And here's the second chapter. In the previous chapter's commentary I used the phrase "as time and caprice allow" to describe my intended conversion schedule, but I don't want to let it sit on the back burner for too long, do I?
Please enjoy!
A Blueberry and Her Greenery
2 – Agony of Light
From inside the cave, he stares out. Its walls protect him from the hail, and wind, but rain pours through fissures in the ceiling, and blows intermittently in from the entrance. The broken stone curves overhead, too low to permit him to stand, so he squats amidst the mud and tries to think. Aren't caves a bad place to be in thunderstorms? Something about lightning leaping the gaps? He isn't sure.
Beyond the mouth, the storm howls its fury, and lashes out with searing tongues of incandescent plasma. He turns his head back to the cave, and tries too see beyond the lingering afterimages. It's narrow, but extends back to unseen depths like the throat of some mineral colossus. He could go deeper, but hesitates; that would save him from the lightning, and be drier too, but if there is anything else in here, it'd be unwise to provoke it by getting closer.
Another bolt lands nearby, its strobe invading the dark recesses of the cave.
A bit, just a little bit, reflects back.
Instantly, he freezes, peering intently in the blackness. Whatever he saw, is gone, lost in the deep gloom left in light's sudden absence. He waits, motionless as his sight gradually returns, and there, on the very edge of the darkness: a jewel.
“No way.” He whispers despite himself.
Slowly, he creeps toward it, his eyes darting between the unseen back of the cave, and the glimmering, petrified spark. As he gets closer his eyes resolve it more clearly: thumb-sized; a deep, translucent red; expertly cut and polished, and sitting right in the middle of the damp stone.
He holds it up, and wipes away the rain drops, marveling at the way its facets snare and set to dancing even the wan light bleeding in from the mouth.
Lightning strikes, and his jaw drops. There's another one, just a bit further in. Pale green, equally flawless, and nearly as big. And there, a deep blue glint in the shadows, and there, and there... Without thinking he stuffs them in to his pockets, one after the other, each resting a step or two beyond the one before.
Another bolt of lightning lands. It doesn't seem so close. In fact, he didn't even hear it; only its attenuated flash told him it had struck at all. He turns back toward the mouth of the cave, now surprisingly distant: a dull gray splotch surrounded by nothingness. He looks forward: blackness. Not merely the absence of light, but a darkness so complete it seems material. The air is different too, not the fresh rainy-ozone of a thunderstorm, but still, and dusty; the colossus' respiration.
Yet the jewels continue on; little sparks of light laying one after the other. A trail of winking eyes beckoning him to follow. To go deeper.
Suddenly an image springs to his mind. A memory? On a boat with his grandfather, throwing ladles of blood and rotten meat in the ocean. Each time they came to do it, it was always in the same place among the islands. His grandfather explaining that by making the fish accustomed to feedings, they would always return, and he would have an easy place to catch dinner.
The fish, being pulled from the sea, their bellies opened, and bowels swiftly torn out, then hurled back to lure more .
A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature sends involuntary shudders up and down his spine. He takes a step backward, then another, silently cursing as his feet scuff the living rock.
A noise reaches out from the shadows: a scratching, like fingernails on stone, synchronized with his steps, and so very, very faint he can't be sure he hears it at all. Is it just his imagination? He doesn't know, neither does he care. Something's there. He doesn't need to hear it, he can feel it; the abyss is staring back.
A new odor reaches him: rotting meat and unwashed fur. His eyes catch the faintest hint of movement: black shadows hiding blacker shapes. Fear and dread surge over him like a wave. The urge to run is all-consuming.
GET OUT NOW!
The gems slip from his fingers and tinkle off the cave's floor as he turns. The scratching sound rises over them, louder and closer than before: not fingernails, he realizes. Claws, scrabbling for purchase. Terror takes him, and he breaks in to a full, panic-fueled sprint.
One stride.
Adrenaline cuts through the mental fog of hunger and fatigue like a chemical razor. What was I thinking?! How could I have fallen for such an obvious trap?!
Two.
The mouth of the cave captures his sight, and his mind. Suddenly, its faint glow seems to shine in incredible radiance, taking on all the biblical connotations he had ever heard. The light, the blessed sanctuary of light! He must reach it!
Three.
A silent scream is knocked from his lungs as something hits him from behind. He sprawls over the hard, uneven floor, trying desperately to recover his footing. Great, clawed arms covered in filthy, knotted fur throw him back down. He kicks out wildly; blind, and unable to breathe, but it's no use. Unseen, reeking bodies press him to the rock and quickly bind him in coarse rope. Something wet, clingy and noxious is forced over his head.
Laughter like nothing from a human throat echoes through the cave, and then, mercifully: oblivion.
Please enjoy!
