cast out into nowhere

step into another world for a moment

                                         The cast out into nowhere

(1658 in Southern Africa near the Namibian desert)

It began with slow breaths and tired legs. Then a huge sigh come over their spirits and weakening bodies. Through the aching pain they had walked, Dragging their feet without resting. For hours they took one slow step after the other, for hours none spoke to the other. They pushed through the desert sand with dust stealing the air around them. They felt sand touching their fingers, with small stones stinging their hands, and giving away the feeling of hot needles piercing the flesh. Droplets of blood flew away from their hands leaving them numb. Their rifles weight heavily on them as they dragged the weapons across the sand leaving behind trails of wobbly lines, while passing wind swept away each trail they made. Their black leather boots easily sank in and out of the soft grounds. The strong breeze held their long coats with each blow. Some coats where black, somewhere brown, yet they all floated like cloaks, with the dust covering their clothes with dirt. The winds of desert sand had been blowing furiously with hot air since their journey began. The hollow echoes of almost a hundred chores sang in their ears. The wetness of weeping waters of salt flowed down their concealed cheeks. They all had cloths covering their mouths. They all had cloths covering their foreheads. They all had glasses over their eyes, but it was still not enough. Not when Mother Nature feels angry like a jealous woman. Her rage was merciless and violent. The roaring winds and the hot sun made them feel her wrath. Their lips had turned dry. But they did not care. Not now, not when they were this close to their destination. All that mattered to them was surviving the rather rare desert storm. Their reasons for risking their lives taking such a journey were of mixed emotions. For the professor it was all about the thrill of finding new treasure. For the farmer it was about wealth. For the slaves it was a matter of obey or be punished later at night. But then there was another one. A holy man, and to the holy man it was more than just a journey. It was a matter of spiritual need. He felt as though a curse had be fallen him. He always felt like he was turning mad. He had a feeling that something was after him. He felt it in his thoughts. He heard it from the hissing sounds. He heard it in the whispers coming from behind his ear. The whispers always caused him to turn quickly in fear. A strange voice pleaded to him. Warming his heart with pity, 'Release me... Release me, please’, it cried out miserably. He felt its pain with every promise it showered upon him. The promises were plenty. Till one day it made a promise he found hard to turn down. It promised him his dead wife. But he was wary. He did not know who was making these promises, an angel or a creature of darkness. In his dream is where he saw the voice's shadow. He was closing a window at night when he noticed it through the reflection of the mirror, standing behind him, standing silently. He could see the shadow standing in a dark corner with its red eyes staring back at him. He has been resisting the edge to embrace its courtship on his soul. But every man lusts and every man desires something. 'The shadow knows this very well', the holy man admitted to himself once. 'It knows the deepest darkest desires, even those of faithful men'. He was not wrong. The idea of bringing back his wife had him under the shadow's spell for a brief moment. He wanted to fulfill its plea to be released. He wanted to see her smile. Smell her scent in the morning. He yearned to touch her skin one more time. He always thought she was taken so unfairly by death. Peace and everlasting rest is where she was taken. He slept alone and closed his eyes every night hoping she would come to his dreams and tell him she loved him even in death. Loneliness was

