Thing-a-Day Jan 23 #28 - Sash {Part 4: Light}

Sash

Part 4: Light

February 18th, 1847. It was a bitter, cold morning at the entrance to the Lucky Mine. Clancy, Harold, and Elliot stood on the boulder just inside the hastily-reinforced hole in the hill. The other miners had been granted the day off with pay, and Clancy was offered triple his daily wage to be present for the initial exploration. He had fully equipped himself before heading to the Delta for a quick meal.

"I still don'know why it smells like roses in here." Elliot mentioned. "Could be somethin' fell in through a natural openin' an' plummeted into the dark below."

"I don't know, Elliot. The scent is sweet, but it doesn't carry a bitter note like flesh-rot does." Harold said. "No, this smells like something living."

While the two men were discussing the strange scent, Clancy was beginning his descent into this unknown void. Their conversation carried on and was quickly muffled into echoes by the distance. The light streaming in provided just enough visibility to see that he was dropping into a natural chasm formed by a flowing underground river. Smooth walls with little variation. Two-hundred feet down, he couldn't see the bottom, but he could hear the distant sound of rushing water. Looking up, he could barely make out the light from the entrance.

Another hundred feet or so, and he could clearly hear rushing water, but carried on that sound was the rhythmic sound of a drum. Like the deer-skin drums the Natives play. The sound echoed through this chasm and, indeed, through himself as well. It unnerved him, hearing this slow, pacing rhythm. He continued to descend. The scent of roses here gave way to something else. It was a lush, verdant smell that caused him to momentarily reminisce on the sprawling pine woods in the Sierra Nevada Range.

Another hundred-fifty feet, and his boots finally rested on what felt like a smooth surface. No light. Just sound. Instinctively, through carefully practiced motions, he released his weight from the rope, crouched down to touch the surface, and then crossed his legs and sat. The stone felt cold... dry... smooth. Was he at the floor of the void? He had no idea. However, he closed his eyes and meditated on the information that his senses were feeding him for a moment.

The rope hung limply from above next to him in the darkness. Thoughts began to invade Clancy's meditation, Was it four-hundred feet? Five? Where did this chasm lead to? What grand mysteries await? Will we find silver here? How will we construct a manway for the other miners to descend? Is this place sacred? Dangerous?

In a moment, the drum beat ceased. On the remaining sound of a distant waterfall, Clancy heard something else. Was that a howl? No, not enough of a rise. A scream? Maybe, but it didn't sound like a person. It must have been the wind.

He reached into the pouch slung across his chest and fished out a rolled cigarette, a box of matches, the Sash Candlestick Holder and one candle. First, he lit his cigarette with a match and, hoping to use the flame to see his surroundings, looked around. Utter darkness aside from himself and the rope. Not even the stone on which he sat reflected light back at him. What was that black stone Dr. Parrish talked about? Basalt? I wonder if this is basalt.

He took a long drag and coughed slightly while setting up the Candlestick in the glow of his cigarette. Striking a match, he winced at its brightness. The flame touched the cobalt blue candle. Why is the flame blue?

A feeling of dread washed over Clancy as the blue flame cast a deep violet light in all directions, revealing the precarious ledge on which he sat. On the wall five feet in front of him, a face, painted in bright orange, was looking at him. He reeled back and fell into the pit behind him.

Clancy landed with a thud. Five feet at most, he reassured himself. I only fell five feet. He looked up. The light cast from the entrance was now a dull, grey speck, and the blue glow from the cobalt candle revealed the smooth walls of this chasm. He stood, climbed out of the pit, and let out a heavy sigh as he examined this face painted on the cold stone.

It was an accurate painting with uncanny detail. It looked three-dimensional, but when Clancy reached out to touch it, all he felt was the smooth wall. This painting felt warm, though, as if a flame had recently kissed this wall. He looked up again and let out a sigh, That's going to be a helluva climb out. Let's see what else is here. I think I'll go...

His line of clear thought was interrupted abruptly when he looked back down at the face and realized that it was facing to the right. He was startled by this and stepped backward again, falling back into the pit. He landed with a thud. Ten feet?

The rhythmic sound of the drum could be heard once again.