The Cave of Lost Lovers
#6 of One Shots
The Cave of Lost Lovers
(No one is allowed to take credit for this work apart from me. If you want to use it somehow, I would appreciate it if you were to get in touch with me first.)
(A very brief, dark oneshot I thought up some time ago. It's not brutal, gory, or explicit in any way... you might call it a chilling ghost story, of sorts. You'll have to let me know what you think of it when you're done, but for now, let's rock and roll.)
Suggested Music: Gorgoroth: Exit - Through Carved Stones, Will to Power; Dargaard: Thy Fleeing Time, Of Broken Stones, Underworld Domain
Suggested Drinks: Water
Suggested Eats: Roast beef and Swiss cheese sandwich
Suggested Smokes: Don't smoke! It's bad for you!
Darkness had dominated his life for a very long time, by then, and so it was rare when he met with environments so dark that they strained his vision.
And yet there he was, in an abyss so apart from the Sun that closing his eyes as good as opening them. He used his ears and sense of touch in lieu of sight, and they allowed him to move around and do as he desired--but how he longed to see. How he longed to see more than earth and stone and dust--how he longed to see flesh, warmth, softness, and...
He shook his head. He would see all that and more when he found what he was looking for.
And so he resumed his work.
He had gotten good at it, after so much practice, and so he used his shovel and his pickaxe and his bare hands to move rock without even thinking about it. He switched between the tools he had given himself and the tools nature had given him whenever he needed to in order to maximize efficiency, and in such a place, he had to switch tools often.
He had neglected to dig there for a long time; the odds that what he sought was there were so low that he checked every other possibility before checking that one. But he had exhausted all other opportunities--so, recently, he had started to break down the toughest and most irregular rocks he had ever seen in his life.
He cut himself, then--a sharp chunk of stone sliced through the skin on his palm and drew blood--but he ignored it. His hands were already cut to pieces and heavily calloused and he felt no pain regardless. He just kept digging, as he'd always done, and he kept thinking about her.
Even then, after so much time and so much pain, the mere memory of her brought a smile to his face, and why not? She was a beautiful girl, with curly blond hair and rust colored fur and an upturned snout. Her face positively shone always, but when she laughed, Heaven itself radiated from her face. She was one in a billion, and that's why he had been looking for her for such a long time: she was worth every second of suffering and darkness and solitude that he endured.
People thought he was crazy for it, but he didn't care. He didn't care that they called him the caveman, or the madman, or less polite terms--he was going to find her no matter what, and he knew that every rock he moved brought him closer to her.
And so he kept digging. He kept moving rock and then, suddenly, something gave.
An instability had been exposed, then, and it was quickly corrected by a torrent of pebbles and boulders and dirt. But when he had exposed that instability, he had seen something--an opening, a cavern, and light. And so he struggled against that torrent with every ounce of strength in his body. He left his pickaxe and his shovel and he forced his body through that deadly stream--and then he fell.
But not far. After pulling his body through the opening he'd created, he lost his balance and he tumbled downward for perhaps five feet. The impact wasn't severe, but it was painful and disorienting enough that when he stood up and looked around, a moment later, he believed that his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Gems were around him. Gems and crystals and diamonds of every sort and size and color and shape. Ages ago, that cavern must have been subjected to so much heat and pressure that mundane stone had been converted to the multi-faced prisms that glowed in the darkness all around him.
He was incredibly lucky to witness such a wonder. For several moments, the multi-colored light and bright in the crystal cavern entranced him, obsessed him--but then something far more rare and far more beautiful than any stone caught his eye.
He had found her. After so much time and pain and trouble and hurt and difficulty, he had found her. And she was beautiful, still, though she couldn't possibly still be warm--he felt wetness come to his eyes and registered that his breath had caught in his throat a moment before and then he ran to her side.
She was as remembered her, as he'd left her. Her dress was still sleek and beautiful and untouched by time and the elements, and the same was true for her body--more or less. Her flesh and her fur had been preserved, somehow; they were not warm but they were soft to the touch regardless. And although her hair disintegrated when he ran his fingers through it, he found her every bit as beautiful as he had when they had both been teenagers all those long decades before.
He was caressing her in arms both toughened and weakened by stone and time, and he believed that if she knew that, she would look past the beard on his chin or the few white strands of hair left on his head. She would look past the coarseness of his fur and the way his stripes had sort of streaked and grayed, over time, and she would have seen the love he had always held for her in his eyes.
After all--he looked past the fact that she had been mummified. He ignored the fact that her lips fell apart into ash and dust as he kissed her, tenderly, and he handled her body so gently and lovingly that it retained a coherent form.
He realized, after a moment, why she hadn't rotted--it was for the same reason that he couldn't catch his breath still. The rockslide had closed the crystal cave off from the rest of the world, again, and so quickly what air remained in it was becoming unbreathable.
He only had a few minutes left--he only had a few minutes left with her, and that saddened him, but at least he would die with her in his arms. At least his last act would be to hold her close and kiss her on the lips again.
Shortly after that, he lost consciousness. In his eternal sleep, he reclined, and in doing so, he maneuvered her until she was resting on top of him.
In time, he, too, would become mummified by the lack of oxygen and the darkness. And as no one would search for him, no one would ever, ever disturb him and his lover, forever locked together in their cave.
(Barely over a thousand words... huh. I figured it would be a little longer than that.
Anyway, what do you think? I believe it's not bad for having precisely two scenes, no backstory apart from vague implications, no dialogue, extremely limited action, and no description to get in the way of the dark ambience I hope I portrayed.
I guess the reason I didn't use much description was so that you would be able to create your own perfect darkness in your mind. For me, the cave is mostly mud and irregular, sedimentary boulders; for other people I suspect it might be sand and sharper, more brittle rocks just for example.
Before you jump on me for writing just another dark and depressing piece, know that I could have had her head roll off when he touched her. I was actually going to do that, but I decided to be a little nice to you guys for once.
As far as inspirations go, I thought up this piece largely while watching the Andy Griffith episode Barney and the Cave Rescue... and, yes, listening to black metal. Anyway, there's not much more to say here, except that I took this from concept to product in one sitting. My next piece is well on its way, and will be much longer and more descriptive than this one. So look forward to that, and comment, vote, fave, and watch as necessary. See you next chapter.)