no jewel worth wearing around neither his neck nor his heart. But loneliness and greed was what motivated him to believe he could bring her back. A drop of water came from the ceiling, falling to his forehead. He broke free from the clutches of such evil thoughts. "Why would you want to take someone out of heaven?"- The holy man questioned himself, watching the drop gently flow down his forehead. Every drop was as though the children of the sky were crying for him, begging him to stop. They were trying to save him. Trying to remind him he had forgotten she was at a better place. With a great relief he had somehow been awakened from his hypnosis. The thoughts had taken him to endless patterns of story-lines latching on to his sanity like leeches on dead skin. He was a possessed man with a mind so clouded by darkness; he was losing touch with everything around him. Terrible danger preyed as wild dogs would a wounded animal in the wild. One wrong step and one slip he could get lost in the desert. He had forgotten he was walking in a sand storm; the thirst had caused him to start remembering too much. He did not even notice they had arrived at their journey. The people he came with stood there looking at him. He had been staring at a strangely sealed item and did not even notice them calling to him. The group of men stood on the stairs leading into a strange cave. He slowly followed them into the cave down the rocky stairs. They each took off their cloth from their faces slowly. They felt cool air begin to fill their lungs, but it was still not pleasant, it reeked of dead caucus. Their ears heard the noises of a hundred bats hovering above their heads. Moving eyes watched them from cracks in the walls. In silence the eyes watched. The group of men sensed what many men's souls questioned. Cursed what many eyes would curse. The fires of torches light up to reveal mystery that slept in the dark. That one glance had taken away all they knew about the world. Something inside each one of them died with the fading darkness of the cave. The rocky walls revealed paintings of creatures from the unknown. The markings told stories of over a hundred lost centuries. An ancient world that remained buried in the desert. A world that existed before the rise of many empires, Empires that were documented in today's modern era. Rumors are filled with mouths of lies, but eyes always show you the truth. The imagination may show you strange things. But it can never defend itself from questions. Only insane men believe in their imagination. They are the ones who think up foolish things. But no foolishness can come from what the eyes show the heart. No matter how much things seem unreal. No man has to dare quest in search of such a world. Not even if it takes a holy man and five strangers to make you believe of its existence. Only fools believe and chase after unseen treasure hoping it‟s real. Was what they found treasure or history? Would somebody really go through all this trouble creating lies? - Some wondered. How can it be that a world this cave spoke of could be all a lie? Its past could not be measured. Its present could never come close enough to being envisioned by anyone from such a world. All that was left of it and its history was a cave, A mere stinking cave, Ravaged by spider webs on tall dusty shelves, Squeaking rats moving around in silence, and bats hiding in the dark roof. Some shelves were half empty with scrolls, while others were filled with scrolls. Very old human bones wearing ragged robes and a torn pointy hat lied on top of more scrolls, others covered in dry blood others were just scattered on the floor. Maps of the ancient landscapes of this lost world were nailed to the walls. They were not familiar to any of the men exploring in the cave. They were caught in the mist of something bigger than them. 'But what of the voice?’ asked the holy man to himself in silence, but he had no answer. The discovery of this cave was made on March 19th 1658. A day the holy man and seven other individuals walked across a burning desert storm together. But now they stood in the historical cave feasting their eyes. None saw the same thing. They were all of different faith. The holy man believed in a higher power and saw all this as blasphemy. Others were superstitious and saw it as works of demon worshipers. But only one did not see the cave the way they did. He was a curious individual, a man who lived for the thrill of exploring and unfolding the mysteries of the unknown. He was different from the other group. He perceived what people did not understand as a treasure, not a curse. The desire to one day die with history recognizing him was all that pushed him in life. The others

simply went through life blinded by tradition and ideals. They had nothing in common with him and he had nothing in common with them. But they all stood side by side. There was Phillip Humphrey, a twelve year old boy, with black hair and dark brown eyes. He looked like a mindless boy in his oversize dirty shirt and brown shoes. They had holes at the toe site of his left foot. His father was John Humphrey, a farmer with a short black and grayish beard. He brought along four of his dark skinned slaves. Then there was the curious one. He was more than just a person; he was a famously known as Charles Burke. A man admired by many around the world. He was what most women referred to as a handsome man, but they never understood is intellect. He was more than just dashing good looks, a charming stature and perfectly cut brown hair with brown eyes and a thing face. He was admired because at the time he was truly one of the most intelligent and most brilliant explorers and scientist of his generation. After taking almost six steps towards the center of the cave, the Professor stood and looked around. There was still light coming from up the top of roof. He felt as though he was in the golden chamber of Ruben Marchelli, the Archbishop of a small church in the town of Clovert. The Professor's curious eyes were amazed by all that displayed before him. He remembered that very moment as the day every perspective he ever had about all the knowledge he had on life, being forever changed. His eyes glanced around noticing old markings, strange drawings and words written on the cave walls in a language not even spoken today in a handwriting not even written today. The cave walls sang out echoes of sounds made by every cautious step that he and the group of people he came with him took. Not even a small mouse could dare escaped silently in this smelly odd cave. The person responsible for discovering the cave was Phillip Humphrey. The poor boy was chased by a pack of hungry Hyenas in his father's woods. The savage dogs chased him till he reached the rocky desert mountains that were not too far from the woods edge of the Humphrey's large acres of land. He fell into this unfortunate predicament after getting separated from his older brothers, Jan and William Humphrey. They were simply out hunting. They never saw any harm in it all. They never thought it would come down to them left in despair. He was lucky to escape death. He was able to out ran the pack purely out of fear, but he accidentally stumbled upon the cave after falling into it from the top of the roof while trying to escape the hungry pack. The cave seemed to have been buried under ground somehow. And somehow he had managed to fall into the cave, without ever breaking a single bone. Not even a slight scratch. But still his luck seemed worthless at the time for hunger and the coldness of midnight seemed to await him. Only falling to death seemed sweeter, you die and never struggle for warmth; you die and never starve to death in darkness. But he didn't die to his dismay. He could not get out the dark cave. He decided to walk around poking blindly till he found sticks, rocks and papers lying on the floor. Then he wisely made a fire to keep warm and ate the rats to survive the hunger. He began to explore the cave with a burning stick and found a torch covered in a dusty black cloth. He used the stick to light the torch and an even greater light appeared. While he was amazed by the art within the dark mysterious cave filled with silent bats and silent rats. The search for him had already begun. Crying dogs came bursting through the bushes. Running men came panting through the dying grass. They were soon led to the desert by the howling beasts, one black and one brown. Their wet noises smelled the air till their aching paws touched warm sand. They stopped and looked at their masters with glaring black eyes. Each dog looked to the side waiting to see if the masters thought it was safe. For even beasts know deserts and valleys are dangerous territory. Jan gave the order, and the dogs began running into the water-less wilderness. It took them three agonizing days searching for Phillip. They are after all his flesh and blood. They all cherished him and loved him. There was neither jealousy nor bitter feeling towards his innocence. That sort of love he only got from his mother and two brothers, not his father. But still the stubborn man helped the two young men search for the blasted child. After three agonizing days, they had only one dog left with them, but finally found the boy in the cave, but the beast died from running thirsty in the hot desert sun, it watched its two brothers fall to the ground. The boy's father was strangely relived his son was still alive and well.

