Landscape (Part II)

This is a 3 chapter short story, and here is the part of the second part. Still a work in progress.

For the first part, follow this link:

Landscape  (13+) (Weird fiction) Narrator is visited by an ailed visitor and dreams of a weird landscape. #1239231 by Thomas Eding

Landscape

II. The Dreams of Night and Day

          I had never before witnessed the death of a man, and I could but help but stay motionless, holding my gaze upon the poor body of the lost soul. The weather had bound itself to the situation, for the falling of the rain seemed to be hideously fitting to such an occurrence as that of death. The cool air, the darkness of night, the ever-present drum of the rain, all of them befitted the solemn incident. I felt pity sweep into my own soul, and I did not know exactly why, but a dim recollection of despair invaded my sentiment. It was not a powerful sensation that overcame me, for my resentment must have originated from the fact that I regretted my inability to restore vigor to my latent guest. Nevertheless, the sinful dirge of sorrow nestled into my being.

          I got up from my chair to stand. Never before had such an act seemed to have taken so long. The floor croaked during those few, yet everlasting seconds as my muscles applied force to the wood. I felt as if my own being somehow morbidly mocked the dead man, and I stared straight into his face as these thoughts brewed themselves into my mind during those moments. The very fact that my own vitality remained intact was appalling to this scene of death. Despite having such thoughts, I did not allow myself to succumb to the animosity of such feelings.

          Instead, they made me feel strangely alive. It was not as if I had suddenly come to realize the extent of my own vitality and the surges of euphoric sensations that would have come with such a revelation. On the contrary, I came to feel the utter frailty of life, and that feeling drifted over to the awareness of my own being. I was but a shell, a living corpse that could flicker out without a moment’s pause. Odd as this knowledge may have seemed, I was not at all disturbed. I knew that this was one of those sentiments that felt so vivid and so strong that when given an hour, would become an ephemeral thought that has fled the mind, unable to be grasped again.

          Every moment brewed itself into unlimited life, each putting stay in my being. My candlelight still shone brilliantly in the thick of the night, while puddles of wax began to form at its base, and the light poured onto me the details of the scene. Ironically, it was mostly the empty expanse of the room that melded into my memory, for the void seemed to be of more substance and attribution than did my actual surroundings.

          I paced about the room for no apparent reason. I focused my thought upon the laborious weather that prevailed in the outside environs. The sounds of the storm, namely the arduous wind and the crashing of the rainwater, did not cease to give entertainment to me. Such sounds, I deemed, were so enigmatic and wistful that I could never extinguish the importance of their gestures. A quiet stage of envy crept into my being, for I yearned to explore the recesses of nature then, although I knew that I was to be confined to my abode for the present. Acknowledging this, I gradually stopped my pacing and retired to my former seat. The occurrences of the night replayed themselves again in my mind, and I desperately began to long for the pull of sleep to banish the emotions that presided over me.

          The lake presented itself yet again, lingering humbly in its stone habitat, and I felt at awe once again toward its indescribable demeanor. The heavens soared above as an immortal fold of night, and its starless carpet brought to me a sense of cool serenity which was balanced by the soundless orb in the sky.

          My restless eyes wandered from the aerial abyss toward the scene before me. In the moonlit night, the cascading waters fled eerily from the earthen cliffs, and the lake which rested below their currents sparkled ethereally in the orb’s radiance as if catching bands of light amidst its watery crests and submerging them one by one into its fathomless bottoms.

          A most peculiar feeling enveloped me in my watchful trance. The shades and wilds of the night had integrated their cool stillness into my heart, and I was entailed to let go of the woe which had fallen into my being. Now, I was forced to behold the mysteries of my locality. Everything had become clearer to me, for a calm sense of euphoria enclosed about my soul, dispensing of any form of sorrow and loneliness that had already ladened my mind. It had seemed too long since the last time I had appreciated the dampness of the falling mist, the smooth and hewn stone formations, the tickling of the air, and the roar of the falls. And before I knew it, a smile came to bestow itself across my face.

