I've lost time again.
My night in the cabin seemed to go on forever; every creak and groan chilled me to the very bone. The wind picked up sometime near midnight, and managed to find its way through the cracks between the boards, around the frames of the windows, sucking out as much heat as I could generate with the fire I had burning.
It made me worry what else could possibly have gotten in.
I'm not much good at protective runes. Those are Eri's specialty. But she's not here.
Just him...
I'm so sick of him.
It took me three days to find the caves. Three days wasted while I searched. I know I should have recorded notes prior to now, but...
Writing things down has never been one of my strong points.
The caves were a little farther away than I had expected. Had I followed the creek to begin with, instead of the larger river, I would have found it quicker. But it goes to show how time can change so many things... before the small hydroelectric dam had been put in, that small creek had been much larger, with a much stronger current. But the wise people of Blackstone felt that redirecting the water away from the falls would make it easier to harness as a source of energy. Perhaps they were right, I don't know.
I do know that getting lost in the wilderness in January is not much fun. But he is always there, if not to mock me, then to at least keep me alive.
The caves were neither big, nor impressive. I had to slither in on my belly, a chore made all the more difficult by the cold weather and snow. I hate the winters in this part of the world.
I want to go home.
Inside the cave, amid the rubble, the mouldering leaves, and rodent feces, I did find what I was looking for. Etchings on stone, primitive, but to the point.
A horse, white in colour, with a single horn coming from its brow. A female figure standing beside it. A dagger in her hand.
I don't get it. There are no unicorns in our mythology. Don't they come from the Celts? We have hydras and cyclopes and serpents so large...
I'm beginning to wonder if this is another one of his tests. I hate his tests.
I want to go home.
At least now I am in semi-comfort, in a little room at Blackstone Bed and Breakfast. Much nicer than the cabin. Warmer too. And I can crawl into a real bed, rest a little, rather than sit at a table, my head in my hands, letting my imagination run wild with what watches from the dark.
I wish I could say it's because I read too many scary stories. I wish I could say that I've watched too many scary movies.
I wish it wasn't because of what I've seen wit my own two eyes.
Tomorrow is another day. I have my photographs and rubbings of the cave etching. Now I need to find where I've seen it before.
I need access to a good computer, and high speed Internet.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Day One
Fuck.
Can you believe it? He says he doubts me. That the answer will appear right in front of my face, and I won't even see it. That I need to write everything down, because I'll have to read back through any notes I've made, to really see it.
Like I'm still 12, and in grade school.
He knows I've never been to grade school.
So here's the deal. I've picked up this notebook, and I'll write the events of each day. I wanted one with peacocks on it, since that's what my mother used to raise, but hummingbirds are what I've got. Makes sense; there are lots of hummingbirds in Blackstone, so of course Blackstone Books and Gifts would carry it. Little tourist trap that it is. Don't they know how illiterate the community is?
I digress.
He brings me to this backwoods town, in the middle of gods-know-where Ontario. During the off season, on top of everything else.
There's a lake, about 18 kilometres Northeast of here, and a cave, hidden in the bluffs. Something about a clue, I'm not sure if it's what, something that will tell me about the shadowglyphs.
I don't even care about the shadowglyphs. Why would I?
He thinks that I do. Because the glyphs might bring my family back. Who cares? They've been dead for so long now. Why would I want to freshen the wound by bringing them back?
I'm staying in a small cabin. Wood floors, well-worn. Single-pane glass windows, a bit drafty. Old wood stove, I just had to clean out an abandoned bird's nest, and now the fire is burning merrily.
Merrily does not describe how cold it is outside. How cold it was inside, just a few short hours ago. The cabin is only one room, about eight feet wide, by ten feet long. Three windows; a small one on the east side, a larger one on the south side by the door. The final one is on the west side, where I watched the last traces of sun slip behind the horizon.
The windows are all covered now.
I could lie, and say it's to keep out the drafts, to keep the warm air in. True in part, I suppose.
It's not the dark I fear. It's what hides in the dark that scares me so much. The things that haunt my dreams, keep me hostage while I writhe in a cold sweat under thin sheets.
There is some light inside; a small oil lamp flickers, giving me just enough light to put my thoughts down on paper. The smell of burning kerosene gives me a headache.
One small table, two chairs. I don't imagine I'll be entertaining here much. Or at all.
