Ravinous

The old man was tall, his limbs long and spindly. He sat hunched over in a chair too small to fit him well, and as he laughed his hearty laugh he nearly spilled over its back every time. His straw-like, greyed hair covered the right half of his face, concealing one of his strikingly clear blue eyes. One might suspect he did so because it was the price of some unnatural deal so long ago. He held his pipe gingerly in his hand, a long instrument engraved with symbols from a tribe far away. He was a strange figure to behold. Being only time’s short participant, I naturally wanted to know everything about him.

“How did you know someone so young?” I asked him. The others surrounding him seemed clearly amused by my interruption and inane question, but the old man just laughed it all away in the manner of a friend.

“My boy, I have traveled long and far, and I have known more than most ever will. I make it my business to meet with my yet un-blood-bound kin.” He looked me over for a moment; stared me right in the eyes for minutes upon minutes, though it felt like hours. “Say,” he began, “You seem like one for stories. Not many people these days seem to like stories…” He trailed off, staring at the cavern ceiling. Out of nowhere, he asked, “Well? Do I read you well?” The suddenness of the question nearly made me jump. Hesitantly, I responded

“I do. The best are the ones with sad endings.” The old man began to laugh at my comment,

“Hear me now, you’ll not impress me talking like that. I don’t care if the kind of stories you like best concern the children of the earth and their immortal lives. All that matters is that you like stories. Understand?” Dejected and a bit deflated, I nodded. The old man smiled, and said, “Good. Now, how would you like to hear a story with a very sad ending?” I perked up a bit at this, curious. “No that’s not why. This story’s more than just sad, it’s the story of a man’s final, futile efforts. This man’s, in fact.” He pointed in the general direction of the casket, at the center of the ceremony and the massive crowd. “What do you say?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I shouted,

“Yes!” It felt like a shout, anyway. Nobody turned to look at me, and in fact my own voice rang out in my ears. It was as though I were alone in an enclosed box.

“That’s good,” the old man replied. It was a moment before he started, as he drew out some dried plant matter from his pocket and tortuously packed it into his pipe. He then lit it, and waited for a few moments as the small fire began to billow in a way I’d never seen a pipe flare up before. Then, with a long breath he drew in the smoke, held it, and exhaled, forming little rings which enveloped the earth’s stunted fingers above us. It smelled almost like candy, but bitter.

“Where to begin…”

* * *

To know a man you have to understand his motivations, I suppose. This man, much like myself, was an explorer. When I first met him, we were in the uncharted caverns far past the edge of man’s world. Being out there is somewhat euphoric you know, peaceful. You can actually hear yourself think, and you can actually hear other people’s thoughts too. It was clear that this man was new to this world of uncertainty, and that he loved it all the same. It was something about hating the complacency of village life, a feeling I can very much agree with. Oh, but he still had his family, and while they supported him, he knew they didn’t like to see him gone… It’s a real shame for them, you know.

Anyway, it was on the final leg of his return journey. Can you believe it? He was so nearly home, yet he’s never been farther… All that was left was to cross this massive ravine. The way he described it, the place was truly a sight to behold. From wall to wall it could have fit at least thirty men walking shoulder-to-shoulder, and it would have taken even the fastest runner two days to traverse, running non-stop. Fortunately, he could move pretty fast on his own, so the journey only took him about four-and-a-half days in spite of… Certain complications.

But what was the most amazing part, you might ask? Why, there were holes in the rock up above! All you had to do was look up, and somewhere you could see into the endless blue void. Through one of these holes flowed a never-ending source of water, which pooled on one side before streaming across and down into the darker depths below… Think too of the moss and lichen that grows all over the walls. Well, in that ravine grew plants, vivid plants! Green grasses and many-colored flowers lined the banks of that stream and circled the holes up above. Oh, I only wish I could have seen it myself!

Naturally, the land of the chasm was uneven. To accomodate a river it sloped downwards, but several areas along the way were more rocky and treacherous than a gently curving hill. In fact, one fascinating thing he told me was that as he moved along he could hear the Earth below shifting as though it were alive. These growing pains of the ground were not few and far between either! They happened every couple hours, so he said. The sheer walls were tiered as well, more even at each level but never an unshattered path. So, seeing the danger ahead of him if he were to travel along the river, the man decided he would save time and climb to the second tier of the ravine. That way, any falling rocks he would experience would come earlier rather than later.

