very cold out, but not so much as to prevent people from going about their daily life. On this morning, like many before it, Jack woke up with the sunrise, got out of bed, and put on his slippers. He fumbled around for some suitable clothing, and attempted to make himself breakfast. But, alas he had forgotten to buy coffee, the curse of an artist is the flighty mind, he was perhaps entranced with some color, or daydreaming about something or other, or maybe he just forgot. We don't really know, but what jack DID know was that he needed coffee, he felt like a train had run over him and he needed to stop feeling that way or how was he supposed to be inspired? And so his foggy brain came up with a plan, to finish getting dressed for a start. Then down the stairs from his loft apartment, to the street. Then his foggy brain managed to remember a coffee shop only two blocks away, where he gladly ordered his normal coffee drink, and didn't have to fix it for himself for once. Like I said, it was winter, and being winter and morning the coffee shop was rather full. Everyone seemed to be craving a quick pick me up. So all the tables were rather full. He contemplated, for a moment, returning to his home and sipping his coffee in peace there, but his dislike for the cold walk alone was just enough to make him settle down in a seat by a fake fireplace, across from a person who seemed to be hidden behind a newspaper. He tried a sip of his coffee, alas still too hot to enjoy. So he attempted to find something to read, maybe get inspired. The magazines were dull, and despite being a normally pretty easy to stimulate person he found himself restless. And so he sat there, he drank in the environment of the coffee shop, and he found himself curious about the person behind the newspaper, what they were reading and what them here on this morning, and perhaps if he could persuade them to lend it to him.
This, among other reasons, was why he struck up a conversation with the young lady when she emerged from behind her curtain of newspaper, folded it up, and saw him looking at her. "Good morning!" said she, in some shock, but interest to strike up a conversation. "And a good morning to you as well.", said he in a generally genial sort of way, at this point he had taken some sips of his coffee and already was feeling much perkier. "I saw you were reading the paper and was wondering what article caught your interest?" he said.
She: Oh I was reading about the new play that opened last night, a friend of mine was in the production.
He: Oh that does sound interesting. By the way my name is Jack.
He extended his hand and she gently shook it, in the way polite women do.
He continued: I'm an artist and I always do enjoy seeing other people's creative efforts.
She replied: My name is Zelma. an artist you say? what sort of art?
He: Painting, generally. I have tried my hand at other art, but I seem to do my best work with paint. What do you do?
She: I'm going back to school. I want to learn more about architecture. I don't really know if I'll apply it but I'm interested to learn, maybe go into real estate. So what do you do with your spare time?
He: Well, daydream alot, look for inspiration, play games every now and then.
She: Do you ever need company on your search for inspiration?
He smiled a knowing smile and said: I could use someone to, shall we say, help me expand my horizons.
She scooted closer, and looked him in the eyes and said: Perhaps I could help you with that.
He returned her gaze, interested, and perhaps telling more with his eyes than his lips he said: Well I'm game for that. When are you free?
She found herself taking a boldness that surprised even her and said: right now actually, I was just passing the time here. Would you like to go for a walk?
He was equally entranced by her boldness, and stood, and offered a hand to her, and said: I'd love to
They talked for hours, sharing stories, asking and telling much more about themselves, it almost seemed like they had known eachother for some time the conversation came so easily. She found herself leaning on him as the day wore on, and he found his arm wrapped around her waist. It wasn't conscious on either of their parts, sometimes these things just have a way of happening on their own. Sadly the days in winter are short, and so after watching the sunset, they decided to part. He walked her home, and taking some initiative he brought her close and kissed her.
He said, with all the warmth in his heart: Goodnight sweet Zelma, I'll be thinking of you.
And she said, feeling bubbly and so happy: Goodnight my Jack, I look forward to seeing you again.
When Jack got home all he could think about was her, his lady, his new muse.
To be fair I must say that it was much the same for her, she thought of how she wanted to fall asleep in his arms. He fell asleep that night hugging a pillow, dreaming it was his sweet loving lady.
They had more wonderful dates, some days him charming and surprising her, sometimes she was the one who seemed to be the charmer. It could really be said that neither one of them was being the leader or being led. They came of their own free will, drawn by the warmth of loves flame in a world of ice and snow. One night, when the moon was shining bright, she led him to her bed chamber following an evening of star gazing, and they made love. I won't intrude on their intimate time with the details, but let me just say that it was everything and more than either of them expected. They wanted that night to last forever, and while it did it felt like it would. Sadly into every life some rain must fall. And with the usual cruelty that life gives the time they had together was cut short. One day six months after they had met her father came to town and told her that he had gotten her into Harvard, and that she must leave immediately. He had pulled all his strings for you see he was a business man, and he wanted her to carry on his legacy. And so for a time Jack had to do without his darling Zelma. I won't sugar coat it for you my dear readers it was pretty brutal. For Jack it felt most painful of all I feel, as an artist he was prone to slumps, and his work didn't bring him as much joy as it might have otherwise. He went through the motions, but his new work seemed to only sing back to him his song of lonelyness.
Halfway across the continent Zelma longed for her Jack, she wanted to send him letters but her father had ways of intercepting them. Her only hope, was to escape her father's grasp. But she seemed unable to find a way to do it. A year passed, achingly slowly.
One day, a friend of Jack's was sitting with him, listening to his troubles. He said: You know Jack, maybe you should do something about this lost love of yours, problems don't just solve themselves. Sometimes you have to be the one that makes change happen.
So Jack realized that was true, and he came up with a daring plan. He had to sell almost everything he owned except the shirt on his back. He gave up the lease on his apartment. And he bought two things, a train ticket to get across the country, and a ring. He decided he would take the bull by the horns, take the risks. After all you're only young and in love once, if you're lucky. He rode all night and all day to get to the city where his love was, and when he got there he had to ask for some time before he found out where she was. She was in a strict sorority, one that forbid them any contact with boys, that put high value on studies and no value on social life. He had to sneak into the campus at night. He happened to make friends with one of the night patrolmen by telling his tale of love. By using this contact he was able to get to and find her window, Zelma's window, his love so close at last. It was a first floor window, rare luck indeed. He inched close to the window, which lie next to her bed, and he whispered as loud as he dared: Zelma, it's your Jack, please open the window.
Zelma thought she was dreaming at first. Jack had to whisper a second time before she believed it was him. Her heart jumped for joy, it pounded so hard it felt like it was going to come out of her chest. She opened the window. In he crept, into her room. She kissed him, wanting to take him now and show him her love, regardless of the surroundings. He stopped her, and told her he had something important to talk to her about. I think her heart skipped a beat. What could be that important? she wondered. He got down on one knee and brought out the ring. His voice sounded braver than he felt, for truly he was as scared as he had ever been in his life. He said: Zelma, I love you. I've traveled hundreds of miles, sold everything I have and risked everything to find you again. Now I have to know, will you come back with me and be my wife?
Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged him saying: Yes yes a thousand times yes you wonderful silly man.
They both jumped out the window, and she hired a taxi to take them to her father's house in nearby Boston. She knocked on the door, it was early morning at this point. The butler answered the door, and went to wake her father. Jack came with her into her father's study. Now as Jack faced the man who had taken his love from him, but whom he must respect as the father of the woman  he loved, he was a little intimidated. But his love for Zelma pushed him on. He stood up, and spoke strongly saying: Sir, I have asked your daughter to marry me and she has agreed. We would like your blessing. I can take care of her and I love her and I intend to make her my wife.
Her father replied: What of her career? What about her future?
Jack answered: Have you thought to ask her what sort of future she wants?
Her father: Well Zelma? what do you want?
Zelma: I want to be with him, I want to have his children, everything else is secondary.
Her father turned to Jack, and for a moment just looked at him, appraising him you might say.
He spoke: Boy, you have made me see my error today. In the beginning I was furious, but you humbled me. You obviously make my daughter happy, and you showed great cunning in getting here and getting her back. Not many men would risk so much, and there is only one reason. Your love is worthy, welcome to the family, son.
Epilogue
Now it's many years later, their children are just entering their teen years. Sometimes they need reminding of what being young and reckless is like, but I can tell you this, they are just as happy today as they were on their wedding day. And their children know the meaning of love, and doing what it takes to find it, and keep it. They are happy, and who knows, maybe they really will live happily ever after.

