Category: Artifact

A lone hiker treks, far from civilization, deep into the wilderness. Relying solely on his compass, map and skills he explores a vast mountainous wilderness. All he needs he carries on his back. Day follows night. Night follows day. Camp, trek. Trek, camp. 

Nearly a week in, the lone hiker stops to set camp as the sun sets low.  Taking out tools, he sets about building a small shelter and a fire. All but settled for the night., he breaks out his mess kit and begins opening a can of beans. Looking around enjoying the view he empties his can into his skillet. His face turns aghast as he looks into the skillet to see what is unmistakably the spherical round of an eye. The eye looking askew turns to stare at him. 

He drops and kicks away the skillet gasping “What the fuck”. 

Stepping back, never taking his eyes off the upturned skillet gasping heavily as he backs into a tree. Slowly he slides his back down the tree until he is squatting. He stays that way eyes glued to the skillet for what feels like hours until he notices the sun has set. 

Slowly getting up and picking up a stick he makes his way toward the skillet and beans. By the light of the fire and using a stick he slowly flips the skillet over. No sign of the grotesque orb, he probes the beans spreading them around looking for the horror. 

He finds naught but spoiled beans. 

His appetite gone he settles in for the night turning his knapsack so as he can keep his eyes on the skillet and tainted beans. He fights the urge to sleep fixated on the spot as the fire dies down. Try as he might to stay awake, eventually he falls asleep. 

Startled awake and quickly remembering where he was his eyes scan and find the skillet, it still lies how he left it. 

Feeling as if he had a full night’s sleep he is puzzled to realize it is still night with no sign of dawn. Fumbling with his watch he is troubled that it will not illuminate. Reaching for a small flashlight he shines it on his watch to see that it is blank, as if the battery were dead. He frantically takes it off and begins fumbling with the buttons in vain, he slams it on the ground. 

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.”

“This is too weird. I don’t like this.” he utters aloud in the quite darkness, startled by his own voice.

On the verge of hyperventilating, “Calm down man. Breathe. Breathe.” 

Focused on breathing and rationalizing with the situation, he ponders what to do. 

Shining the light around only seeing endless trees “Ok there is something here I can feel it.” Nodding his head he realizes it’s time to pack and hike his ass out of this heart of darkness. 

Reaching for his map and compass to plot his exit he is startled to find his compass needle jumps from point to point irrationally. He chuckles hopelessly, fearfully. 

Throwing the compass and map aside he scans the woods again with his flashlight looking to find the path he followed into this hell. 

His light illuminates the impossible. He drops the light and stumbles backward gasping for air. His flashlight having revealed a figure of inhuman stature, with wings black and leathery, feet of a raptor, head of ram. Visible for merely a second lost when the flashlight hit the ground and rendered inoperable. 

Staring into the pith black, seeing nothing. 

“You are trespassing.”

Turning toward the voice he sees what appears to be and older gentleman. Aided by a walking stick he has the look of one who has long lived alone in the wilderness. 

“Shit.  Man, you scared the fuck out of me.” Collecting his wits and feeling relieved at no longer being alone.  “I think I might be lost, if I’m trespassing on your property l’m sorry. Just point me the way out of here and I’ll be on my way. “

No reply

“This place is haunted, man. that or I am going fucking crazy from exhaustion. “

The old man says nothing. 

While gathering his things,“I mean, you ever notice crazy shit around here?” 

After a brief pause. 

“Lost? I hear that often. ever shall it be while Uriel guards the way. By which way did you come?”

“Yeah, you see I don’t even know. That’s what I mean by haunted. My compass wont point to north, it spins all crazy like. Oh and I didn’t see any guards. I would have heeded that, believe me. “

The old man walks toward the campfire it grows intense and then flickers almost out he sits on an old log. 

“It seems I blow your flickering life span out.”

“The campfire? I don’t need it. Just point me the way out, man, and I’ll be out of here.”

“Sit.” the one without a name commanded. “By which way did you come.”

Feeling compelled to sit the hiker sits. 

“I started out from the trailhead that starts near the Devil’s Bridge about six or seven days ago. I thought I was following the Bighorn Trail when I ended up here. I can’t even tell you which way I came here by.” he says as he looks around.

“Trees behind trees, how swiftly they change places.” A shivers runs down the hikers spine as the old man speaks.

 The hiker scans out into trees and into the darkness, realizing he does not recognize the scenery from an hour ago let alone from his arrival.   

“How wretched the moons perfect disk let’s use instead the wil-o-the-wisp.”

As he speaks an eerie glow permeates the woods. “Mammon never spares the light.”

Noticeably nervous, “I dont even care to pack. Anything here you want to can have.” And then quickly adding “Unless you want it gone, I didn’t mean to imply I was going to litter on your property.”

“Fashioned little worlds within the bigger one Judgment Day must soon draw nigh for the world is in certain decline, Faustus. 

Standing up shocked on hearing his middle name an icy dagger pierces his heart. “Do I know you?”  

“If my ears still behave you speak of groove or is it grave “

A flood of distant memories from past existences inundate his mind. Threads intertwined  into a web at the center a most dreadful pact. A distant name recalled from time forgotten, “Gretchen.”

Swift as an arrow, the stranger was before him, face to face. The dagger in his heart radiates out into all appendages and looking down he sees that the old man’s hand having pierced his flesh disappeared into his very torso. The harbinger of death pulls back his hand to reveal a beating heart.   

“Lacking faith one believes only what one sees. Measures illusion with illusion.  Less worth than slaughtered sacrificial sheep.  You reckon by Earthly rotations I by celestial.  What worth is eternal creation when all is subject to annihilation.”

With his engine of life removed from its chassis, he slumps to his knees. I light descends from the heavens. As he passes from the world he remembers the bargain struck and the price paid.

“Gretchen.”