As he had brought no tools with him for this specific exercise, it was careful and meticulous work. Any step could have been his last, though we know now what little difference it would have made. It was the strangest thing too. As he climbed, he felt a cool rush of air travel down his back. Perhaps the void above favored him then, perhaps the caverns deep below him were too full of the damned to want him then. Either way, he felt looked after.

When the man finally made it, the better part of a day was past. He didn’t care so much about that though. It was refreshing enough to feel ground under him that would not give way. He spent some time, a couple minutes or so, just reveling in his soreness, and in the chilling breeze that just would not leave him alone. If he had rested longer, if he had been more experienced and known to rest after such a new activity, I wonder if things would be different. I guess that if any number of things had happened or had happened differently, things would have been different… But that’s not important, is it?

See, the man liked to move on quickly. It didn’t matter if he was bored or just if he felt he had spent too long in one place. He just had to keep going. He was that way while we worked together, searching for yet-undiscovered veins of the smiths’ livelihood, and he was like that on this journey as well. As soon as he felt the rest had been too long, he was up and moving. It didn’t matter that his arms still burned, that he could barely even start a fire with them, he just went. I almost didn’t mention, but the soil there too was oddly spongy underfoot, unlike here where it might as well be another layer of rock. One could have dug a hole in that soil in no time. After never having felt something like this before, something I’ve never even felt before in all my travels, it was difficult to acclimate. With every step the Earth took him in a little bit, and every step he had to lift himself by the same amount so as to not fall over. It felt airy beneath his feet, which were bare for some reason I couldn’t even imagine, in the same soothing way the breeze felt all around him. But through this sensation he walked and he walked; never stopping, barely taking anything of his surroundings in.

* * *

“You know,” the old man said, “There is something you should always remember: always take time to stop and breathe. That man over there, he moved and he moved, but he wasn’t seeing. He’s in that casket an adventurer, but his soul might as well have stayed here.” He seemed so serious, I didn’t know what to say. During the first pause in the old man’s story, the loudness of the room crashed down on me again. He was looking away too, off at the ceiling the way he had before. But then he had been watching me, so it felt much stranger than if he had actually been staring me down. It was all too much. I felt like I had to say something, even without thinking.

“Do you mean that I should be an adventurer?” Deliberately, the old man turned his head to look right at me. He took a couple draws from his pipe and laughed his friendly, ridiculous laugh as the smoke poured from his mouth and nose as it does from water’s enkindling cousin. His eyes were gentle, but mildly crazed.

“If I thought you had what it takes, then I wouldn’t be talking right now. You wouldn’t have to question it. See, the only requirement to be an explorer is the desire to experience the world. Nobody else can tell you if you have that, only you. It’s never too late, but it has to hold a special place in your heart. Understand?” Trying to understand, my mind fogged up like the caves in the early morning. But before I could tell him as much, the old man drew from his pipe again, and continued his tale. “Now then… Where was I?”

* * *

Ah, now I have it! Yes, the man continued onward unaware of the stunning beauty around him. He walked and walked until night fell and he grew tired. The chasm became very cold very quickly, as the great blue void is a greedy thing and takes all the heat it can. It was fortunate that his arms had rested enough to be able to start a fire. That night he had a hard time sleeping. Because of the fire he was warm, but he just wasn’t able to shake a chill in his spine. Where before in the day that cool breeze felt nice and helpful, the feeling now was ever-present. To make it worse, he had the strange sensation that there was something with him that night. It was nothing new, as during the day that same breeze felt like the presence of some helpful being. But this was different. As he lay on the ground, on that soil that seemed to swallow him a little bit, he felt something lying next to him; something that he knew would harm him if he acted at all out of place. But what would it consider out of place? The man couldn’t know. So he tossed and turned, though he did so as gently as possible, for the most of the night. When he finally did get to sleep, the creature seemed to invade his mind’s stories as well. I… I’m glad that at least he’s at peace from that now.

The next morning, the man realized that he was running low on food. He had enough for that breakfast and lunch, perhaps enough for that whole day and the next breakfast if he made it last. But he didn’t know what the situation was up ahead. What if the cavern most directly leading home was blocked? What if some freak accident forced him to stay much longer than he had anticipated? Fortunately, he was experienced enough as a traveler to know that you should always expect to be surprised. If you are, then you’re never anything but pleasantly surprised.

Even luckier was that it seemed that whatever it was that had visited him the night before was gone. So was the presence from the previous day. After the experience that had been the previous day, the man actually felt somewhat lonely, even though he had been completely alone for most of the journey before. Either way, he was resolved to find something he could eat.