Chapter 6

By the time we woke up the next day the college team was already hard at work decrypting and cataloging our discoveries from the previous night. I asked professor Kent to brief me on their progress after breakfast. Professor Kent explained that while some segments of the carvings remained untranslated they had cracked the code for at least some of the writing. He told me that there were at least two different languages used in the writing, and that based on natural weathering the carvings were done over a long time period, with the most recent being at the mouth of the tunnel. The writings told the story of some sort of religion, or perhaps cult would be a more apt description. Based on the style of the writing this cult had roots around the time of the pyramids, and the founders had traveled from there to here. What made them settle here was still unclear. It also appeared that the same writer was at work for what must have been several hundred years, though the writer rarely talks about himself. It still remained unclear what the meaning of their beliefs was, but it seemed to center on receiving a more clear understanding but of what it doesn't say. The problem of translation was that the writing wasn't intended for outsiders, it is merely a chronicle so that other members of the cult could understand. They also spoke of vibrations, and they seemed to dance around what it was that they worshiped, only that it was much older.
One member of the team had spent some time testing bone samples in a lab they set up at the base. The bone samples were humans, some dating back several decades.
The recording devices had picked up more rumbling and noises as we slept, but no movement.
Finally, he had saved the best news for last, they had unlocked the secret behind one of the doors in the chamber. They had spent the past few hours documenting the door because all doors were designed to slide back into the wall, and we still didn't know how to close them again once opened.
I gathered our exploration team and hiked down into the chamber.
As we reached the alter chamber we prepared to explore beyond the door that our team had been working on unlocking.
The door slid aside effortlessly, despite it's size it moved as noiselessly and gracefully as if it weighed nothing. The tunnel revealed behind the door sloped gently up. The walls were smooth and glassy, as was the floor and ceiling. The shape of the tunnel changed as we moved along, from having a squared off floor and an arch above to completely round. After gently sloping up for a few feet the tunnel leveled off and continued straight for several hundred feet. I was leading the group, as my curiosity got the better of me. we had difficulty setting up lights, the glassy smooth surface of the tunnel was much too hard to chip with our chisels. We still dragged a wire behind to keep communication with our team who had set up a temporary camp at the mouth of the tunnel we continued to delve into. After leveling off for a time, the tunnel began to slant downwards and curve to the right. It became obvious after the tunnel had been curving for awhile that it formed a spiral, spiraling deeper and deeper into the rock. I still marvel at how we reached that conclusion however. It became apparent when we looked at the side of the tunnel on the right, the side that curved. We discovered that the sides of the tunnel were semi transparent, and that some sort of space existed past that wall. As we looked through the side of the tunnel we saw the lights both in the tunnel over our head, and across an expanse on the other side of the spiral. We stopped in admiration of this effect once or twice in the beginning, then for a long time we walked. Level stacking upon level, we must have been 10 stories below the level that we had started into the spiral. Suddenly a movement seemed to catch our eyes. This movement was on the other side of the tunnel wall, in the expanse in the center of the spiral. It looked like, some sort of swimming thing, or was it flying? It's hard to tell what this, thing was moving through.  We hadn't really thought about the expanse that much up until that point, but now it seemed to be all that we could think about. we sat on the floor of the tunnel to take a rest, and to watch the expanse to see if the movement repeated itself. After what seemed like an hour of tense waiting, it did. None of us could pinpoint where the mass came from, but suddenly it fell down the expanse, as gracefully as something moving through water, which supported the theory that the expanse was filled with water. This thing, it wasn't human, and it didn't look like any creature of the air or water that I was familiar with. I wished we had a closer ability to study it, it was frightening and horrible, yet so beautiful, perhaps because of the way it gracefully flew through the expanse. It had six appendages that moved in a sort of boneless dance. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared it was gone. We determined it was time to keep moving. A couple hundred feet ahead we found a branch off the main tunnel to the left. We felt that we could always get deeper into the the main tunnel, but now was as good a time as any to explore this new tunnel, we felt like this would be a good area to finish off and return to base after we finished exploring this new area. The new tunnel was more of the stone we had seen in the upper areas. The carvings in the side were closer to hieroglyphics, illustrating some sort of creature similar to what we had seen in the expanse. It showed some sort of manlike creatures bowing to them. Perhaps this was the object of the mysterious cult's worship. We discussed what the purpose of this branch of tunnels might be, tomb or temple. The tunnel opened up into a large hall, two stories tall with massive stone pillars. The hall was decorated evenly with more pictures and ancient writing. The hall was perhaps a hundred feet wide by three hundred feet long. At the end of the hall a wide set of steps led up to a  balcony overlooking the room. We climbed the stairs and behind the balcony found a doorway. Beyond the doorway we found a large room. I didn't see the room for myself, one of our surveyors was the first into the room.  