The Weary Man

The weary man approaches the opening in the countryside just as the sun rise upon the wasteland. He’s wary of the hole, and hesitates before it. He followed every single instruction and direction he had been given to the letter, and now he's finally found the sanctuary within the hillside. Excitement ripples through him. Fear dwells within him too, but excitement overpowers the fear.

He steps into the darkness. He takes out, from his travel pack, a lantern. He lights it, and continues onwards. A damp cold air swallows the man. He shivers. His flesh crawls as a rat squeaks and flees the man’s marching feet.

 He listens. Nothing of importance can be heard, except for the faint dripping of water falling off the grimy walls of the cavern. He wonders how long it’ll take to reach the heart of the cavern. He continues.

For a moment, he hums to himself, but abruptly stops when he is reminded of the advice he was given the day before. What was the first rule that old man forced into his ears? Oh, yes: don’t disturb them. Be silent. If one “wakes” them up….

The next rule: don’t desecrate the cavern. The man is unsure of how he could do that anyway. The rock is ancient. It hasn’t been moved before. It’ll never move. Probably as old as God is, the man figures. He chuckles. Maybe older?

Light interrupts his thoughts. He has found the end of the entryway.

He steps into the light. He is there.