Saturday, 9 February 2013

Did we see them? Prologue

The book mentioned in the prologue to the story is available from me.


As I previously mentioned in my journal entry marked “Did we see him?” Things have happened in recent months that have questioned my sanity.
            After returning from an experience that I find hard to come to terms with. I saw things no person should have seen. To give you some ideas, we were sent by an organisation called “The Glove” to try and find out what information Sir Percy Fawcett had obtained on his last trip up the Amazon.
 What we saw. Or did we? The sights and sounds of those days haunt me. Things that were neither man nor animal, beings that lived in neither the living world, nor were they dead.  They worshipped a white man, who could have been Fawcett. As we left, at Fawcett's bequest, we witnessed the true horrors of this life as he was beaten, close to death before being eaten by ants, while the tribe devoured a person's body. The poor soul was still alive as they tore him apart, the screams of agony, just helping their enjoyment.
 The horror of holding my best friend Tommy Curridge in my arms, as he faded away with a spear in his chest. All the time praying we could get out of that hell yet fearing we too were doomed to a life as tormented souls.
             I arrived at the Bell club, in Belgravia, London, and after telling my story to my good friends Anthony Harkley, Christopher Jackman and Harrison Merrill, I went out to partake of some air and have a pipe to calm my shattered nerves.

                                                       ********

I was only out of the club a few minutes, during which time a strange fog appeared. On my return I found I could not open the doors and had to be admitted by a fellow member.  Up on entering I was informed I may hold the answer to a mystery.
“What mystery could my return solve?” I pondered as I climbed the stairs of my old club, so changed I hardly knew it.
The mystery was a locked door, to which nobody in the club could open. As I looked at the lock, I fumbled in my coat pocket and found my old room key; this key did open the locks to my astonishment. I found myself standing in front of a swirling energy mass focused to a series of bulbs. On my bedside table lay an envelope marked “Did we see them?” Beside it was a note I had written, my hand clearly legible despite the obvious shaking. The note said “If you are reading this, you have passed through a temporal energy mass. The mist you were in has transported you, ten years forward, signed Charles Q.”
            Even though being an adventurer and having an enquiring mind after years of seeing strange lands. I find this hard to believe. Yet, here I stand as evidence in my own equation; my keys had opened a door locked for ten years. In part, therefore at least some of it was true. Which parts I have yet to find?
            I stood transfixed by the beauty of the colours before me, as the machinery whirred away and energy mass throbbed and hummed, we stood looking at this for some minutes in total awe of its powers before my new found friend commented.

             “What is that?”

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