His scream came suddenly with pain and alarm. He appeared to be trying to remove himself from the room he had just entered. He managed to remove himself, but at the cost of a good portion of his upper arm and shoulder. The source of his loss didn't remain a mystery for long as the strange thing chased him into the hall. It was one of the mysterious creatures described on the walls of the hall. It pushed him back, and he lost his balanced and tumbled over the railing of the balcony. He landed on top of one of the survival experts, just behind me. The injured man was completely incapacitated, but the survival expert recovered. My attention however was on the creature. I pulled out my gun and cocked it, as did the undowned survival expert. The creature floated to the center of the room, and attempted to dive down on me. I dodged it, but I felt it's dry appendage brush me as I rolled away. I fired into the center of the thing's body. It seemed disoriented as the echo of my shot rang through the chamber. That was the upshot of the situation, the only problem? My shots woke more of these things. There were at least 10 of them that streamed out, writhing in the air, searching using their blind tentacles. By the time the others had finished entering the chamber the downed survival expert had recovered his feet and prepared his gun. They seemed to be focused on me at first, then as the two survival experts opened fire they split their attentions between the three of us. We systematically dispatched several of them in a row, then had to reload. This was the most frightening of all, it left us no defense but running and hiding behind the pillars. There seemed to be no escape, I was caught by one of them just as I finished reloading, it tore a gash down my side. I twisted away from this thing, pushed my gun against it's flesh and fired at point blank range. The thing was down for the count, leaving half their number. Something came over me, I started screaming in rage at them,  I ran after them, got as close as I could and fired into the center mass of their bodies. One shot per creature dispatched them all. After the battle we paused to regroup before returning to base. We recovered our dropped equipment and used the radio to communicate our situation to the team at the mouth of the tunnel. They offered to send down help, but we refused, as it would take too much time and we didn't want to wait more than we had to. We determined that the injured surveyor would have to be carried by his fellow surveyor and the survival expert who had not had a body dropped on top of him. We were all injured to some extent, from minor scratches on the survival experts to the missing chunks of the first surveyor's arm. The second surveyor was the exception. He had no weapon and had not taken part in the battle. In fact the creatures had ignored him completely, and he had been wise to not try and attract their attention. We decided there would be plenty of time to recap after returning to base camp and tending our wounds. We prepared to move up the tunnel as quickly as we could, leaving our lights in place for future exploration, which though far from our mind, did save us the trouble of toting it all back up the tunnel. As we made the best speed we could up the tunnel we couldn't help but notice one more unsettling thing. The center of the expanse was writhing with what appeared to be hundreds of the unsettling creatures we had dispatched in the hall below. They made horrible clicking sounds, now I finally knew the source and it gave me no comfort knowing that. Every once and awhile one would propel itself against the tunnel wall, bounce off and reunite with the center mass of writhing creatures. The tunnel was made of stronger stuff however and didn't show any sign of cracking. As we neared the top however I heard a number of noises behind me, and I saw two of the things chasing us, gliding along the tunnels making horrible clicking noises, letting the sharp talons at the end of their appendages scratch the walls, which though it left no mark made a horrible scratching noise. I had taken the precaution of loading my gun before we had started moving and I dispatched them with two shots each. When we reentered the stone chamber, we told everyone there to pack up and be ready to move up the tunnel to base camp. They took a little over 15 minutes, in that time two of the creatures drifted up to the mouth of the tunnel, as they moved within five feet of the mouth I dispatched them. This seemed to put some motivation in the team to get moving, we moved even quicker up the tunnel to our base in the cellar. When we got to base those of us who were wounded had our wounds dressed. A duty roster was made up so that one man would always sit beside the tunnel entrance near the base. I don't think any of us slept well that night.

Chapter 5

authors note: the format of this chapter is more of a continuation of the previous chapter because that is really what it is. On with the tale.

