A Welcome into Darkness

Searching the Darkness

Through the corridors he walked, tip toeing at first then becoming grandiose in large footsteps. The heavy boots made an imprint on the mud puddles that kept their rounded shape. A dust jacket scraped the sides of the innards of the dank tunnel leaving just little scrapes of trickled moisture. A brimmed hat held his hair back from falling in his face as he lifted up the lantern to light the path ahead of him. Somewhere, in these crisscrossing labyrinths there laid his inevitable target.

Sounds were dead silent as his footsteps made a faint utterance. Hearing up ahead what sounded like snoring immediately turned into a snarl. This had been one of its lairs, he knew it pulsating in his forearms. The stretch of wrinkled lines etched on his forehead. The lantern swayed momentarily as his hiking strides became more profound. From his waist he drew out the kukri, the one thing that had become some sort of talisman in the darkness. The glow of the light glinted off the blade as it came close to his chest as he drew it close to his heart. The pounding almost sweating pacing of his heart.

Looking upwards he saw a grate, and the moon blinded his vision. How beautiful yet haunting it remained perfectly coalesced in the sky. Its damning fair danced in the pools of water and mud underneath his feet. The feeling of despair rang aloud as the snarling echoes passed him in indiscrete rhythms. It reminded him of the howling beast from before, the one that appeared to be a man but resembled a wolf. Had walked on two legs like a man, but flew and glided like a hellish bat. Had two eyes but glared as if hell fire summoned its rectifying presence.

He had come this way when he approached the city limits. From witnessing what occurred on his homestead prompted him to make a run from what he used to know. He left the people and things he loved the most, only bringing bladed weapons and survival gear along with him. He peered inside the darkness that haunted him, and it took the loving embrace of all his family members. To escape had been foretold, and to run was his only solace in this world, it was the only thing that made sense.

The creature never returned nor did it follow him. George made sure to cover all tracks, those leading away from his homestead and out into the countryside. For many days that led into weeks, he suffered the harshness of the elements. First the last days of winter remained on the landscape that gave way to spring's flowers and lush fields. This made his venture easier giving to brisk brooks and easy flowing rivers. The grass edged upwards and sprung life but night still held a darkening touch. Never knowing if the creature, for whatever it had been, would be behind him by miles or on top of his course through towering trees.

The city limits had been a sight to behold, George grunted at the thought preferring the openness that farming had brought him. Little by little towns began to spring up around him, a common village holding some semblance of civilization. And the scenery had changed from dirt roads to rocky terrain to cobblestone streets. The buildings became fancier and heartier in nature. Tipping his brow to regular passerby's he knew his adventure took him to places only his brother Ryan called "Western civilization at its best." And for once George could not argue. All the amenities that it afforded had been tailored to its finest inheritances. All the inns he had slept in were built and made to be comfortable, the sheets perfectly cleaned twice daily, the home meals for breakfast and lunch were plentiful never meager in proportions, and the décor was close to being regent borderline spectacular.

The houses became less scattered, less independent, and formed townships that centered in around central causes, to live freely and openly as this new world intended. The bustle of children would sometimes run pass his steed and a smile came to George's face. To be a child and care free was something he lost a long time ago. The face of his mother and sister plagued his mind at times, in the warmness of day and dampness at night. The way their lives were taken haunted his memories, and he plunged those restless demons down deep. It gave him the semblance of a broken man, but objectively they were only memories. They garnered strength in the deep recesses of courage and honor. It would never halt his journey, to find out what had plagued his family. What made the Injuns scatter before the creature had befallen his home and his family is what drove George to peer into the darkness of other totems.