Stone Heart by Charles Jameson

Author:Charles Jameson [Jameson, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Charles David Jameson
Published: 2016-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

The hole in the fence was where they left it—or was it? Daniel discounted it as Lucy messing with his head. But, the entrance appeared to have shifted, a meter further along the fence than before. Gone through the opening the boys moved slowly, with Milton in the lead.

Night fell on them rapidly. The horizon swallowed the sun and its last rays of light. It soon disappeared from sight, like a fading halo in the distance. With the sun gone the construction yard remained modestly illuminated, awash in the block's street-lamp's eerie fluorescent glow.

“So where is it?” Daniel wondered how a feature like an excavation could go unnoticed. Quite easily he discovered.

“It's just over here. Near where we climbed up the side of the church.” Milton beckoned for Daniel to continue following him. He didn't stop walking until the pair reached a low stacked pile of two by fours. They were covered by one of the site's massive blue work tarps, ostensibly situated to provide work crews an easily accessible cache of supplies while renovating the church.

“You can't be serious?” Daniel prodded disbelievingly.

“Hiding in plain sight,” said Milton, with a laugh. He proceeded to a corner of the tarp where a large spike pounded into the ground made sure the wind hadn't lifted it. Using both hands and the tarp for leverage, he yanked. With the metallic scraping sound of stone against steel the spike came loose. When Milton pulled the tarp back, a wide pit lay before them.

Looking at its top Daniel now understood how they'd maintained the illusion that nothing was there. Long slats of wood lay covering the length and width of it, but for a small section of excavated stairs leading down into the gloom. These slats allowed the workers to stack the two-by-fours on top of the covered section. It also accounted for why the two-by-fours were not stacked at a great height. The slats of wood, weakened by ground moisture, sagged under the weight of the scant few that covered them.

Milton bubbled with childish glee. “Sick, how cool is this?”

Daniel agreed, “Very.”

Milton again took the lead descending the stairs until only his disembodied head floated above the entrance. He asked, “You coming?”

Daniel started towards the stairs to join Milton.

But before he could begin his descent Milton stopped him, saying, “Remember though, while we're down here, don't look into the dark for too long.” His eyes glittered as he spoke.

For once, Daniel knew the phrase. “Because it looks back,” he answered.

Contrary to their lofty banter, they found it was not the dark that proved an impediment, so much as the dangerously slippery and slight steps they trod on. Their design, although pragmatically chosen for the small space, cut into the ground at an extreme incline. They provided meager foot-holds: more like a ladder than stairs.

Luckily they did not go blindly. Dug into the excavation's walls of clay were small alcoves. Placed within were wick burning oil lamps; they created small pockets of orange lambent light, like a path of will-o-wisps disappearing into the darkness.

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