Professor Kent was particularly fascinated by the stories revealed in the logbook of the estate, especially linked to the carvings and runes I had discovered in the old cellar. He insisted on me that local universities would be glad to send archaeological teams to study the obvious history behind the structure. The next morning he requested that we return to the cellar and apply the full manpower of our team into exploring, lighting and mapping the cellar. I agreed on the condition that no one must go down the tunnel, not until we had more manpower and perhaps a greater knowledge of what was really going on down there. We woke up much before dawn and went without breakfast so as to start setting up lights until every inch of the main area of the cellar was lit. This took several hours using traditional gas lamps, and it was generally agreed that one thing we should do when we went about purchasing more equipment that a generator and electric lamps would be a good expenditure of money. As it stood we had enough gas canisters to last us only a few days because we had planned to use daylight in as many areas as we could. This former strategy was successful in that we did not have to devote much energy to hauling fuel and had more room for food and other essential items. The new revelations however would force our hands to outfit our expedition with more expensive lighting and probably invest more in communications and more high tech equipment. Up to this point our most complex equipment had been cameras. As we went through these items we required we wrote them down to include in our proposal to present to the local university. Professor Kent spent most of the morning after setting up some lights obsessed with photographing and recording what he could about the cellar. The rest of us performed a general survey of the cellar. We found the pantries we had known were down there, as well as many store rooms some of which were stacked ceiling high with boxes. The group decided to move our base of operations to an empty store room was obvious when considering that we did not want to go up and down stairs every time we had something we wanted to bring into our base of operations for study. Outside the store room we set up two lights that would remain lit at all times that anyone was in the cellar.
At about this time the professor completed his photography of the carvings, and I was satisfied with my contributions towards the exploration of the cellar. After having a quick lunch with our team, the professor and I packed some examples of our findings and headed into the town of Garfunkel. The Garfunkel university was our first stop. Professor Kent had a solid reputation with them having taught at the college in the past. He gathered a few deans and professors of archeology to discuss our findings. Needless to say they were impressed. The deans had the power to immediately grant us the funding to obtain better equipment and five graduate students. They required of us that we document the explorations as completely as possible, and that if artifacts of historical significance were acquired that they either be donated or loaned to the school for at least 5 years. We agreed to the requirements, and signed contracts saying that we represented the university at the site. After that we did inform the university that we could not absolutely certify the safety of the site, but every precaution possible would be taken to protect the members of the expedition. Their enthusiasm was such that they shrugged that off, and told us that "Such dangers are always present when advancing the cause of knowledge and science." We asked the new members of our expedition to go prepare their bags, and we gave them directions to the property. We then cashed the check from the university and obtained all the provisions we needed. The university had loaned us a larger truck capable of moving larger amounts of equipment and we found it necessary to fill it to the brim with the various items we needed. In addition to electric lighting and gas generators, we purchased computer equipment sufficient that every member of our team would be able to document their experience. The university had provided more specialized camera equipment of the type used by professional photographers, as well as measuring devices that covered the whole spectrum from air quality indications to accurately determining the age of various samples. There was no worry in my mind as to our being prepared to document what we found. I sent Professor Kent to the property, I had one further purchase I didn't want him with me to see. I went to a local hunting supply store and purchased a shotgun to keep at the base as well as a pistol that I intended to keep on me at all times. The man at the shop advised me to practice with my weapons so I would be well prepared when the time was right. I also purchased the ammunition I needed, telling myself it would be better to be over cautious than unprepared for the worst.
It was almost dark as I drove back up the path to the lodge, but when I got there I found it well lit, and that the entire team was awaiting my arrival. After moving the provisions from my vehicle to our base downstairs we sat down and had a meeting. Everyone was introduced to the new members of our team, our arrangement with the university was explained to those that had not been there, and a plan of action was formed. It was decided that the students would be far better used at the base analyzing our findings, being led by the professor. I would head up a team exploring the tunnel, followed by the surveyors and survival experts. I privately noted that the survival experts were armed as they had expected to be exploring wooded areas, and thus had prepared for the dangers of facing hostile wild animals. After the meeting I discussed that it would be wise to bring their rifles with them, just to be prepared. I suspect they thought me silly to worry about hostile creatures underground, but I didn't care if I looked silly if it saved our lives. Every member of the exploration team was outfitted with a jumpsuit and dust mask to protect us from any environmental health hazards we might face. We were also required to wear head protection at all times in the tunnel. Though it was dark outside, time really had no meaning below ground. Our team was anxious to begin our work, and many of us were familiar with working through odd hours to get what we were after. Therefor we decided to not wait until morning but to start out that very night to explore the tunnel. The man at the back of the group was tasked with hanging mine lights as we went, so that the students could later come behind and examine the tunnels after we had approved them as safe. I let the survival experts take the lead, as they had the best reflexes if dangers were encountered. We were forced to walk in a line, as there was no room to walk side by side.  As we neared the first turn we heard a large amount of noise echo up the tunnel ahead of us. First a sound like shouting, then more inhuman clicking. Finally a great hum punctuated by the previous sounds growing fainter and fainter until at last it blanked out. The silence was now thick, and our group started talking just to make noise. We had stopped walking when the noises had come to listen, but now we continued our descent.
We took plentiful pictures, but we felt that the carving would be better documented and perhaps even copied in person. as we rounded the last turn, I felt unease settle in my stomach. Though I had not counted the turns on my previous trip, I knew that we were fast approaching the chamber I had visited on my previous trip. I think my discomfort was communicated to the other men, as we all stopped talking. The chamber seemed much different than the last time I was there. The biggest difference was the glow, which was almost absent, and not enough to even be seen a few feet away. The silence also made it different. The only sounds came from members of our team as we gathered at the mouth of the chamber, right outside of the tunnel. We tried to examine the chamber from where we were but had little success, as the last of our group moved into the chamber we began setting up lights so that the entire chamber would be well lit. Only after the chamber was lit did our team begin to document it. As the chamber filled with light I forced myself to examine the alter at which so much unholy evil had been present on my previous visit. gathered around the base of the altar was a pile of bleached bones several feet high. The alter was washed clean of any body fluids or flesh. The only thing found on top of the alter was the torso and skull of the unfortunate person I had witnessed being victimized before. I had one of the survival experts bag it to be examined at a lab to see if the dental records matched either my father or one of the men I had lost. Though saddened to find the bones, I was much more relieved that we did not find anything more of the horrors I had witnessed. The many other tunnel mouths were closed up with doors constructed of a metal that I am not familiar with. This metal seemed to be soft and forgiving, but when trying to bend or pry our way past it, it displayed a rigidness unfamiliar to any of us. There appeared to be some sort of lock on each door, and we determined we would attempt to pick or undo the locks at a future point. We set up both conventional and night vision cameras, and set the lights so they could be controlled remotely. We also set up an intercom between the base and this chamber, so if we needed to communicate back and forth we could. At that we decided we would call it a day, that there was much work to be done in unraveling the secrets of what we had found thus far, and that any secrets beyond those doors would keep while we slept. We used our new intercom to communicate that we were headed back up, and upon reaching base camp collapsed into our beds and slept a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4: Comfort

People underestimate the simple things. Small comforts are a simple thing that people take for granted, they forget them until they go without them for a day or two. Only in the void lacking these comforts is the need for them keenly felt. Small comforts are the best coping mechanism available to deal with the pains of this world. Simple comforts include things like a warm drink on a cold night, blankets wrapped around you keeping you snug and warm. The perfect food is sometimes just the thing for sorrow or pain. Good company can lift your spirits, especially when small comforts such as alcohol are shared by all those in the group.

