-Shut up, man! This is all your fault! If you hadn’t been talking all the fucking time, we would have been back in town with the rest of the group now with beautiful photos of the waterfall.
-So now it’s my fault? You’re the one who… Wait… What’s that?
The two travellers stared in awe. This was far better than any waterfall.
-A monument of a lost civilization. I can’t believe this!
They had been lost in the jungles for days, getting deeper and deeper in the more they tried to get out.
-I think we’ve discovered something totally new man!
The carvings looked like they had been formed by nature itself, but they were too figurative to be a coincidence. Two eyes were staring down on them from above a mouth formed cave entrance.
-What could be in there? I don’t know, but I don’t really like the look on that face…
-You’re such a coward. Come on, let’s go have a look!
… It had no legs, and the arms seemed to be hidden under its cloth. Its face was old, diffuse, like it wasn’t really there. Mock was wondering if it could be eaten, but had a feeling it couldn’t even be killed. Not with his spear, at least.
-Do you know the way out?
The figure seemed to be looking straight through him, like if he wasn’t there.
“The tunnels are all like tar and resin,
Like sailors’ knots and the spider’s spin
The exit is found at the stop of the top
A stone is tossed when gravity’s lost”
It disappeared in thin air, just as it had arrived…
…One day, deep in the darkest parts of the old library, he found a book. The words pierced his soul like a summer breeze, like soothing honey, like bare feet in warm sea water.
He sunk into a world he had never known, he swam through knowledge and wisdom. He went deeper, touching the truth beyond it all. He knew there would be light in the end of the tunnel.
Two eyes stared at him…
Trapped in shadows
Haunted by wilt
He whispers in vain
Horrors of the future
Fears of what’s done
of the unknown
Longing for truce
nowhere to hide
The sinister wraiths
they are him
This illustration is based on a pencil sketch I made as far back as…
-It’s coming this way! Jerome the bell-ringer was shouting, almost screaming, his heart beating wildly. -Please, God! Help us!
Father Juan was staring towards the horizon. They had heard the rumours. A monster. Centipede body, mantis eyes. Big as a mountain. Destroying villages, castles and cities along its way.
-Only one thing can save us now… Come, follow me!
Jerome hurried after the priest as he ran down the stairs of the clock tower. They entered the door to the private chambers. A staircase went deep down underneath the cathedral cellars, a staircase Jerome never knew existed. At the end of a long corridor rusty hinges shrieked as the priest pulled an old door open.
The room was dark and humid, smelled of rot and dirt. The light from the fire torch fell on a small crystal box in a corner. The book inside was old, very old. It had strange marks on it, runes and symbols. Unholy…
No one ever went close to the old house on top of the hill. The last family who lived there fled in a couple of weeks. Others before them had not been as lucky.
Now a car was driving up the driveway. Two children came out from the back seat. The driver helped their mother inside with some boxes and suitcases befre he drove off.
A shadow was watching from the window. Once again they would invade his home, once again he would have to defend his property. Just because he was dead, they thought they could come and take what was his.
They would regret this…