The Unknown...

THE UNKNOWN

         Just outside of my small precinct, not far from whence I bide, is a large pasture that yields nothing but uncut weeds. Waist high and waving in the wind, the tall grass resembles a rolling green ocean if viewed from hard by. At the far end of this pasture is a tall hill that approximates a mountain, as it contrasts with the surrounding landscape that surrounds this smooth region. And at the base of that hill is a cave, which is more of a mouth, and the hill appears to be in the act of a perpetual yawn. The townsfolk here say that the cave is haunted, that people have seen things unimaginable to the eyes of humans, and it is only of that much description that they will allow.

         That is from the ones who have come out of that cave.

         The ones who have managed to return.

         In the few short years I have lodged here, stories abound of little ones investigating the cave, their insatiable curiosity having gotten the best of them. I suppose — no — I know, that sometimes the minds of youth haven’t the fear to override their inquisitiveness, which at times can lead to peril, and in others, their fate. But of what that fate might have been, or what it may be, the villagers seem not to know.

         And so it was on a day not long ago my own curiosity prodded me to investigate this equivocal phenomenon. Up until that day I was not one of a superstitious mind, not surrendering to the ideas of ghosts, nor monsters, or, as the townsfolk say, the unimaginable. That there is an explanation for everything, that no such mysteries could exist was my belief, and so I dared to venture across that green ocean and up to that chasm which looked so much like a mouth.

         Let it be known that what I shall speak of henceforth is nothing less than the truth of what I encountered on that warm summer morn.

         As I first approached the mountain, the mouth seemed to exhale a sudden breath of cold air, wretched in smell, of a stink I knew not. My only comparison would be that of rancid meat and sour apples, with an underlying scent of cinnamon trying vainly to mask its companions. But as I traveled further, a scent of suede leather, much to my relief, almost immediately replaced that foul odor.

         After lighting my torch, I proceeded deeper into the dank hollow, wondering what, if any, unusual apparitions I might happen upon.

         Not long after I’d passed from the first chamber to the next, a soft but distinct sound arose from somewhere ahead. I shone my light at where I believed the noise had come from, but there was nothing to be seen save for a rodent of immense size scurrying about the soft earthen floor. But that wasn’t what had made the noise, and no sooner had I come to this realization did I hear another noise off to my right. I quickly turned my torch in that direction, only to view a sweat covered wall with patches of hairy green lichen firmly attached.

         “Hello,” I inquired of the darkness, but the only response I received was my own lonely echo. I tried once again, and was answered the same.

         It is at this point of my narrative that I must admit to a feeling of unease, but that wasn’t going to stop me from further exploration. My beliefs notwithstanding, I continued on.

         Shortly thereafter, I came to a turn and entered a chamber of cathedral proportions, the size of which my torch could not completely illuminate. It was from there that I believed my voice had returned, as no other passages were visible in the great room. Numerous calcifications stretched from above, trying to meet their brethren that reached from below, and a few of the vermin I mentioned before sought shelter from the light of my torch. With a sense of finality and somewhat disappointment, I believed this to be the end of my journey, and so turned to retrace my path out of the cave. But as I took my first step, my attention was captured by a quick moving shadow that passed from the corner of my eye.

         My original thought was that this was a rodent still seeking shelter from the light, but the size of the specter did not substantiate such a notion. Though my diffidence returned, I was still bound to this odyssey, and therefore I repeated my earlier intonation. But just as soon as the words had escaped my lips, my arm was suddenly seized in a strong bony grip by Something

         something

         Startled, I immediately tried to wrest my arm free, while at the same time I wheeled around to see who would do such a thing. To my horror, I saw no sign of my assailant, but the invisible grip remained true. My next instinct was to deliver a blow at the vicinity of where I thought a face may have been, and was little relieved when it was met with no resistance. However, my arm was released, and I quickly retreated a few steps from the unseen Something

        something