But he was then surprised by the cave, a cave he never knew existed, which still seemed to be on the Humphrey's territory, greedily enough. Phillip's father, John Humphrey was a trust worthy man who was full of faith, but Phillips grandfather Ryman Humphrey was a deceitful old grump head and John Humphrey wondered whether the old fool died knowing about the cave. But then there was more to the cave. Much, much more, for while Phillip Humphrey was down there he found something else, something that could shape the passage of time as we know it, something that dated a time unknown. That very something he found was documented in an oddly large dirty book, a book about an empire, an empire that fell and rise and fell once more, but this time never to be heard from again. An empire far more mythical than any other story ever told in history. But why was the tale of this empire hidden from the passage time? One may ask himself, while the other wonders. The priest, Francesco DeLelli, along with the boy‟s father, John Humphrey, was very fearful and confused by the book's strange stories of worlds long lost. The two men each spend three days reading the book and two more days trying to figure out what their God believing eyes had seen. First the boy read it and he gave it to his father, then the father read it and gave it to the priest and the priest read it and had it send back to the very pit it came from. A few months past and Francesco DeLelli decided to write a letter about the mysterious book to Professor Charles Burke. The priest was a very skeptic man when it came to such matters, but the horrific tales and future predictions that the book spoke of gave him many sleepless nights of questions he wanted answered. It was almost as if his spirit had been baptized in oil of fear and utter terror. The trembling would not go away. He felt watched; he felt something hiding in the dark corner of his room every night, staring back at him, crying whispers to him, whispers to set it free. He told no one of this matter, he wanted to be absolutely sure he had a reason to feel frightened. But then what he suspected was responsible for this nightmare was a very strange item the boy had found in the cave during his terrible ordeal. Phillip and his brothers pleaded with their farmer father to stop the priest from destroying the book, the item and the cave. And so John had the priest bring someone with an expert view to decide if truly what they found was nonsense and should be destroyed or it was a treasure worth sharing with the modern world. The day of this truth had finally come, It took Charles Burke two months to get here by ship and it took Francesco and John two months to wait for him as patient as two turtles watching snails crossing a field. After walking and glancing around the cave Professor Burke took the large book from a table that everybody had read and placed after two days of each reading it. He looked at the books outside cover; it was made of brown leather, with torn edges and symbols of crows, swords and leaves. There was a blood stain on the sides of the book's pages. He slowly opened the book and read the first page, then he jumped to the middle page and then went to the last two pages, his eyes were quickly browsing the endless paragraphs of lines made from someone with a strange yet articulate hand writing. The language in the book was pure medieval English.

