Chapter 1: Don't Forget the Camera

1276 Words
It has been said, a story is best told by those who lived it. What if "they" dreamed it? After all, dreaming is part of living. Yet, what if the dreams were more than stories, more than wishes, or more than fantasy? What if dreams were just another realm of reality? The violent, indifferent buzzing of the alarm vibrated into my skull, unwilling to let me keep hold of that last breath of dream. It wasn't even one of those nice dreams that let you wake with a warm, fuzzy feeling. I sighed deep into my soul and grudgingly opened my eye as my hand found the alarm's off button. 6:15 a.m. "Why did I think this was a good idea?" Sitting up, as my feet searched for slippers, I stretched. My hand came to rest on a pair of gold rings attached to my necklace. Sighing, I took stock of the clothes and equipment I had set out the night before. Nothing special, a regular t - shirt, jeans, clean socks, and a full backpack. Knowing I had only set those things out because this was a hotel room and not my bedroom at home, made my heart sink a little. With a slight, sinking feeling, I realized I had finally stopped looking at the empty side of the bed. What was I even dreaming about? It wasn't very comforting, that was all I could remember. Turning on the light, I recalled how dreams had not always been my friend. As a child, I would wake the whole family with my screaming. Night after night. Nightmare after nightmare. My mother would ask, "What was it about," but I could never answer because voicing the dream would make it real. My dreams were full of strange creatures, fiery wings, and death. I would dream of falling through floors, of stars, of planets, trees, and places I had never been, but yet, seemed so familiar. Then, there were the nosebleeds accompanied by incredibly high fevers. After several visits to the emergency room and a stay in the hospital, doctors still could not find a cause. As time moved on, however, I seemed to grow out of the nosebleeds. As for the dreams, they all faded away. I shook my head to clear it, and blinked at myself in the mirror before grabbing my backpack and heading out the door. "Why am I even here?" Of course, I knew the answer. It had only been a few months since I had arrived in another country to start a new job and have a new beginning. In the years after I stopped having the dreams, I married and had children. They, in turn, grew and went off to University. Life was good. Like all good things, however, there comes an end. In my case, the good times ended abruptly when I found myself a widow on a sunny, spring day. I struggled for over a year to get back on my feet, finally finding a job to suit my needs. I decided to apply for an opening at an archeology company, where I would photograph and record sites and artifacts. This, my friends, is where the present story begins when I was put into a situation where I questioned every dream I ever had. "Ready, Thea?" Randal Shantz, a smiling, giant of a co - worker called from the waiting car. He ran a hand through his chocolate brown hair in an uncharacteristic show of impatience. I snapped out of my reverie in the early morning sun, and grabbing my equipment I called, "Yep, yep, I'm coming!" "Do you have everything?" my other companion, Sarah Cummings, questioned in a silky tone. Her intelligent, yet friendly, brown eyes fell on my backpack. "Yes," I mumbled, rolling my eyes while trying to avoid any further embarrassment. "Geez, I forget one thing, one time..." "Well, the camera is kind of important to the job," Sarah giggled as she turned around to face ahead, her black curls bounced out of control under a mustard coloured bandana. Randal joined in with good - natured laughter, and we were on our way. In excellent time, we arrived at the archeological site, an unassuming mound of grass and dirt, with mossy stone fences and large rocks spread over a small acre of land. A team of archeologists, historians, and specialists were already on the site and buzzing around like bees. As usual, a local farmer had started to clear the area for his stock and run into an impressive stone tunnel structure. At first, the farmer thought he could just move the stones and bury the tunnels, but he started having unexplained issues with his tractor, his car, and other equipment he brought to the area. After mumbling something about the "fairy folk" making their wishes clear, he called us and then left us to our work. Randal nodded towards the side of the moss - covered side of the structure, "We will need you in there today, Thea." "Lead on, my valiant companions," I teased. Randal smiled and bowed, and Sarah shook her head before turning and leading the way. "Don't encourage him," she warned. The three of us had become fast friends in the short time I'd known them. We followed the designated path around a stone wall, half - covered in dirt and moss. On the other side of the wall was another smooth, slate grey wall, which had collapsed against the first. In the narrow passage created by the two walls, there was a dark, narrow stairway leading further down into the earth. Carefully, the three of us squeezed down the stairs to the damp, dirt floor below. A few rays of sunlight found enough cracks in the rocks to illuminate the scene. In front of us stood an archway, as grey as all the other rock and stone on the site. It reached from the ground to at least two or three feet above Randal's massive frame. There were a series of intricate and unusual runes that lined the entire curve of the arch. "Photograph the doorway, and make sure you get close - ups of all the runes," Sarah read off her clipboard. "Randal, you and I have to assist Dr. Alderson at that other entrance to this tunnel." Randal pointed to my necklace, "You should put that in your bag. You don't want to lose those." "Oh, right. Thanks," I quickly slipped the rings into an inner pocket of my backpack. With a nod and a wave, we all went our separate ways and got to work. I pulled my camera from my backpack and fell into a rhythm. Focus. Click. Next. Focus. Click. Next. It only took what seemed like a matter of minutes to photograph the archway and runes. As I looked over the photos, I took pride in how clear the photos turned out. Suddenly hearing footsteps, I looked up ready to share my success with a co - worker. No one was there, approaching or leaving. "Hey guys, I'm done," I called. Still no movement. I caught a shadow down the hall and stepped through the archway to meet whoever was coming through the other entrance. "Has anyone photographed this section yet?" It was awful dark in the hallway, and I immediately started to feel uncomfortable in the silence. I turned to go back up the hallway, stumbling over a few objects hidden in the shadows. I bent down to take a look. "Oh my God," I gasped as a sense of horror stabbed my heart. I flew backward and scanned the area further. "Bones!"
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