Mapping the Veil - Part 1

The air swelters in the lobby of the Summerset Retreat nursing home. In a blurry-eyed reverie, Richard barely notices the radiator’s heating coils digging into his spine. It’s only at the sound of Jeremy's voice that his conscious mind snaps back like a rubber band. Bolts fall into place; mechanisms click; gears spin.

"Richard,” repeats Jeremy. “Did you draw this?"

A map of Boston is spread out before him. Bold lines trace out the Charles River on creased and torn yellowed paper. Major highways, the life-bringing conduits of the city, are color coded in red and blue.

It only takes one glance to realize the map is inaccurate by any cartographic standards. Though the gridlines precisely divide the landscape, the actual geography is badly deformed. Some streets and neighborhoods bulge outward like inflamed pustules. Factories and warehouses distort and twist as though all polarized toward Boston Harbor. A faint, unreadable legend lies just above the map’s scale bar, which curves onto itself to form a perfect circle. A faint signature can be seen in the bottom right, hugging a frayed corner.

"Ahh," croaks Richard, running a fleshy hand over the signature. "It's been years."

"I found it in Grandma's things, after the funeral,” says Jeremy.

A smile creeps across his grandfather’s lips."Keep it," he says, pressing the map into Jeremy’s hand. The boy protests.

“Take it!” Richard orders. Sweat drips down his brow, carried away by the crevices in his skin. He jabs a gnarled finger at the parchment. The landscape swirls around the spot, as though drawn in toward a vortex. Richard’s eyes are wide; an inner conviction long latent is stirring. "You didn’t hear this from me, Jeremy, but that's where Veil unfurls.”