Terrific Things

A Bewitching Journey

The remainder of the day drifted by in a haze as Janus passed the hours inside, reading, writing, and simply looking off into the distance and his mind. Outside of the warm hotel room, a thin mist had settled over the city in the wake of the storm, damp air touching over soaked soil and making everything smell of the clean rains. Petrichor and ozone served only to further shove the locale into the uncanny rift between the mountains. Late into the night, as the stars and moons rose to shine pale light through fog-filled air, sleep eluded Janus. He latched onto it many a time, clutched at the coattails, but was always kicked savagely away.

So he lied in the darkened room, upon soft mattress but not resting. Words and faces and boarded up places crowded through his head, dancing, twirling, shifting, and prodding him awake whenever he ignored them for too long. "They're on you. They're in you. I can see the ship behind your eyes..." The man took his turn to echo back to Janus, giving no answers and only more questions, questions, questions each time. Who were the "they"? Why did the man dare to play a game of pronouns instead of giving the nebulous and undefined "they" a name or title? This entire trip had been only a few select things to him so far, and none of them were what he sought. Fright, confusion, and unease plagued his footsteps. The thoughts continued their march for well over an hour more, but were then banished by the need for sleep.

The next day was one of bright skies and lax winds, not at all like the thunder that had echoed out from black clouds the day before. The citizens were the same as always, reclusive, strange, and unwelcoming. The mountains continued their gargoyle watch over the valley, boulders and caves staring out like sad and accusatory eyes.  The valley and the city cradled within it didn't change with the passage of the night. Janus considered his options for the day, what could be done to combat the boredom and sense of the uncanny that seemed to blanket the town, seeping into the minds and hearts of all who entered into its grasp. He remembered Petra's request: Meet by the clock tower at nine, journey into the caves. Perhaps that would distract him, provide a way to ignore the atmosphere that settled over this place. In that moment, it was decided. He would go to the tower and foray below the great mountains of varied stone, burrow down into the earth, burying himself and his insecurity. 

With that thought close at hand and the time slipping ever nearer to nine, he set off towards the monument to time: the clock tower. He trudged through the streets once more, keeping his stride quick and long to evade the glares that were once more thrown his way. Finally, after the labyrinth of the city, he set his feet up the hill to the tower. The grass was still damp from the  last day's rain, holding just enough water to soak through his shoes as he went. The clock tower itself loomed ahead, blood red stone covered in dying ivy bathed in day light and a cracked clock face ticking away, stalwart in its duty despite the damage. 

At its base, Petra leaned against the wall, multiple backpacks placed at her feet as she scribbled at a truly stunning pace in her notebook. At the sound of his feet, she turned her head to face him, the motion smooth and controlled. "You came! Lovely, I'd have hated to think I'd carried all of this up here for nothing. The red bags are yours, green are mine. I've packed every thing that we'll need, 'far as I can think of. Theres rope, notebooks, cameras, provisions, water, and some caffeine and vitamin tablets in there. Who knows, we might get stuck in there longer than anticipated. So, this should prove interesting! Unexplored caves, unknown to even the locals! C'mon, you've got to be a bit excited! Let's get going before it gets any later in the day, I would hate having to spend a night down there." Petra rambled, shouldering a red backpack and snatching up a similarly colored duffle bag as she went. Janus scrambled after her, seizing his green hued counterparts of the same. The bags were heavy, but not unmanageable, even for one of his lacking athleticism. Petra was already descending the hill, moving away from town towards a far-off mountain vale, her optimism for the endeavor betrayed as a small skip in her steps.