You walk through the opening in the large iron fence. Entering into what could easily be an abandoned cemetery. A vast flat space that seems to create it's own fog. Protruding from this landscape is a large brown tent. Something like you would see in a circus, only lacking the vibrant colors. You assume that this must be where you are expected to go.
As you approach you notice some movement. Slow and jerky a figure is soon definable. The two of you moving closer together you start to make out the scraggly face of an old man. Patchy gray whiskers frame the grin on his wrinkled face. You are a bit hesitant. This vagrant like man wears a robe made of the same burlap type material as the tent. And under it his whole body is wrapped in soiled bandages. Perhaps he had been subjected to some form of pre-death mummification.
"I am glad you have arrived, the captain has been waiting" A raspy voices creeps from his lips. "Follow me... we must go inside now
The great captain should have a guide more spectacular than this creature you think to yourself. Regardless he appears to be your ticket in so you follow. The old man pushes back a loose flap on the tent and ushers you past. You find yourself standing at the entrance to a maze of fabric walls. Passages leading off in every direction. Several feet above your head torches burn to light your way, the rank stench of their oil burns your nose.
"First things first. All who enter must leave record of their presence" He points to a yellowed book "Leave a phrase or two to identify your business" You walk over and jot a few things down in the guestbook.
"Yes, yes, come along, so many sights for you to see, yes, come now"
Skeletal fingers wrap around your hand and lead you down a path. The walls are not bear, instead they are sparsely covered with artifacts from the past: art, weapons, & various mounted documents. Your guide pauses before one. A poster with imagery of ancient times. Written in script on it are five names:
"These are the
voices of five" He makes a noise akin to the union
of a growl and a sigh.
Again the frail hand whisks you off.
Around another corner you see a glass orb sitting
on a table. Something is floating inside it. You find yourself
captivated. As you move closer you see that the floating object is
a single grain of sand. A voice whispers
a tale inside your head.
He grabs something from the wall and hands
it to you.
He leads you to a rusted car door propped
up in a corner. Words have been scratched
in it's paint.
To be continued...