A Blueberry and Her Greenery
2 – Agony of Light
From inside the cave, he stares out. Its walls protect him from the hail, and wind, but rain pours through fissures in the ceiling, and blows intermittently in from the entrance. The broken stone curves overhead, too low to permit him to stand, so he squats amidst the mud and tries to think. Aren't caves a bad place to be in thunderstorms? Something about lightning leaping the gaps? He isn't sure.
Beyond the mouth, the storm howls its fury, and lashes out with searing tongues of incandescent plasma. He turns his head back to the cave, and tries too see beyond the lingering afterimages. It's narrow, but extends back to unseen depths like the throat of some mineral colossus. He could go deeper, but hesitates; that would save him from the lightning, and be drier too, but if there is anything else in here, it'd be unwise to provoke it by getting closer.
Another bolt lands nearby, its strobe invading the dark recesses of the cave.
A bit, just a little bit, reflects back.
Instantly, he freezes, peering intently in the blackness. Whatever he saw, is gone, lost in the deep gloom left in light's sudden absence. He waits, motionless as his sight gradually returns, and there, on the very edge of the darkness: a jewel.
“No way.” He whispers despite himself.
Slowly, he creeps toward it, his eyes darting between the unseen back of the cave, and the glimmering, petrified spark. As he gets closer his eyes resolve it more clearly: thumb-sized; a deep, translucent red; expertly cut and polished, and sitting right in the middle of the damp stone.
He holds it up, and wipes away the rain drops, marveling at the way its facets snare and set to dancing even the wan light bleeding in from the mouth.
Lightning strikes, and his jaw drops. There's another one, just a bit further in. Pale green, equally flawless, and nearly as big. And there, a deep blue glint in the shadows, and there, and there... Without thinking he stuffs them in to his pockets, one after the other, each resting a step or two beyond the one before.
Another bolt of lightning lands. It doesn't seem so close. In fact, he didn't even hear it; only its attenuated flash told him it had struck at all. He turns back toward the mouth of the cave, now surprisingly distant: a dull gray splotch surrounded by nothingness. He looks forward: blackness. Not merely the absence of light, but a darkness so complete it seems material. The air is different too, not the fresh rainy-ozone of a thunderstorm, but still, and dusty; the colossus' respiration.
Yet the jewels continue on; little sparks of light laying one after the other. A trail of winking eyes beckoning him to follow. To go deeper.
Suddenly an image springs to his mind. A memory? On a boat with his grandfather, throwing ladles of blood and rotten meat in the ocean. Each time they came to do it, it was always in the same place among the islands. His grandfather explaining that by making the fish accustomed to feedings, they would always return, and he would have an easy place to catch dinner.
The fish, being pulled from the sea, their bellies opened, and bowels swiftly torn out, then hurled back to lure more .
A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature sends involuntary shudders up and down his spine. He takes a step backward, then another, silently cursing as his feet scuff the living rock.
A noise reaches out from the shadows: a scratching, like fingernails on stone, synchronized with his steps, and so very, very faint he can't be sure he hears it at all. Is it just his imagination? He doesn't know, neither does he care. Something's there. He doesn't need to hear it, he can feel it; the abyss is staring back.
A new odor reaches him: rotting meat and unwashed fur. His eyes catch the faintest hint of movement: black shadows hiding blacker shapes. Fear and dread surge over him like a wave. The urge to run is all-consuming.
GET OUT NOW!
The gems slip from his fingers and tinkle off the cave's floor as he turns. The scratching sound rises over them, louder and closer than before: not fingernails, he realizes. Claws, scrabbling for purchase. Terror takes him, and he breaks in to a full, panic-fueled sprint.
One stride.
Adrenaline cuts through the mental fog of hunger and fatigue like a chemical razor. What was I thinking?! How could I have fallen for such an obvious trap?!
Two.
The mouth of the cave captures his sight, and his mind. Suddenly, its faint glow seems to shine in incredible radiance, taking on all the biblical connotations he had ever heard. The light, the blessed sanctuary of light! He must reach it!
Three.
A silent scream is knocked from his lungs as something hits him from behind. He sprawls over the hard, uneven floor, trying desperately to recover his footing. Great, clawed arms covered in filthy, knotted fur throw him back down. He kicks out wildly; blind, and unable to breathe, but it's no use. Unseen, reeking bodies press him to the rock and quickly bind him in coarse rope. Something wet, clingy and noxious is forced over his head.
Laughter like nothing from a human throat echoes through the cave, and then, mercifully: oblivion.
Don't hesitate to AM(A)A
The bigger you build the bonfire, the more darkness is revealed.
Every possession and every happiness is but lent by chance for an uncertain time, and may therefore be demanded back the next hour.
The bigger you build the bonfire, the more darkness is revealed.
Every possession and every happiness is but lent by chance for an uncertain time, and may therefore be demanded back the next hour.