Narrow bed. The mattress stinks of squirrel urine. I wouldn't be surprised if I found one or more nests inside the torn fabric cover.
It is the bedding that I've used to cover the windows; two thin sheets and a faded blue coverlet. All have evidence of abuse by squirrels, but they'll do the trick. If I decide to stay here, tomorrow I'll burn the mattress outside. I'd throw it out tonight, but...
The night feels very heavy tonight. I can't help but think there's something hiding out there, watching me. That something has found me.
He says I'm safe here. I don't believe him. I can never believe him.
The first time he came to me, it was with a gift in his hand, and a lie on his lips. I won't be making that mistake again. Not ever again.
Tomorrow, with the rising of the sun, I'll begin my search for the caves. See if I can find any evidence of the shadowglyphs at all. I know they aren't here; how would an ancient relic make its way into backwoods, Canada? But perhaps there will be clues; I know that Eri travelled through here. If only I knew where she was now! She is the guardian of the glyphs.
She was the guardian of the glyphs.
He says she's safe, but I know she has failed. What am I going to do if I can't find them? Will my fate mirror hers?
Can you believe it? He says he doubts me. That the answer will appear right in front of my face, and I won't even see it. That I need to write everything down, because I'll have to read back through any notes I've made, to really see it.
Like I'm still 12, and in grade school.
He knows I've never been to grade school.
So here's the deal. I've picked up this notebook, and I'll write the events of each day. I wanted one with peacocks on it, since that's what my mother used to raise, but hummingbirds are what I've got. Makes sense; there are lots of hummingbirds in Blackstone, so of course Blackstone Books and Gifts would carry it. Little tourist trap that it is. Don't they know how illiterate the community is?
I digress.
He brings me to this backwoods town, in the middle of gods-know-where Ontario. During the off season, on top of everything else.
There's a lake, about 18 kilometres Northeast of here, and a cave, hidden in the bluffs. Something about a clue, I'm not sure if it's what, something that will tell me about the shadowglyphs.
I don't even care about the shadowglyphs. Why would I?
He thinks that I do. Because the glyphs might bring my family back. Who cares? They've been dead for so long now. Why would I want to freshen the wound by bringing them back?
I'm staying in a small cabin. Wood floors, well-worn. Single-pane glass windows, a bit drafty. Old wood stove, I just had to clean out an abandoned bird's nest, and now the fire is burning merrily.
Merrily does not describe how cold it is outside. How cold it was inside, just a few short hours ago. The cabin is only one room, about eight feet wide, by ten feet long. Three windows; a small one on the east side, a larger one on the south side by the door. The final one is on the west side, where I watched the last traces of sun slip behind the horizon.
The windows are all covered now.
I could lie, and say it's to keep out the drafts, to keep the warm air in. True in part, I suppose.
It's not the dark I fear. It's what hides in the dark that scares me so much. The things that haunt my dreams, keep me hostage while I writhe in a cold sweat under thin sheets.
There is some light inside; a small oil lamp flickers, giving me just enough light to put my thoughts down on paper. The smell of burning kerosene gives me a headache.
One small table, two chairs. I don't imagine I'll be entertaining here much. Or at all.
Narrow bed. The mattress stinks of squirrel urine. I wouldn't be surprised if I found one or more nests inside the torn fabric cover.
It is the bedding that I've used to cover the windows; two thin sheets and a faded blue coverlet. All have evidence of abuse by squirrels, but they'll do the trick. If I decide to stay here, tomorrow I'll burn the mattress outside. I'd throw it out tonight, but...
The night feels very heavy tonight. I can't help but think there's something hiding out there, watching me. That something has found me.
He says I'm safe here. I don't believe him. I can never believe him.
The first time he came to me, it was with a gift in his hand, and a lie on his lips. I won't be making that mistake again. Not ever again.
Tomorrow, with the rising of the sun, I'll begin my search for the caves. See if I can find any evidence of the shadowglyphs at all. I know they aren't here; how would an ancient relic make its way into backwoods, Canada? But perhaps there will be clues; I know that Eri travelled through here. If only I knew where she was now! She is the guardian of the glyphs.
She was the guardian of the glyphs.
He says she's safe, but I know she has failed. What am I going to do if I can't find them? Will my fate mirror hers?
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