Professor Burke shook his head and then closed the book. “What have you people brought before me?"

Francesco DeLelli and John Humphrey looked at each other for a moment. "We thought perhaps you may be able to tell us, Professor." John Humphrey replied hesitantly.

"What these people have found is a blasphemy not only to historians but also to the church." Francesco DeLelli said angrily as he looked at a small coin with the head of Julius Caesar on it." What is a god to these kings this book speaks of, where are these beasts they so bravely fought and what god gives mankind such a weapon?"

Francesco DeLelli pointed at the dirty book." I refuse to believe such an era ever exist Professor Burke. How can it be that such men walked the earth and did all these things?"

The Professor stared at the priest then smiled." Hmm! The Greeks, the Romans, the Chinese are one of history's most respected ancient civilizations. They formed empires that exceeded human imagination; their stories were written and well documented. Everybody knows about them."

The priest interrupted him. "But this can't be allowed to be read by anybody else in the world, it must never leave this cave."

Professor Burke kept quiet a bit then sighed and looked at the priest and then at farmer and his son. “It truly saddens me to know I have been an explorer for so long and traveled so much yet a tale like this has never crossed my ears, not even a whisper of it. Nobody in the world today will believe such things. We would be seen as mad men for presenting such things as an actual historical relic."

The professor closed his eyes as if to think and then he opened them and he stared at the dirty table. What interested him was the item placed on it, next to the book. He looked at it with an amused face with his left eyebrow raised a bit. The item was a scroll, a scroll that had no lock, had no seal, did not seem to be glued together but was somehow sealed.“But how” - The professor asked himself in silence. He picked up the scroll and assessed it very carefully. Suddenly he heard whispers in his head. Whispers he and only he alone could hear.

The farmer noticed Processor Burke's mind was somehow hypnotized by the scroll; he called out to him with a worried tone. "Professor Burke! Are you alright?”

But the professor did not respond.

Suddenly the professor whispered like a possessed man. "We must open the scroll." His face had a sickening grin.

The priest grabbed the scroll." Do not listen to the madness this scroll speaks you atheist curious fool."

The priest threw the scroll on the floor and it rolled into a fire the slaves made using one of the torches in the cave. The slaves quickly backed away from the fire panicking. The boy and his father had never once touched the scroll, so they never knew that the scroll was cursed. But Francesco DeLelli knew, and so did Jan and William Humphrey, that's why they pleaded for the scroll not to be destroyed. But Francesco resisted its dark allure and now he had saved Charles Burke from the voices full possession.

The Professor snapped out of his possession. He looked a bit lost.

Francesco DeLelli looked at him with motionless eyes." Am sorry Professor, but surely even an atheist such as you can see that this must all die here... Believe me we are doing the world a great favor."

The priest turned to get the book and burn it too but John Humphrey called out to him stuttering. “Uhmm… Father... Father DeLelli”

Francesco DeLelli stopped and looked at John Humphrey, he saw the farmer‟s son pointing at the fire but he could not see anything because one of the slaves were blocking the priest view with their leg. The priest looked at everyone while walking back to the fire and noticed their eyes were all full of shock. He walked closer to the fire.

He too got shocked.

"The scroll resists the fire master Humphrey." One of the Slaves muttered.

Then John grabbed Phillip by the neck as though he was no son of his. "What sort of madness have you found this time you foolish boy."

Professor Burke shouted. “John, stop it."

John restrained himself from inflicting any harm to Phillip."Leave the boy, he has found a great treasure a treasure kings would pay you many gold coins to have in their libraries, this is truly a wonder of the world." The professor then took the book and sat by a rock.

The priest shook his head with great disappointment. "You're making a big mistake Professor Burke."

The priest then pointed a finger at him. "This desert storm is going to go on for three days, that's how long it took all of us to read the book, so read it Professor, read the madness of your so called wonder of the world and tell me if this tale of eight worlds, filled with riddles, plagues of death, these vengeful kings and the wrath of shadow and fire... Read then tell me if this is something you truly want people of this world to remember your legacy by." He spit on the floor in disgust. "Such madness, the holy church will have your head for this." He walked away angrily.

Everybody else in the cave went and sat by the large fire made by the slaves, everybody but Professor Burke. He sat alone by a torch he placed between some rocks and took out a smoke pipe and turned it on. Then he opened the very first page of the very first story and whispered its title.

"Riddles of the king's poem."