The issue was, when you’re surrounded by things you have never seen it is easy to kill yourself by being reckless. His solution was to take his spear, wait by the river, and watch the flowers carefully. Maybe you won’t know much about plants like that, but where there are flowers there must be something to eat them. It just seems to be the way it works.

He waited for hours. In that time, all of the holes to the blue void began to leak water, and the void itself became much greyer in color, as if it were becoming night time. The water was cold and uncomfortable, but the man was thankful for it. Thanks to the restless night he had before he was nearly falling asleep every few minutes. The cold water helped him to snap out of his sleep. It was miserable, but it worked. But still, he saw nothing.

He had spent the better part of a day on this, and the man’s impatience began to make his decisions for him. He had made up his mind that he was going back to climb the tier again, and it was such a shame that he had wasted all the effort it took to climb up there the day before. Then, he heard a small squeak behind him. Slowly, he turned around, and he nearly shouted with joy when he saw what was waiting for him. It was a small, furry thing the size of a large bat, but it had no wings, white tufted fur, and very large haunches and ears. His hunter’s instincts kicked in, and he lowered himself to the ground. As the creature slowly moved along the river banks, chewing the grass and flowers, he crawled along to follow it. It seemed as though it would never stop, and the man began to question if he was wasting his time. Eventually though, the creature took a particularly large bite from one stalk, and took its time to chew it. At least, that was what the man had thought at that time. The thing was staying oddly still, almost as though it were frightened, but the man was too happy to question why. He had it! When he had lined up his spear and had readied to throw it, the creature suddenly bolted off. The man had no time for disappointment, however. He felt the chill again. Not the one from the day before but from the night; the one that enveloped him and made him feel unwelcome.

Slowly, he rose from the grass and turned around. He saw a shadow silently moving across the ground. A shadow that had no specific shape, and that seemed to be cast by nothing. But it moved with intent, towards the man. He panicked, not knowing what to do. The falling water didn’t help either. Its constant plink-plink-plink-ing made it nearly impossible to think. With what he had, the man ran. He ran across the river and further down the chasm. He did whatever came by instinct; anything that might help his escape that little night.

* * *

The old man then paused for a moment, staring off at the ceiling. It made me a bit tense, as the last few times he had done that he had still been watching me from the corner of his eye. Slowly I said,

“Is there more to it? What happens next?” I was resolved to keep asking questions until the old man responded, but he didn’t even seem to notice me. I tried again, “Are you okay?” but it felt like my voice just echoed off of him and back to me. Nobody else in the crowd surrounding us seemed to notice what was going on either. It was as if we were alone… As if I were locked in a box, just like before, and he was in a seperate box. I couldn’t speak; I didn’t want to, at least, in case my fears were true. I couldn’t think either; panic took over my mind.

Then, slowly, the man stood up and walked away into the crowd. He disappeared into the mess easily, and soon I was all alone in my box. I waited for a while, hoping he would come back. But it was no use. After minutes and minutes until forever had come and gone there was no sign. As I waited, I began to get a strange feeling in my chest. It felt like a kind of uneasy fear. It felt as if people in the crowd were starting to notice me, but it didn’t feel good or helpful. They were judging me, mocking me, trying to make me feel crazy. There was nothing I could do. Under all the pressure I sank to the ground, head-in-hands. I don’t know how long I was like that, but eventually I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

“Are you okay there, son?” As soon as I heard that voice, the pit in my chest disappeared and I felt like I could breathe again. I looked up and saw the old man standing over me. His face was wet, his eyes were red, but he looked at me with the friendliest smile he could seem to conjure.

“Yes,” I said, not quite sure what to make of what had just happened.

“You look frightened. Is my story scaring you? Because that’s alright. There’s always tomorrow.” I stood up, and said,

“I’m fine. I just… really want to know how it ends.” The old man broke into a laugh as he wandered back into his seat. It felt a bit forced though.

“That’s great to hear. Just… let me know if you want to stop, okay?” I nodded, and the man took another draw from his pipe.

* * *

Strange creatures and occurrences are things that explorers have to train themselves to deal with. This man, being so inexperienced, had never faced anything like this before. But to be honest, I don’t think I would have been prepared for something like this either. The man ran for a while, and he made some decent progress down the ravine. But no matter how fast he ran, how long he ran, the thing was always only a few feet behind him. If that wasn’t bad enough, the spongy ground was now saturated with water. It turned into some kind of a slick mud under his feet, which made it difficult to run. He had practiced for conditions like this, but it took a toll on his stamina.

