The Spectral Mists of The Dark Hole

Surprise Surprise Surprise! *clears throat after Gomer Pyle impersonation*
I'd initially planned on taking a break from our hapless heroes hilarity for an entry or two, but since Fleeting History doesn't want to upload images direct from my harddrive I need to link the images from my photostream(s). So the entry originally planned for this post is hereby frozen until the related images are posted in stream next week.

In the meantime I present to you, dear reader, with a modicum of pride and embarrassment, the first part of the second trilogy featuring our three friends (Gah! More math!!!)

The Spectral Mists of The Dark Hole

Starring our intrepid friends from that town whose people want its name changed and a railroad tunnel as the Dark Hole:

In ancient times, when stories and legends were shared among mankind by word of mouth, before stone tablets and before any form of paper recorded these fables, beings existed who were capable of wondrous actions. Societies and cities (though not as we know them now) thrived. Architecture and subterranean construction reached astonishing levels (some of which exists today withstanding the test of time and far out lasting those who built and lived there). But with great triumph comes great tragedy and whole races of people faded from the land.

Present day in a wooded glen nestled in snowy mountains: Steve, chew-spitting guy and Susan/whatever she wanted to change her name to, are hiking along a creek of snow-melt run-off at dusk. According to the Farmer's Almanac the sun won't set for another hour or so, but in reality it is already behind the mountains. Sue/whatever is finishing the last bites of her granola, or energy, we're not sure which, bar and stuffs the empty wrapper in her coat pocket. Since the sun's down, the late March chill is noticeable. She quivers and picks up the pace to keep up with the men.

"When you said let's go on a little hike, I didn't think you meant all day," she retorts, huffing her breath in a big visible chuff. It was a harsh hike, even downhill. Jacob the chew-spitter spits juice.

"What's the matter? Afraid of another episode like last time?" he asks with a snicker.

"Come on," says Steve, the most vanilla of the three, "Really, how many of these portal thingies really exist in our time/space continuum?" the question makes him ponder, though, as the phrase "time/space continuum" had been used for two blogs in a row on a site he frequented. Surely that couldn't just be coincidence. (search for Mark O's blog on Yahoo pages 14 & 15 to see for yourself)
"I'm just saying I'm not in the mood for some extraterrestrial experience, that's all," Sue states as the steep slope levels and they round a spruce tree older than them. That's when they see it. A cave-like opening with an inscription above it.

"Abandon hope all ye who enter here," Jacob jibes with juicy emphasis.

"This isn't time for jokes," Sue tells him and gets the shivers.

"Or quoting 'The Inferno'," adds Steve, pointlessly.

"This has got 'bad' written all over it," Sue shares, "darkness, more darkness, and beyond that? DARKNESS! I mean, how crazy are we to go walking into that dark hole while night falls?"

"Look!" calls Steve, "I've found an inscription carved in the rock."

"Well?" Jacob spits more juice and wipes his chin.

"You're disgusting," Sue tells him.

"I can't understand it. One of these words looks like it should mean some form of dancing but the letters are all wrong..."

The cold bites into Susan, she feels as if the slight breeze is a brutal arctic hurricane-force wind. Her jacket doesn't feel warm enough so she starts stamping her feet and bouncing where she stands, making audible displeasure groans. (Do you see where this is going?)

Initially, none of them see the smoke-like formations slowly floating out of the opening. That is, not until they are damp as if they were standing in fog and they sense a heavy musty odor about them. That's when Sue gives a clipped shriek.

The above story originally appeared on my first blog in April 2007