I woke up on a mattress on the floor of the old kitchen in the lodge. The light of the setting sun shone through the house, and several familiar faces gathered as I stirred from my long dreamless sleep. My sister and the professor loomed over my bed, obviously full of questions but worried to ask. They were perhaps even more worried as to what my answer would be. I decided to give them as much information as I could, while leaving out some of the more unpleasant facts. They informed me that I had been asleep in that bed since they brought me upstairs three days ago. I had been covered in bruises from running head on into the walls of the tunnel I had escaped through. The first thing I wanted to hear once I had learned the facts of my recovery was to hear of the other's progress.
The two men versed in survival had the least success, though they did report that they heard noises in the woods that suggested the movement of man sized bodies through they woods, they only found broken twigs and tracks that led to nowhere. They reported that several hours walking they had come across a stream fed by a natural spring  in one of the nearby hills. They said they dared not drink from it even though the water was constantly flowing. The water carried an unnatural color they seemed almost unable to discribe, only that it did not reflect a healthy water supply. They also were unable to describe the smell that, while not strong, was without a doubt of something unpleasant. They reported no fish or frogs in the stream, but of seeing a large black mass float down the stream too fast to even follow by the shoreline. They had been unable to cross the stream as it was too wide with no logs crossing it, though they had followed it as far as they dared.
The two men assigned to search the west wing had some success, though it was only in improving the comfort of our accommodations. They had found a room filled with feather beds and mattresses, all clean and in good enough shape to sleep on. This explained my easier sleep on the much more forgiving surface of a mattress. Other than that they had once again found little to nothing telling of the fate of those we searched for.
Professor Kent proved to have had the most success apart from my adventure in finding clues about the Lodge we stayed in. He had read the logbook from cover to cover several times as he had much time as I recovered. None of them had dared retrace my footsteps until I woke, and they had barred the door to the basement almost immediately after retrieving me.  Professor Kent described for me the true history of the property that had been handed down through my family in the past centuries. It became apparent that I had been deceived when I had been told many times as a child that the property had been uninhabited for the past several hundred years. In fact the land had been only sparsely populated since my ancestor tried to spare his family the dangers in entwining their affairs with the property that had been responsible for a number of mysterious disappearances. It turned out that some members of the family had taken it upon themselves to live on the property in some form for hundreds of years. There had been at one time a gypsy caravan that camped in the woods near the lodge for a number of months through the winter. It was noted in the log that several days before they had planned to pull up and move on every member of the caravan had completely disappeared. What proved even stranger was a number of men in crimson robes who seemed to make some sort of pilgrimage to the land. When asked for reasons behind their interest in the property they simply said that it was a mystical location to their ancestors and they honored the traditions handed down to them. Half a century ago the pilgrimages had tapered off, from several a year to one a decade. Two explanations were offered, and it was assumed that either one or both had occurred.  Either the interest had died down or those interested found another way to find what they were looking for. The book also described a box of keys hidden in an old storage pantry in the cellar. As darkness was quickly approaching and I had not completely retrieved my wits we determined to form a new plan at the new dawn. All my companions were overjoyed to have me back but forced me to agree that no one should explore alone in strange places. They suggested we break down into two teams, one to search the surrounding grounds and the other to continue unlocking the secrets of the cellar. The dinner was the best I could have dreamed of considering. The explorations had turned up some aged wine as well when they had ventured into the cellar to retrieve me, as I could not in the state I was in. The aged wine combined with a hot meal was just the thing to lift my heart and give me hope that we could cope with anything we found, no matter how horrible.
End of chapter 4
Authors note: sorry this chapter is not as long as previous chapters, but some business had to be taken care of before we could move further into the story. More will be up tomorrow

A more clear picture of your author

Hey guys, I thought that today would be as fine a time as any to discuss who I am and what I'm doing here, in case I haven't told you personally. My name is Max Malcolm and pretty much all the work on this blog is mine. My friend Larry Albano lent me some space to post my stories and I am very pleased to see how it's taking off. I haven't been this prolific of a writer in a year or two. For example today I wrote over 4000 words of story between two stories on here. That's not including my releases telling people about it or other side projects I have going. This is a huge step forward, and that I was able to jump back and pull out chapter 3 after more than a day break and losing my flow impresses me.
Speaking of chapter three, it may concern you to know why that story has no name. The story begins with "In the beginning..." and chapter 3 is the latest and most exciting installment yet. I want to name it, I really do, but because any name I try and call it tells you too much about what is yet to come, I have no choice but to have rather bland titles on it. I hope I make up for it in the chapters themselves. My goal is a chapter a day, every day I can do it, until I reach a decent novel length or the story ends.
As for the other projects, that is just for fun. I like writing short sweet little stories that make you feel good, so that's what they are there for. I don't know how often they will appear because it depends entirely on if I am meeting my other goals. For example, after writing chapter 3 I had enough energy to continue over and do a short story, some nights I do, some I dont.
Finally, a note on how the blog works. I've tried to set up the comment system so it can be usable, so please try and communicate with me about the stories themselves on there, also feel free to get in huge long winded discussions on there, our host doesn't seem to have any limits on space so you can chat and discuss the stories to your hearts content. Who knows, I might even join in. Finally I really love it when people say they are going to tell their friends and send them the link. That is the best compliment I can get because that means you enjoyed it enough to want to share. That's what storytelling is really about is sharing a common bond. I do it to share what I can and hope to entertain a little. Someday I might want to publish, but only because i know the result would be more people getting to enjoy what I've written. And on that note, please do tell your kids my short stories, that's supposed to be part of the format. I love telling a story I could tell to anyone, from 2 to 92, so that's the goal of the short stories.
Someday in the future I would like to add illustrations as well, I especially think some of chapter three could have been enhanced with them, but I tried to create the images verbally until I figure out the best way to do that with the blog software. So anyway, thank you so much for reading and watch this space, more exciting stuff coming as soon as I can possibly get it here.

a short tale: Captain Kellog and the lost island

Alright that last chapter really taxed the spooky side of my brain, so I decided to use the other part, you know the same one that created the Lonely King. So now on a lighter note I present a story I call Captain Kellog and the lost island again presented by Mr Max Malcolm.