Eventually, the man just couldn’t run any more. He had almost slid over at least three times, and his legs were covered in mud and grass. He looked around carefully, spear at the ready. If he was going to die, then he would be sure not to go down without some kind of struggle. It’s how you know you’re alive, that you struggle in the face of death. While he may not have made it in the end, however, this was not where he fell. As he scanned the area, he realized that he saw no trace of a moving shadow. But it couldn’t have simply disappeared, could it? Surely it was concealed somewhere, waiting for him to mindlessly wander into its trap. Either way the man lowered his weapon, but stayed on edge. It’s good to always be aware of your surroundings, especially in situations with a clear danger. He reasoned that the thing had been on the ground, therefore he should climb up a tier… Probably two for good measure.

When the man reached the ravine’s jagged, uneven wall and attempted to climb, he found that he was unable to. His arms hadn’t completely recovered from the day before, and if they weren’t ready to climb when they’d been fully rested then they definitely weren’t ready to climb twice that height tired. The dripping water did him no favors either. It made the rocks slippery, and even harder to climb. Instead, he searched the area for any offshooting caves. Maybe there was a place he could take refuge from the water and the creature. As well, with his hunt unsuccessful the man hadn’t eaten at all that day. He was looking forward to finding a nice, dry place to cook his meal.

The best the man could do was find a place where the tier above hung over the ground, protected from the wet and cold, although not from vision. He set a small fire and began roasting a small piece of meat on a spit. It was a small cut, but it was a small fire as well, so the meal took a while to cook. It smelled amazing as it did, however. As the meat roasted, the man began to tune out the plink-plink-plink-ing of the water, and focused instead on the cackling of the enemy of the darkness before him. It was an easy way to keep his mind off of the strange events from just an hour or so earlier. But the peace only lasted for about half-an-hour.

Suddenly, a piercing scream sounded through the air, shaking the man from his concentration. Instinctively, he grabbed his spear, and although he still had not eaten, he put out the fire. He watched, out between the droplets, for any signs of movement on the ground. Again the scream came, this time louder than before. He knew it must have found him somehow; his self-training had gotten him that far. But just how it had found him he did not know. He waited several minutes, just watching the ground ahead and sending prayers to the void above. Perhaps the holes in the rock would help it hear him. Maybe it would be able to answer him, just this once. Then it came…

The man didn’t see it, it just appeared behind him. In fact, he didn’t even really know it was behind him at first. It only made itself known when the man felt a sharp pain in his arm, and turned to find it waiting behind. Blood began to flow from his arm, just a small stream where the thing had bitten the man… Or stabbed him. In his surprise, the man dropped his spear and stood up. He began to run again, this time unburdened by any kind of supplies. As he did, he could hear the terrible screams of the creature behind him; never closer, but never further away.

The man wondered if he could out-run the shadow thing. He had before. Although, really it had just disappeared before it caught up with him. Would it happen again? It wasn’t something the man could count on, and he knew it. So the man ran and ran, like the air’s journeyman he ran. The sounds never stopped, so he ran and ran. It felt like he would run for his whole life, one way or another.

But eventually the man simply couldn’t run any more. His legs grew sore and pained. The great blue void turned from its grey to black as night fell, and the man could see less and less. So he stopped. Eventually, the man realized that that screaming had stopped. But in the darkness he couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t that shadow roaming somewhere nearby. What he did know, however, was that he could feel an evil, discomforting presence around him, just as he had the night before. Is this how the creature operates? A silent observer in the dark and a dangerous hunter in the light? Coupled with how he had no equipment, the man didn’t even bother attempting to sleep that night. He had to stay up, keep watch. Maybe he could beat it away with his bare hands. Maybe he would just have to die trying… But it’s no use fighting sleep. Eventually night’s partner embraced the man, and there was nothing to be done.

Yet he did wake up the next morning. He woke up to the strange light of the void, and to a repeating, dull pain. The shadow was on top of him, pinning him down. I… It hit him, bit him, on the chest, limbs, face, and anywhere else it could reach. The man was sore all over, from the running the day before and from the climbing at the beginning of this final passage, but he was still stronger than the thing. With considerable effort, he pushed the thing to the side and rose from the ground. He was bleeding in several places, but nowhere vital. It didn’t matter anywhere, he didn’t have the time to care. He just ran again. Ran towards the other end of the ravine. He could just about see it too. He was so close.