          But the sudden glee and appreciation soon drifted away. Yet I was not disappointed at the loss, for I was still content in my solitude. Silently, I let time roll past me. I could feel its essence brush past my skin as rolls of a lost wind. Blackness enveloped my sight as I came to focus upon the shadows of the night. I no longer retained my attention upon the dazzling sparkles of the lake. Rather, it became fixated upon the darkness which surrounded them. While treating my eyes upon the realms of the dark, I came to notice the unlighted caverns and dank tunnels encompassing the lake.

          Spurred by a pull of curiosity, I headed to an accessible opening and peered into its hollow confines. I saw nothing except for dimly lit walls, which receded into nothingness. Undaunted, I entered the bleak recesses of the cave, becoming a denizen of its age-old environs.

          Sleep passed from my being, and I awoke. As I did so, I shivered to drive a soft chill from my body. It was still raining, and a gloomy light embraced the room. I glanced over towards my dormant guest, strangely with a slight form of expectation. I knew he was dead, yet a small hope had issued from me. With a sigh of resignation, I rose to view the man’s corpse. Yanking the sheets from him, I beheld his sickly cadaver. It was of a pale and ashen quality that appeared to have been calloused due to the absence of life. I detected a mellow aroma of dried sweat, which ensued from his attire and from the fabrics I had tossed aside to the floor.

          I looked outside—at the waters falling from the sky. I wished it had not been raining, but I judged that it was within possibility that the weather might not clear up for quite some time, and I wanted to rid myself of the corpse. So I took it upon myself to initiate the task of burying his remains.

          I first brought the corpse outside to the entrance of my shelter, for I did not want his stench to begin to permeate my abode. I then decided to clothe myself with attire better suited for my drudgery and also claimed a spade to toil the sodden earth. As I left the security of my home, the rain at once dampened my heavy clothing and blinded my vision such that I had to squint to keep the rainfall from flailing my eyes when I looked up toward the sky. An atmosphere of stretched, muted fog clouded its upper regions while it steadily unleashed a torrent of rain. I picked up the frail body and half dragged it across the muddy expanse. While performing the task, I had to pause several times to reclaim my strength and orientation in the tumultuous weather. It was a demanding task to pull the body through the storm. The ground had turned to a miry quality, for it was thick with viscous mud, and rivulets of water flowed about its surface as a tangled film. Bits of debris and vegetation also congested my path, but I labored onward.

          When I deemed myself sufficiently distant from my home, I set the body down and began my work with the spade. It was an awful and cold chore. The rain lashed across my figure, and the wind surged with brutal intensity. My clothes were drenched, bringing a lasting chill and numbness to my person. And as I dug, I had to overcome the sliding of the wet earth. A deep pool of murky water came to fill my hole, and I had difficulty discerning its depth. Hours passed as I opened the grave, and I began to feel hunger rise within my stomach, but I pressed forward, setting aside the surmounting pangs of exhaustion and appetite.

          Persevering through my labors, I eventually finished enlarging my hole. I had no sense of how long I had been toiling under my conditions, for the sun was still heavily shrouded by cloud and rain, but I did come to notice a slight darkening of the skies. I brought my sight over to the man’s body, which lay motionless on the flooded ground. Pellets of rainwater battered his face and clothing, while mud and water ran along his slender outline. I could not say why, but it felt like it would be a pity to drive his body into the bowels of the earth. It seemed almost better to let him become swallowed by the elements at play, to let him be devoured and gorged by the tempest about him. But alas, I could not let the body return to the earth in such a ruinous fashion.

          Picking up the body, I moved it to my guest’s grave. The water that had accumulated in the pit I had opened prevented the cadaver from sinking properly in its grave, and I had to acquire several large stones to weigh it to the depths of the pit. Then, with the spade I had tossed aside, I began to fill the watery grave with the earth I had excavated, and as time sluggishly passed, I finally completed my burdensome chore. Upon its completion, I paused to lean against the handle of my spade, and after regaining myself, I made way back to my abode.

          I was most thankful when I arrived at my dwelling, for it shielded me from the harsh weather, and I began at once to toss firewood into the hearth. Before long, the warmth of the fire enveloped the cold room. After placing a pot of soup over the fire, I exchanged my waterlogged garments for those of a dried nature and sat in proximity to the fire, garbing myself with a fresh blanket. I closed my weary eyes and let strength restore to my body.