Not so long ago, but longer than most of you can remember there was a time that the measure of a countries greatness was their power at sea. Being a man meant something different then, and like a country was hardly worth talking about unless they had a powerful navy, a man was hardly a man if he hadn't sailed the seas and explored shores unknown all in the name of his country. During this time the fastest ship usually won, and countries had to compete to be the first to land on new shores and claim them for king and country. This was also the time of privateers and pirates. Being a privateer was a sort of trade off. On one hand you had wonderful chances to make money in a unique and challenging way. Add to that if you were particularly good your king or queen would pin a medal on you and perhaps even grant you a fancy title and land to go with it. On the downside you wouldn't have been very popular with the merchants and navies of other seafaring countries. But that's life for you, you take the good you take the bad you take them all and there you have... Captain Kellog is just such a man as we have been talking about. Some called him a monster, terror of the high seas was his nickname to his enemies. But to the people of his country he was a hero, and mothers told their sons to grow up to be like the great man. He was popular with his men, and women in every port he stopped at tried to pull out all their womanly whiles to try and tempt the great man into being their personal sweetheart. But Captain Kellog was immune to their charms, while he appreciated the acclaim and popularity he wanted to win a woman's heart on his own. He also always told himself that his mistress was the sea, and such a saucy mistress is as much trouble as any man can handle.
This is a story about an above average adventure that changed his life. Captain Kellog was charting his own course out of port. He had a full supply of goods, a happy and well rested crew and the wind was on his side. He sailed southwest out of European influences toward the unknown. About three or four days out to sea the man in the crow's nest spotted clouds on the horizon, and Captain Kellog instructed the helmsman to try to sail around it. This turned out to be little help as the storm was much to large to avoid. They hit the storm several hours later and the sailors fought for their lives and their ship to survive the horrible storm. This was more than just being a man and saving yourself it was keeping your friends save and serving your captain. Captain Kellog's crew were as fine a crew as any captain could hope for. The ship tossed and battled through the waves through the night, several men were swept overboard as the vessel tipped in the waves and rainwater made the deck slick and dangerous. When they finally got free of the storm they found themselves within eyesight of a landmass none of them were familiar with. An island rose out of the frothy ocean like a mirage, and many of the men wondered if this was some sort of trick of their tired minds. Captain Kellog ordered them to  sail closer and to drop anchor so they could assess the damage and try and repair the damage. As he had worried the mast was in no condition to sail, not even to limp towards friendly waters. The determination was made that a new mast must be constructed and that the sails needed some work before they could continue on their voyage. It would be five days before the ship could sail again, and the more time they could give it the better off they would be.
Since only half the men were needed to do the repair work the captain decided that now would be as good a time as any to explore the uncharted island that they had come to. He personally led an expedition ashore to learn more. Upon first glance the island looked as inhospitable as any he had ever seen. On one side steep stone cliffs with rocks around the bottom prevented even their lifeboats from finding safe harbor. As they rowed around the island however they found a hospitable cove with sandy beaches to safely pull their boats up onto the shore. They had not seen any sign of natives from the shore, but that didn't mean by any means that the land was uninhabited. The captain and his crew cut a path through the underbrush, unknowing that they were being watched. They didn't expect the tripwire or net to ensnare them as it did. Even more unexpected was the state of the natives. When the natives came to collect them the captain was shocked to see them fully clothed in finely tailored suits, in bright beautiful fabrics. This was far from what any of them had seen in what they always considered primitive cultures. Even more shocking was the way they spoke, they spoke with as much intelligence as any crewman on their ship. The natives told them that their leader had expected them, and the sailors were now prisoners and should not struggle and they would be treated fairly if they did as they were told. Captain Kellog agreed and they followed the natives through the underbrush until they reached a large clearing and found an english style large dwelling there. They entered into the house and met the leader, a tall white man in a tailored suit as fine as any nobleman. He spoke to them thus: "My name is Gorag, well not actually. It's actually Smith but the natives have taken to calling me  Gorage which means leader to them. I teach them things I know and they made me leader, that seems like a fair trade to me." Well what could captain Kellog do but agree to that? so he did of course. Then Kellog went on to explain their situation, and how their ship was stranded until they got a new mast. Gorag was sympathetic and said he would do what he could to help. Gorag explained that he had become shipwrecked on this island with nothing but his intellect to survive, lucky for him that he was a scholar and knew how to teach the natives how to create beautiful clothing and strong buildings. As Gorag explained this a door opened and in walked the most lovely woman Kellog had ever seen. It almost didn't seem fair to call her a woman she was so beautiful. She wore a simple tightly fitting dress that displayed every bit of her figure. Her skin was practically golden from the sun, and her complexion was flawless. She spoke and it was like music, such music as they had never heard before. She said that she was curious to meet the first visitors they had received in her lifetime. Kellog couldn't keep his eyes off her, and for her part I shouldn't have to explain she didn't mind looking at him either. Gorag was fuming and had been for several minutes before Kellog noticed.  Gorag ordered his men to tie up Kellog and his men and throw them in cages until a fitting punishment could be devised for their disrespect.
Kellog was halfway to the cages before he thought to ask their captors what he had done wrong. The natives informed them that to look on Gorag's daughter Sheela was seen as horrible disrespect by Gorag, especially to look at her like Kellog had been doing. Kellog thought for sure that this was the end. He thought this is no way for a hero to go out, there must be a way out. They might well have been doomed if not for the luck of fate. It just so happens that Sheela had been just as enchanted by Kellog as he was by her. Some people don't believe in love at first sight, but most of those people have never had it happen, or are too jaded to remember what it feels like to be young and in love. They want to remember, but it hurts to much when compared with their present state. Kellog was no such man, he was tough and brave no question, but he was an idealist and believed the best out of people. It was why he got the best out of his men. This quality of his is probably what would save him, as it had many times in the past, but it saved him for different reasons now. Sheela knew from the moment she saw him that she wanted only him for the rest of her life. Like I explained, she was every bit as entranced with him as he was with her. So she devised a plan to free Kellog and his men, and get them free and far from her father. Her plan was fairly simple: she would get her father to drinking his homemade wine which he was known to overdo sometimes, and when he was asleep steal his keys. So she used her clever womanly talents of hospitality and prepared him a fine dinner. As he ate she brought him glass after glass of his strongest wine. Gorag was too busy eating to think about how much he had drunk. Then Sheela got her father to talking about his tales of adventure and of how he got stuck on this island. This was another area that she found herself lucky in, because she found out her father had been building a ship. Unfortunately he was not a perfect shipbuilder, and his ships never would have held up to the long ocean voyages to escape that island. However she talked to him until he dozed off, and carefully removed his keys. She delivered the information she had received to the captain, and offered to free him on one condition. That condition was that he take her with him, and bring her with him on his voyages. He tried to protest that a ship is no place for a woman, but she said that she believed her place was by his side, no matter what. Well Kellog was wise enough to know that you never really win an argument like that so it's pointless to try, so he agreed to her terms. She freed them, and they carefully made their way to the hidden bay her father used as a shipyard. The crew picked out two small masts that could be lashed together to make a sturdy enough replacement mast, and enough sail material to get them back on the ocean immediately. Sadly this was the end of their luck in being sneaky. Gorag's men had found Gorag asleep and known that trickery might be afoot. When they found the cages empty they tracked Sheela and Kellog to the shipyard. They arrived at the shipyard just as Kellog, Sheela and his men began making for the lifeboats to return to ship. They ran after them and a chase ensued. The captain and his crew running through the underbrush with Gorag's men close behind. The crew arrived last at the lifeboats and practically threw the supplies into the boats and rowed like men possessed to get out to the ship and safety. When Gorag's men saw the sailors in their boats they doubled back to the shipyard and took the best boat they could find to try and board Kellog's ship. This is where the sailor's luck took a turn for the better again. Because they were better in their mastery of boats they reached the ship half an hour before the natives could have. This gave them just enough time to lash the masts together and get the sails prepared. They hauled anchor just as the natives pulled alongside. This was a chase they knew they could win, and they did. Kellog and Sheela became married and she became his first mate, as well as his mate for life which has a kind of symmetry to it. Kellog's fear of having a woman aboard eventually proved completely unfounded and he found her to be not only pleasant company but as hard a worker and as good a sailor as any of his men. She became a legend in her own right as a matter of fact, but that, alas, is another story.  