The water that had been dropping from above did not stop either. In fact, it became worse. Water fell from the holes in the ceiling like waterfalls, and the river’s banks were twice as high. That soft ground, mud the day before, was barely ground anymore. But when the man looked behind, the shadow seemed to be moving with difficulty as well. Somehow, the man stayed ahead of it as he trudged across the final line.

But the entrance to the cavern finally connected to home was raised above. To reach it, he would have to climb. How he wished he hadn’t jumped down from the tier! But he had no choice now. It was either climb or face the shadow again. He knew that he would eventually grow too tired if he tried to keep fighting, so in spite of the water and his sore muscles he attempted the climb.

He did surprisingly well. One of the most important things for an explorer to know is their body’s limits. If you can work within those, then you can do almost anything. The man… Knew intuitively how far he could push himself, and made the ascent. But… I… As I’ve expressed before, this man was never more than an amateur… What he thought he knew by instinct was a lie. A lie he told himself so that he wouldn’t give up hope… That’s what I think anyway. Because he made it halfway up the climb before he began to struggle. It was another successful quarter of the way up, and then his hands slipped. He fell… He… 

* * *

The old man paused for a moment and took another draw from his pipe, which had long since stopped glowing. His eyes were much more reflective, and in them a soft reddish light shone, and there were streams of tears rolling down his puffy face. It was a couple moments, then he spoke again.

“He fell down on his back, right onto a sharp rock behind. I… It… The thing… I found him there just a couple days ago in a pool of his own making. It was not a pleasant sight. I brought him here, and here we are now. I just wish… I…” He stopped again to wipe his face, and I asked him,

“Are you okay?” He was not, and I didn’t know what to do. I had never seen an adult like this before. I felt alone again in my box, scared. He never answered. He began to breathe unevenly, and I could see tears welling in his eyes. 

“That day… If only he’d met someone more patient…” Then he just stood up, stamped down on the fire in front of him, and walked away into the crowd without another word.

I was scared, so I curled up and began to cry. But this time it was different. I still felt alone, still judged, but this time… My voice seemed less echoed. Eventually, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I seized up, expecting it to be the old man again. But it wasn’t. A different man walked in front of me and crouched down to my eye-level.

“How are you holding up there?” I couldn’t really speak, so I just shook my head. The man’s neutral face contorted into an exaggerated frown. “Well that’s too bad. Was that old man’s story frightening you?” I nodded. That man sat next to me for a minute or two, trying to get me to calm down. It did help that eventually I recognized him to be one of my father’s friends.

“Do you know it?” I was finally able to spit out.

“What? The story?” I nodded again. “Sure. He’ll tell it to anybody that will listen.” Eventually, something odd sparked in my mind.

“How? This man only died a couple days ago. Didn’t he?” The man next to me did a double-take, and asked,

“What? Did he say it was about this man?” I nodded.

“Oh. Do you want to hear a little secret then?”

“Yes. I love secrets.”

“The story isn’t about this man. It’s about one of his previous companions from years ago. Back when he was still an adventurer. He was… Not exactly the slowest to anger back then, I’ll let you know. In fact, he can still be pretty rash sometimes…” He paused for a moment, then said, “Here. Let’s get you back home. It’s a bit late, I think.” That was the last of the wake for me that night.

The next morning, the town was buzzing when I woke up. Everyone was moving past my house, and everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs for whatever reason. My parents were gone from the house too, and in my tired state I was a bit confused.

I went outside to ask what was going on, and I was almost trampled. Nobody I asked seemed to want to tell me, and everyone tried to get me back into my house, as if there was something I wasn’t supposed to see. But this was all years ago.

A couple days ago, my parents drank a bit too much of the rootwine, and let slip what had happened that chaotic day. The night before, the old man had disappeared from the wake. Apparently he was bawling uncontrollably, muttering something about how he “wasn’t worthy.” Nobody quite knew where he went, but nobody cared because this wasn’t the first time, and it was reasonable to imagine he was just tired. The next morning, he hadn’t gone to the shaman for advice the way he had done regularly for years. It seemed a bit strange, so the shaman decided to check in on him. He found the old man in his bed; a knife in hand, throat cut open. His usually cheery face contorted in an expression of pain and sadness. To use a phrase of his from so long ago, he was found in a pool of his own making, in the candlelight casting a shadow of no specific shape. But the worst part, you know, is that I don’t fully know what to make of this…