          A deep drowsiness overcame me, and I relaxed in my chair, allowing my attention to wane from the secure surroundings. Eventually, the fire fully drove away my chill, and I sat in my blanket until my soup began to boil, whereupon I removed the kettle from its flame to cool. When it was ready to consume, I ate the soup, and it settled well in my stomach.

          The skies had greatly darkened during the former hour, though some of the day’s dusky light still remained, and after my meal, I quit the day and retired to my bed.

          At first, an overpowering darkness sent my mind into a state of oblivion and confusion, clawing at my soul with the liquid strands of Night. It may have been mere moments as I stood in the atmosphere of bleak and cold perdition—I was unable to tell, being inwardly caged and distracted—but as my being began to take hold of the cave’s smooth blackness, I came to see the embodiment of this inner region and was set with a wholesome feeling of quiet peculiarity. Yet I was drawn to it, drawn to it as a moth is stolen by the flame.

          My ears suddenly caught hold of a rustling trickle of water flowing down into the heart of the cave. The sound echoed faintly against the subterranean walls, soft as a lame hymn. I stood there for many moments, just to listen to the spectral sounds, of their weird echoes and suggestive notions. It was almost a relief to behold their sounds, for they slid gracefully into my soul, calming my state of mind. I looked backwards and beheld a muted light, weakened by distance and by the nocturnal characteristics of the outer realm. But by this note, I knew that I had only begun to plunge into the depths of the subterranean earth. Turning toward the darkness, I began to delve further into it.

          Despite the darkness, I managed to stray relatively clear of the twists and turns of the cavern, for I heeded the steady call of the stream that ran alongside me. The cool air shifted slowly in the tunnel, serving my breaths with a brisk freshness that subdued my step to a slow beat. I began to lose my sense of time to the unerring gloom wrought about the cave. Only the water and the footfalls I created prevented me from being wholly depraved of time, but their methodical rhythms did not help me in discerning the duration of elapsed periods. Nevertheless, I soon felt as if I had begun to wander aimlessly in the unlighted passage. Though, I could not precisely say why, for I was still following the water’s current.

          At length, I became wearied and had to slow to a halt. As I slid against the cavern walls to the ground, my hands detected a slickness to the stone, smooth and moistened by the nearby stream. I sat there, listening to the running waters, how they crept endlessly into nothingness. But as I listened, more and more closely, I began to imagine hearing the clatter of a latent surge in a remote distance. I picked myself up and headed toward the fancied sounds. Each step I took seemed to bring me closer to the noises, and eventually, I came to believe that they really existed.

          I did not know how long it took me, paving my path through the thick darkness, but the whispered sounds of the water began to dress themselves as hollow roars, resonating as fleeting spirits within these cavernous confines. I picked up my gait, keeping my ears attuned to the rushing waters beyond, and eventually, a sepulchral light manifested not far off, breaking the omnipresent darkness. Without hesitation, I ran over to the source of light, and as I approached, it grew bolder and bolder. In due time, I began to see the faint luminescence glint upon the dark stream beside my path. And then, I reached it.

          When I arrived, I looked upward to discover the light source. It was the moon outside, sitting in the surface world, beaming with its great Eye. Its cool luster drove down through a deep fissure in the ceiling, penetrating a hundred feet of rock. The glow rejuvenated me, and I continued to follow the black river. Thankfully, the opened crack above persisted to run along the length of the tunnel. Soon, the stream I was following became broader as undetected undercurrents fed its bulk, becoming a mass more than twelve feet wide, and surely deeper. The river now churned at rapid speeds, and I was able to distinctly hear the thunder of the falls I had entitled myself to find. Then, at last, a vast bowl bred itself into sight, monstrous and gaping, where the river plummeted into shadowed abysses.

          I looked across and saw numerous other waterfalls sink into the gaping gorge from several sides. Below, the sweeping falls congregated into an immense river that dove onward into strange and forbidden recesses of the cave. I stood at the edge of the chasm, gazing into the midnight waters, listening attentively to the ghostly echoes of the falls. Mists of water were flung into the air, dousing me in cold, chilly water. Very suddenly and without forewarning, the rim I was perched upon broke free. I tried to catch the edge, but I only found moist and slippery holdings that flung me further down into the dark and rumbling ravine.

