A Nightmare Reborn
Prologue Part 3
As I gazed upon the mountains, I realized that the climb may take awhile to reach the mines. The empty train station had brought me into a very small village with only one shop to speak of. As I made my way to the shop, I noticed that a few villagers were looking at me with a type of stare that every outsider gets. When I made it to the rickety building that housed the general store, I found an old lady who was standing behind what looked like an old cash register that lacked power. The woman smiled at me, revealing that most of her teeth were missing. She asked, in a sharp, raspy voice,
"You aren't from around here, sonny?”
Her hair still maintained some of its former color, and her complexion was that of a forgotten porcelain doll. I returned her former smile, and answered,
"Yes...I'm from Buffalo."
Her mouth formed an "oh" and her interest in me became focused. She asked,
"Why are you here, dear?"
I removed Sam's letter from my parcel, and placed it on her desk. She slowly removed her glasses from the shelf behind her, and studied the letter. After she had concluded her examination of Sam's letter, she said, in the most dire of manners,
"If you are to find him, you may die."
I sighed, as I had became tired of the tales that tell of this mine that lies within the Catskill stronghold. I asked the shopkeeper, not wishing to entertain her notions,
"How can I get to the mine?"
She smiled, as if my bravado had left her in rapture. She pulled out a flask, a bottle of gin, and a map. She then said, humorously,
"You'll need to pay me for these."
I became intrigued at the salesmanship of my old stewart. I asked her,
"Why the booze?"
She laughed, it resembling a deranged witch's cackle. She said after her spell, her tone low and dry,
"Only a drunken fool would enter that abominable place."
She resumed her mocking cackle, and I gave her a single twenty, in which she accepted, gladly. Before leaving, she placed another bottle on the table, this one an unlabeled one, its contents appearing to be a type whiskey. She said, continuing to taunt me as I grabbed up the items she had presented to me,
"This drink is on the house, stranger! It may be your last!"
Needless to say I was happy to escape the little unnamed shop. Night will fall soon, and I was more than ready to leave this small, seemingly delusional hamlet behind. As I made my way towards the mountain trail, I placed my belongings in a sack which I can easily fashion into a backpack. When the stars finally began to shine in the overhanging sky, I realized that I had just barely reached the trail. Not one soul breathed here, and I couldn't help but notice the creeping feeling of loneliness aside me. I thought of my life, and realized that I had never taken a mate for one reason, and that was because of my rigidness. I have always been married to my work, and now as my age prolongs, I know that I have reached my own twilight period. As my own life has stricken past the midnight hour, I sought some light for my own path, using a match to light my lantern that I had brought back home. Everyone says I will not return from this place. I believe them not to be wrong, but more well wishers with no hope. Is hope a latent trait that resides amongst my own heart? If it did, then maybe I would not be here. No, hush, toiling mind, let the nays be silenced. A job is a job, and I have came here seeking money, not a spiritual evolution. Whether I save Sam or not, I will do my job to the best of my nature, as my own attitude has given me a living in what meger portions I may have from the dinner table. This mountain path may already be twisting and winding, but my intentions will not waver. Winning bread is just that, not a venture into morality or the accursed vessel we call the human psyche. Let madness not take me yet, not now, not until I am truly alone. The sky stares at me, watching me as if it is the dark beast that plays with the recesses of my very own human mind. May you be gone, dark skies, may you not cloud my lit torch as I climb this fabled land of infamy. Once more, be gone.
Prologue Part 3
As I gazed upon the mountains, I realized that the climb may take awhile to reach the mines. The empty train station had brought me into a very small village with only one shop to speak of. As I made my way to the shop, I noticed that a few villagers were looking at me with a type of stare that every outsider gets. When I made it to the rickety building that housed the general store, I found an old lady who was standing behind what looked like an old cash register that lacked power. The woman smiled at me, revealing that most of her teeth were missing. She asked, in a sharp, raspy voice,
"You aren't from around here, sonny?”
Her hair still maintained some of its former color, and her complexion was that of a forgotten porcelain doll. I returned her former smile, and answered,
"Yes...I'm from Buffalo."
Her mouth formed an "oh" and her interest in me became focused. She asked,
"Why are you here, dear?"
I removed Sam's letter from my parcel, and placed it on her desk. She slowly removed her glasses from the shelf behind her, and studied the letter. After she had concluded her examination of Sam's letter, she said, in the most dire of manners,
"If you are to find him, you may die."
I sighed, as I had became tired of the tales that tell of this mine that lies within the Catskill stronghold. I asked the shopkeeper, not wishing to entertain her notions,
"How can I get to the mine?"
She smiled, as if my bravado had left her in rapture. She pulled out a flask, a bottle of gin, and a map. She then said, humorously,
"You'll need to pay me for these."
I became intrigued at the salesmanship of my old stewart. I asked her,
"Why the booze?"
She laughed, it resembling a deranged witch's cackle. She said after her spell, her tone low and dry,
"Only a drunken fool would enter that abominable place."
She resumed her mocking cackle, and I gave her a single twenty, in which she accepted, gladly. Before leaving, she placed another bottle on the table, this one an unlabeled one, its contents appearing to be a type whiskey. She said, continuing to taunt me as I grabbed up the items she had presented to me,
"This drink is on the house, stranger! It may be your last!"
Needless to say I was happy to escape the little unnamed shop. Night will fall soon, and I was more than ready to leave this small, seemingly delusional hamlet behind. As I made my way towards the mountain trail, I placed my belongings in a sack which I can easily fashion into a backpack. When the stars finally began to shine in the overhanging sky, I realized that I had just barely reached the trail. Not one soul breathed here, and I couldn't help but notice the creeping feeling of loneliness aside me. I thought of my life, and realized that I had never taken a mate for one reason, and that was because of my rigidness. I have always been married to my work, and now as my age prolongs, I know that I have reached my own twilight period. As my own life has stricken past the midnight hour, I sought some light for my own path, using a match to light my lantern that I had brought back home. Everyone says I will not return from this place. I believe them not to be wrong, but more well wishers with no hope. Is hope a latent trait that resides amongst my own heart? If it did, then maybe I would not be here. No, hush, toiling mind, let the nays be silenced. A job is a job, and I have came here seeking money, not a spiritual evolution. Whether I save Sam or not, I will do my job to the best of my nature, as my own attitude has given me a living in what meger portions I may have from the dinner table. This mountain path may already be twisting and winding, but my intentions will not waver. Winning bread is just that, not a venture into morality or the accursed vessel we call the human psyche. Let madness not take me yet, not now, not until I am truly alone. The sky stares at me, watching me as if it is the dark beast that plays with the recesses of my very own human mind. May you be gone, dark skies, may you not cloud my lit torch as I climb this fabled land of infamy. Once more, be gone.
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