chapter 3

 Authors note: I have just reread this chapter so I feel it is only fair to warn you that this is the most intense chapter thus far, and contains some of the most intense imagery and raw terror as I can render. I have done my best to make it possible to stand, but I am not responsible for any nightmares you may have on reading this. This is just a taste of what this story is really about, I've been building to some of the stuff in this chapter since I started so I'm glad to see some of it happening. anyway on with the show, keep reading and I'll keep writing
Hubris is a dangerous byproduct of success.  Pride in your own success can build in you a sort of false bravado, a feeling that you can take on anything and are unable to be harmed, perhaps even immortal. Many great men from gladiators to emperors have been struck down by an overconfident sort of hubris.  Most religions and philosophies try to remove this  malady by trying to remove pride, perhaps even considering it a sin. This does not work as taking pride in your success is a natural human emotion, and no amount of shame at your supposed sin can truly stop this in the end. Another strategy that has seen more success is to surround yourself with people capable of reminding you of your human frailty, and failings. The flaw in this is that human groups are just as capable of falling into a state of overconfidence in their group accomplishments, which often leads to miscalculating the dangers present and becoming another causality of hubris.

As I woke in such a strange location, I saw nothing. Once again I heard nothing, not even breathing of my companions. I groped in the dark, searching for a light to check the room around me. I don't know how long I groped in the dark, disoriented in the strange room. What I do know is that by the time I found the lantern and matches to light it my heart beat in my chest like a snare drummer beating time and my movements had become trembling in the cold dark, and I had to spend a moment warming myself by the flame of the lantern before I could check the room.
I felt a great amount of relief to find all of my companions sleeping quietly, unplagued by the uneasy kind of sleep I had experienced. In my mind I imagined the amount of noise I must have made as I tossed and turned trying to find a peaceful state of repose. I sat up with my back to the wall, leaving the lantern aglow on it's lowest setting. I found it restful to plan out our team's plan for the day. I decided to send the surveyors into the west wing of the lodge, I felt no need to accompany them as they could reach me or any of the other members of the team by walkie talkie. The professor, Dr Kent, I desired to spend time studying the logbook he had come across, as it may hold clues to unlocking the doors they had found so far and perhaps cast more light upon the mysterious structure. For the two survival experts I decided to send them out into the surrounding land, as knowing the land was what they were best at. They should still report in and return to our base of operations at the end of the day as I did not find it practical to have them camp and waste daylight hours setting up a structure. Finally I set for myself to explore the cellar and pantries under the great lodge. I had an attitude of efficiency and applying our resources as best as possible. My sister would best be at use in this kitchen, receiving and recording reports from the field.
As I finished deciding these things my companions began to stir, and we decided based on our watches that we could open the doors and have more natural light as we took care of our bodies needs and prepared for our tasks. We gathered together for a hearty breakfast, or as hearty as can be had on limited supplies. The planning was done over breakfast to take the best advantage of the daylight hours ahead. I was pleased to see that each person took to their task well and was excited to begin on their task for the day. I told the professor we would discuss what he learned when I returned, and that he was to stay within sight with my sister. Every man was made to understand to report any danger encountered so that those nearby could drop what we were doing and come to their aid. Having provided my team with their instructions I set about my job for the day, namely the lower floor. The stairwell to access the cellar was close to our base in the kitchen. The door seemed a tighter fit than most, and when it did finally swing ajar a draft of stale air  flowed out, pulled by me breaking the seal and equalizing the pressure. A thick dust coated the stone steps down into the darkness. In the dust I saw several sets of footprints. I lit a lantern and descended the steps, trying as best as I could to leave the footprints undisturbed. as I reached the bottom of the steps and proceeded to try and gaze through the darkness, perhaps see a wall or something to guide myself by. In every direction I saw great stone columns supporting even greater stone arches. The arches reached so high that I could not reach and touch any part of them, the ceiling was out of my sight. Unlike most cellars this one appeared to be much more spacious, and far from  being cramped it was eerie in it's spaciousness and silence. The footsteps I had followed to the bottom of the stairs proceeded ahead of me to the north, so with a lack of other clues I decided to explore in that direction first. Several feet on,  as I lost sight of the stairwell, the footprints gave way to a wide path, made by something being dragged across a floor thick with the dust of time. I was ill at ease with this discovery, and I wondered if I was soon to find the fate of my missing companions from my first attempt. As i reached the wall I found the shape of a door engraved on the wall. Both inside and