          I awoke with a start, breathing sharply, and I had to look about myself to restore my sense of composure by finding comfort in the secure, wooden walls about me. Midmorning sunlight shone through the room’s window, catching specks of floating dust in its beam. I got out of my bed and fit on proper attire for the morning’s moderate chill. As I dressed, I stared outside and viewed a vista of dampness. A light sprinkle was falling from the skies, and the ground was muddied from the weather, still guiding films of water along its surface. I could hear the river by my house gush powerfully with the added rainwater, and I shuddered for a moment when I came to link it with my dream.

          After I donned my garments, I left my room to go to the main quarters of my home, whereupon I helped myself to a meal of bread and dried meat. I ate in silence, and when I was done, I pulled a chair over to a window and sat staring outside, idly watching the misty rain fall through the air. The sun gradually bore upward, and the drizzle eventually faded away, leaving the sunlight to glimmer upon the wet earth. An hour or two passed, as I sat there gazing into nature, and I began to develop a desire to stroll outside in the recovering weather. I stood up and went over to the entryway of my home. Through the closed door, I felt a cold draft emanate from around its edges, and I opened the door, allowing the chilled air to weave through my clothing. I stepped outside and onto the mushy ground, but I was able to pave my path upon bits of risen stone scattered throughout the bemired land.

          When I turned the corner of my home, I saw the river that rushed past it, and I opted to head over toward its rocky banks. I slowly made my way to the river without any regard of time, concerning myself with surely placed footsteps and the tethering of my clothes to guard against the wind. Before long, I reached the jetting waters and squatted over it on a granite ledge. I leaned forward into its spraying mists and indulged myself in its noisome crashing. The waves bore foaming crests that whipped endlessly upon themselves, chipping away loose rock and dirt along the shoreline and plummeting them down into their white maws. All the while, the tumultuous waters slashed onto my ledge, splintering into broken strands of liquid to collect upon the puddled shelf.

          As I crouched there, a shred of flung water came up and bit me in the lip. Stroking my thumb across my mouth, I detected a diluted blemish upon its surface. Warily, I took a step back, holding an eye upon the flowing channel. Just then, the ledge I was upon crumbled asunder, fracturing itself from the rest of the rock.

          The chilling imprints of apparitions began to encompass the length of my shoulders and spine, and as I stared into those waters, I withdrew a latent shiver, for I fancied seeing them twist and weave in monotonous and hideous patterns which I could only describe as those of grasping hands. Instantly afterward, the illusion faded away, and I was left standing there with a dreadful sense of déjà vu. Not wanting to share any more time near those waters, I took flight and hurried home upon the muddied ground.

          I tumbled onto my bed when I got inside and stared at the ceiling above. The image of the waters kept recurring within my mind’s eye despite my best efforts to quell it. I thought that perhaps my imagination was at fault for my fright, but I still could not shake the feeling that it was not. In the end, I endeavored to fall asleep to dismantle my uncertainty.

          Cold and wet completely surrounded me, washing my entire body with tongues of ice. The glacial waters forced my eyes shut, and a sharp current was thrashing me in unknown direction. I found myself flailing against the liquids in panic, and my lungs were burning with a grand fire despite the waters’ frigidness. As I was struggling, the river jostled me into a slab of hard stone. In desperation, I grabbed at its smooth surface and eventually caught hold onto an outcropping of the rock. I began to pull myself along the surface in hopes that it would bring me above the water, for all I knew was that I could be climbing downward to my doom. Fortune was with me, and I soon emerged with a gasp of breath from beneath those lethal waters. I opened my eyes and beheld a ghastly gloom of penumbral light, and in it, I spied the glint of whirling rapids around me.

          Using what strength I had left, I hauled my body out of the river and fell upon the earthen shelf. As I lay there in the dank air, the cascading waters echoed loudly against dimmed walls, and I looked up against the current and saw the roiling falls not far in the distance.

