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?