surrounding this shape were numerous carvings, almost like a system of hieroglyphics or runes. The carvings seemed to be untouched by time and painted with some sort of reflective or luminescent paint as they seemed to glow with a brownish green sort of light all their own. The most noticeable  carving of all was 4 feet tall by a foot and a half wide at the widest. It was perfectly centered in the door shape and glowed with a gold hue unique to this carving. Curiosity took hold and I set down my lantern and reached out to explore the large symbol with my fingers. The symbol consisted of a wide circle at the top, joined to a similar circle at the bottom by a straight line the same length as the circle is wide, then the line is crossed twice by line segments that extend to be even with the edges of the circles. I traced the edges with my fingers and  I heard a whispered sound, not quite human or mechanical, it seemed to say "Sekhmet." A low hum began beneath my feat, followed by a mechanical thumping that seemed to come from behind the wall, if that's possible. The thrumming and thumping set the dust in the basement into the air, becoming like a mist or smoke. The symbols shone brighter, shining and defusing into the dust creating a spiritual and mystic feeling in the room. My curiosity at this point reached it's apex, far outshining any fear that had gripped me before. A crack formed at the floor and the lines of the doorway became cracks as well. The stone doorway then quickly pulled back and slid to the side, opening a passageway. The passageway, far from being dusty like the cellar in which I stood was completely clean of any dust. If it wasn't for the style of construction and my own knowledge I could have sworn that it had been chiseled from the rock recently. My desire to unlock the mysteries from this mysterious new passage caused me to ignore the dangers and not even inform anyone of these new developments. I took my lamp and walked down the long narrow tunnel. At the mouth of the tunnel the carvings were sparsely covering the wall, perhaps a marking every six inches. As I got deeper into the passage the carvings got closer together and more numerous. Oh the stories that must have been told in those walls, if only I had the knowledge to unlock them. I  knew though there would be time for that later, for the moment I must investigate the source of the footprints and perhaps find answers to some of my questions.  The tunnel gently sloped downwards, which only eased my descent.  There is no telling how far I walked, it could have been a few hundred feet, it could have been miles, I did not count paces. Every once and awhile the tunnel would turn almost back on itself and go in the opposite direction, running parallel to the higher tunnel.   What I remember, or what I cannot  forget is reaching a wider chamber, circular and lit by the carvings on the walls, floor and even the ceiling. This was the densest the carvings had ever been, only millimeters apart and tiny and numerous. Thousands of pages could have been filled with all the markings on the walls of this chamber. It appeared to be a nexus for five other tunnels going in all directions.  The other tunnels were kept shut with metal doors cast out of a metal that I am not familiar with, it seemed to be etched with carvings as were the walls. I was so distracted by the walls and tunnels I didn't notice the center of the chamber for some time. I stood there marveling at the wonder of this chamber, so far down and far from where I had started. As I stepped into the great chamber a low hum began low, then got higher, punctuated by a clicking noise reminiscent of the dream I had received on my first night in the lodge. The carvings' glow changed colors, going from a greenish brown to brown to red as I approached the center of the chamber. The center of the chamber was the only exception to the carvings, a circle at least a hundred feet wide consisted of completely smooth stone. Chiseled from the living rock was a large alter. That alter, when that alter received the light from my lantern I screamed. The clicking got louder, and I swear I heard an inhuman howl of laughter echoing off the walls of that cavernous chamber as a cold wind came from every side of me, enhancing the shaking I was already doing. I tried my walkie talkie and all i heard was static. My lantern was out, I tossed it aside and ran. As I fled the horrors that filled my mind, the sounds from that chamber echoed up the tunnel behind me. I don't know how I got back to the surface through those dark and winding tunnels. I must have beat myself senseless on the walls of the tunnel on my way back up. My companions heard my shrieking as I finally collapsed on the steps back up to the lodge. They found me shaking, crying and shrieking in horror because of what I saw and heard in that chamber. I saw, a human corpse, mangled beyond recognition. It's blood still dripped over that unholy alter, and standing above it, if you can call it standing, I saw a figure naked and craven. The figure stood on two legs like a man but on it's face was an expression so horrible my blood ran cold. It's eyes shone with an unholy light of it's own. It's hands, it's monstrous dripping hands above the corpse it had been at some sort of horrid awful work at. I thank my luck that I screamed and lost my light, because the sounds that followed told me I was lucky not to see. I cannot even describe the sounds coming from the alter, only that when the horrible laughing drowned it out I believe that is ALL that protected my sanity from the twisted mangling of that mad horrible man shaped abomination deep in that awful chamber of horrors. I tried to tell my companions of my tale, but I passed out cold in the arms of my sister, and knew no more that day.