Storytime with CaptainBaconMan Come read my shitty stories.
To start things of, here's Chapter 1 of a story I'm working on right now called In The Dark (working title).
In The Dark Chapter 1
I readied myself to explore the cave. A fortnight ago it had opened itself after a landslide caused by heavy rainfall. I had been debating with myself whether or not to explore it on my own terms or hire someone to do it. After some reflection I decided to venture it alone. I had a good bit of spelunking experience under my belt, and the equipment to do it.
I situated my pack, starting out on the path that led to the cavern. As I went I listened to the whisping of the wind through the trees, the snap of twigs under my feet, and the quiet of the sun. As I neared, I could see places where the turbulent earth had ripped itself asunder. It's newly awoken breath lingered in the air. I inhaled it's musty sent, and walked down the hill towards the enterance.
Then, the gaping maw of the earth came into view. Jagged bleak stones riddled all around. They were a strange white color, not an off white but a really crisp starched white. Like it was almost glowing with a hint of blue. I scratched one. It was not calcite or chalk, it was hard. But I wasn't a geologist, so I discarded it as some abnormal rock. I would investigate later when I had some sort of reference. I kept walking.
I got to the mouth of the cave, and then sat for a moments reprieve. I sat facing the cave's mouth. It was about twelve by fourteen feet, but for some reason I couldn't see very far inside, maybe about ten feet or so. I figured it was because of the ambient light outside, and the sun shining on my face. Which would cause me not to be able to see low levels of light very well.
Then a tremble began in my spine. Involuntary and unsettling, but it came slowly at first. I could feel a presence, almost obvious but completely unseen. A hulking, creeping mass that was hidden in plain view. It was almost like when something is just on the boundary of your peripheral vision, or like in a horror movie, when you're looking at something specific, and something large and intrusive is right there, right there, and nobody notices it or what it's doing. Then, suddenly the feeling stopped.
I woke up. Which was weird, because I had not noticed the transition from being awake to sleep. It was also weird because I usually do not fall asleep during the day, especially when I'm outside and laying against a rock. I stood up and slipped on my pack. I glanced behind me. Everything seemed perfectly normal, or rather, in the state it had been in when I had fallen asleep. I shrugged, turned around, and headed into the cave.
I had not taken more than ten steps into the cave when everything suddenly became pitch black. I tripped, and fell on my elbow. I yelped in pain. Checking for broken bones as I stood up slowly, I realized that the entrance to the cave was nowhere in sight. I panicked, pulling out my flashlight and shining it wildly around. I was in a black hallway.
My breath manifested in the light beam. It was cold, but not freezing. I flashed the light down one side of the hallway. About thirty meters away there was a 90 degree turn in the passage, and in the other direction was an endless stretch of blackness. As I looked down it I felt all of my senses coalesce, then dissipate into nothing.
I began to feel nauseous, and then was sick on the ground. The sight of the infinite had awakened a primal fear in me. The fear of God. I shakily turned around, my skin feeling prickly knowing the endless expanse was gaping open behind me. I walked towards the bend, hoping there was an exit or something that would explain where I was.
Upon rounding the bend I saw another stretch of hallway. Although I could not see the end, it did not give me the same feeling as before leading me to believe it was not all that long. What was distinctly different in another aspect was that the hallway was littered with doorways, albeit they had no doors on them.
Out of desperation and curiosity, I decided to investigate the rooms. I walked past the first opening and shined the light into the opening. The beam traveled about a foot through the door and disappeared, as if the darkness was so thick it had become a tangible substance. I traversed more of the hallway, and each doorway held the same phenomenon. It was as if the doorway was eating the light.
I waved my hand in front of the congealed darkness. There was no flux of material, no movement in response to the sudden change of convection. It wasn't any sort of fog or gas. It was simply darkness. Not the abstract darkness, as in evil. Nor was it the scientific 'absence of light'. It was just dark. I had no other way to explain it, and it invoked such a visceral feeling in me that darkness is the only term I can think of.
I walked over and sat on the ground, leaned up against the wall, facing into the void. The breathed slowly, not exactly thinking, just being. I'm not sure how long I sat there. It could have been years, but that would mean I had somehow bought a pair of micro-fusion cells instead of 2 AA batteries for my small mag-light.
Then I suddenly felt a small precognitive notion bubble in my chest. The fear, that unquenchable ravenous fear of some infinite unknown came pouring back into my internal cavities. I wasn't sure what to do, but I slowly got up, and put on my pack. As I kneeled to retrieve my flashlight, my vision blurred as my pupils bulged involuntarily. Then, quietly, a ringing began. Like when you're a kid and you turn on the TV. It grew louder, and louder, threatening to break me. The walls would shatter at any moment if I touched them. I grabbed my flashlight and ran into the closest doorway.
- 16 January 2011 - 09:49 AM