          I started to squeeze the water out of my clothes as I sat there, shivering in the cold and listless cavern. I then huddled my legs to my chest, and I rubbed my arms and legs to ward against the feeling of numbness that was beginning to overwhelm my body. After what seemed to be countless, long minutes and hours, I regained a bit of energy and was able to get up upon my feet.

          The shadowed atmosphere slowed my reaction in discerning that the ledge of rock I was upon wound forward in a more or less level fashion. And behind me, the ridge appeared to be jagged or nonexistent at parts. However, the path that lay ahead grew darker as it traveled away from the lighted falls, for the fissured ceiling did not command its course along that direction. The inaccessibility of my former route provided me with the solitary choice of proceeding into the unlit tunnel ahead, leaving me with an almost intangible impression of fear, for I could only guess as to where the unbridled waters beside me made refuge.

          Nonetheless, as I journeyed along the path, my feelings of exploration returned, and I felt at ease once more. Overhead, the rock dove down to a meager height, and I had to be aware of its surface, lest I hit my head against its solid length. What little light I had darkened with each step I took into the underground alley, and even when utter blackness prevailed, I fancied seeing the accompanying river glint ever so subtly as speckled glints of bygone fireflies dancing and dying in an autumn night’s wind.

          Whether it was pure imagination or not, I was unable to tell, for as I traveled ahead, a dimly lit chamber expanded within the rocky underground, accompanied by a lone hole which protruded overhead, casting beams of light into the room. But beams they were not, for they appeared as white shadows that contrasted the deep night as they descended into this murky realm of sunless recesses. And the river, it swept through the chamber with its black crests, undulating savagely—twisting, turning, and breaking in the stalwart current. Even as the waters raced chaotically onward, I could see them glint as gleaming claws that painted the cavern walls with vague, wavering murals of recast light.

          I stopped underneath the tear in the ceiling and gazed up into its cavity, and I beheld the unwinking Eye stare into the waters, etching and engraving its image into the river’s vicious surface, and as I too stared into that river, I witnessed a chillingly queer illumination. For the moonlit waters reflected back to me my figure, but it was grotesquely altered.

          I appeared crooked and bent, and even amidst its ambiguously amorphic shape, I perceived myself as sickly deranged. The image prodded my mind with a queer sensation of alarm, and I could not help but look over at myself to confirm my eyes against such illusion. After recapturing a sense of self, I peered back into the waters only to discover darkness. The once present reflection of the moon was now gone, engulfing the room in opaqueness as its origin became masked by an unknown source.

          I now stood in utter darkness once again, and its ethereal, netted substance enclosed about my mind, tearing from me any security I had recollected these last few moments. I felt alone, and the gurgling of the current beside me did nothing to alleviate my mind. They instead brought upon me a surge of insidious tendrils that sent me further down a route of cold sentience. In the darkness, I peeled my eyes, looking all around in search of something other than the sable shadow of the air, and my ears, too, pried about as my sight became lost in the motionless atmosphere, hunting amidst the sullen clatter of echoing waves. Time passed slowly during those moments, stretching beyond the frozen contrast of the setting, and I began to lose myself in a mesmeric dementia. I was brought under the captivity of the restless waters, pulled beneath their monotonous and crazed secrets.

          And then there came a sound—a sound which could have only come from the starkest and wildest ravings of Night. And there were sights brought upon me, much like the fantastic and unstable images brought to mind from listening to the composed sounds of music—of their translucent shapes and indescribable colors. But this . . . this was of a queer and blood quickening note that sent an undesirable chill to beset the entirety of my body.

          The sound itself resembled something that I could only resort to describe as something created by ghastly apparitions of a most singular manner, for it was a sound that I deemed only capable of coming from such chimerical sources—a mental note that nothing, aside from pure fancy, would be able to muster into existence.

          It came at first as a mere tickling, a subtle hint that beckoned my unconscious being. At first, I cold not detect its ghostly presence, but soon, the coarse suggestion of a sound wholly manifested beyond the brink of reality, and it was then that I felt the tingling of a most subtle shudder fold slowly into my body.



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This is where I'm currently at in the story. I hope you enjoyed it so far.