The Spooky Cave

"A wind always howls through the valley. Never stopping, no relief.  

"It is loudest if you stand at the cave's entrance. Some say the howl turns to scream when you get close enough. But I’ve never dared to get that close. Or maybe the time I crept as close as I could with a electric chill immobilizing my body, I didn’t listen right. I don’t have an ear like the musicians and poets of the land.

“The howl? No one really knows where the it comes from.

"Most people, myself included, think the sound originates from the cave. But some think it is the wind sweeping through the valley and reflecting off the cave’s walls changing the sound as it amplifies the windy cry. But that view isn’t too popular, and is made to deny the cave’s unexplained magick.

“and even when the clatter of wind settles, the howl stays strong.

“The cave's cursed. Some think the howl protects a treasure of immeasurable fortune. A few, gifted with a blessing of music, call the cave a Goddess's haunt. They sit imitating the howl as sapphic melodies lamenting the river's endless flow and cosmic depth.

“Or something, I try to keep my distance from the workings of Sirens.

"Whatever it is, the cave is well-known. I have twice stood in the chill of the entrance, never getting too close. How the currents of air shift; pull and push; spiral all around.

"Where can you find it? The cave rests deep in a wooded draw. The draw is a place of waste. The hunting sours and pooled water turns alkaline.

"Unless you mean the cave and not the cave. The cave is not the hole in a valley but the town's hole-in-the-wall tavern. The company here is as sour as the water near the cave, and the drinks are as basic.

“But you know this. Shall we have another? No?

"Never. I never went in. Their are a few willing to venture in. Some to search for riches, others knowledge. Some look for a blessing. The funny thing is, most who go in come out, and keep on living.

“Just because a body survives doesn’t guarantee a life you want to live.

“If you know where to look, you’ll see no one escapes the cave unscathed. You can hear the smallest of changes in their voice, see it in the glint of their eye. It is a pressure in the mind, just behind the eyes.

“You can feel the change between the sheets, too.

“Slowly madness corrupts, leaves the body hollow. A shadow of what it was. From where I sit, your lucky few are the ones that never return haunted, but linger in the cave to haunt.

“They are lost, swallowed by the magick, their bodies turned to shadow.

“Cursed, their voices join the howl, endless and immortal. The old, old stories claim the howling only began after the cave stole a soul. Lost souls are an incredible source of energy, you know, of course. Could you imagine it? Lost, displaced from your body and spirit, wondering and nothing more.

“Never escaping the violent hum in the air.

"Those who come out of the cave claim when all outside light is extinguished you can see a different light. Disembodied, the light, like none other, swirls creeping along the dark currents of air and sound.

“The cave’s light is to be feared.

“It hollows the body into shadows.

“The hollowing burns like steel on winter’s coldest eve.

“The shadow is even more mysterious than the cave.

“Full of scorn and venom, shadows corrupt the sanctity of the dark

"Shadow’s are contoured by the light's kiss, and have this terrible horizon. Nothing escapes the shadow's horizon.

"I’ve only met one shadow. They taught me much, telling me how they were meat and bone once before entering the cave and cursed to serve as puppets dancing by the pull of the light in the cave.

"And they howl for their freedom as their strings are pulled.

“They howl to pull others towards, tempt life to be bound in the twine of light.

"But that is all I know about that. Except for...No...I have talked for too long. You must be bored.

“Okay...

"The shadow I met broke from their puppet's strings. But it lead to further torment. Their despair bled out from their horizon as all paths returned to the dancing puppets. Each time they set out moving in different directions, it did not matter.

They always returned to where their snaped strings whipping around in the howl as the puppet show continued.

"Once the shadow found sleep and a dream. It was only then that they awoke at the entrance much different than they remembered.

“They entered the cave on the side of a hill surrounded by prairie; the river flowing as a trickling rill. But the water continues to flow, moving the earth. As time passed, the hill became a valley and the stream became a rushing white cascade at the valley's bottom. Now, the river's dimmed to a trickle once again.

"Not sure what happened to that shadow. They are gone now. To the dark, they said. I couldn't follow. Or so they said. But I say never trust a shadow. And with their tale finished, they left me in the cave named after the cave.

"And the grimy dark of the cave, my friend, is where I find myself stuck. 

"But it’s not all bad. You know, the dark gets a bad rap. It’s a sanctuary gifting reprieve, rest, and escape. The dark does not need to be fear. The dark is where dreams live and shadows wither.

"I may long for a break.

“An escape from the drink. 

"My soul does weeps, sinks.

“But in the dark of the cave, I can live in the shadow of the cave avoiding ever becoming a shadow.

“It’s howl will never get me. I drink to find the dark.

“As long as I dream I find hope.

“My own strings tighten as my dreams shutter. I drink more and only enter total darkness.

“Each time I wake, the light is more vibrant.

“With the drink stealing my dreams, I quake.

“I am lost, but remain whole.