The Chronicler

      The stack of papers seemed to reach the sky, the meticulously labeled shelves all categorized and deluged the examiner with all of the information needed to find what they were searching for. The entries covered decades and contained all the documentation of a life minute by minute. The dimly lit mausoleum to a life lived, always kept its dank and dark visage, and seemingly took on a persona of its own. The shelves seemed to watch you as you walked by and the darkness enveloped all who ventured near it. Somewhere near the middle of this labyrinth sat the owner, caretaker, and accountant. Sir Donald Farthing, a man obsessed with the intricacies of living and the documentation of it. A single ornate table sat in a small open space that was slowly in danger of being swallowed by more stacks of papers, here Farthing sat looking over his collection and studiously examining more documents to add to the collection. Gray streaks lined his wrinkled face, although he was a keeper of time, it had not held still for him. The red embers of his pipe glowed anew with every inhale of the long ivory pipe he puffed between his lips. This added an eerie red glow to the stacks of books and papers in the darkened corners of the library. 

     The answers that he sought, however, still eluded him and as the days passed by, the answers seemed farther away. The books strewn in front of him were scribbled with notes and theories, dead ends and possibilities that still showed hope for an old man's questions. The old man's head started bobbing, as the lateness of the hour dragged upon his consciousness. He removed the round frame glasses and rubbed his eyes and nose, reaching into a vest pocket he retrieved an old pocket watch. With a click of the button the side popped open and revealed the inner workings, twirling and moving about. Realizing that the time was midnight he let out a huff as he stretched his arms to the sky. 

     "I guess I had better turn in, not much more I can do today", he mumbled to himself as he grabbed the cane that leaned against the desk. 

     Leaning heavily on the cane, he righted himself and started to hobble over to where his bed awaited. Shuffling justy out of range of the antique lamp, he heavily fell onto his bunk, taking off his glasses he rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if trying to relinquish the thoughts that consumed him so he could sleep. He put away his glasses on the small end table that was adjacent to his bed. With another groan he swung his legs up, filled the blanket of his body and drifted off to sleep. The dreams that came to him that night were of little comfort, he stood in a vast forest, great trees stretched into an endless sky. The sounds of the jungle were loud and consumed the landscape. The cool breeze felt good upon his skin, how long had it been since he had felt a natural breeze, so long the memory had already faded away. Intrigued by the foreign landscape, Farthing ventured further, looking for the secrets held within this dense wilderness. It all felt so real, Farthing couldn't believe that it was a dream, but where had he been and where was he going? The moist ground sunk in with every step he took, the breeze would rustle the leaves of the foliage around him. As he continued down the path, eyes peered out of the darkness, strange luminescent globes watching his every move. The growls raised the hackles on Farthing's neck, never had he ever felt more like prey. Picking up the pace Farthing moved further inward, still unsure of his direction, or destination. 

     His pace quickened as he fled to his unknown sanctuary, the eyes now gave chase, hunting the newly acquired target. In the distance he heard the sound of thunder and the far of flashes of lightning that lit up the distant landscape. He barely noticed the speed at which the trees fell away behind him, and he definitely didn't notice that he was running full out and didn't need his cane. The wind began to howl along the landscape bending the foliage down to the ground. The sky soon opened up and a hard rain pelted the jungle. The path quickly turned into a mudslide, and Farthing found it hard to keep his footing, and that's when he heard it. The cracking branches, and the heavy footfalls behind him, he was no longer being watched, he was now being hunted. Frantically he ran, desperate to escape the beast, he ducked into the jungle now, wet branches attacking him as he scurried along. Grasping whatever he could to propel him through the landscape. When he suddenly burst from the jungle into a clearing, Farthing turned, and out of the jungle came the beast. Jet black, with a heavily muscled body, on all fours it paced in front of him. 

     "So this is it?" Farthing spat at the beast

     Unaffected, the beast paced on, sizing up its meal.

     "Come on then, no use waiting!!" he urged the beast to action

     The beast opened its mouth wide, wicked teeth shown by the dozen, its hackles raised the beast ready to pounce. But before he could, an earth shaking peel of thunder clapped over head, lightning struck that illuminated the clearing. Fire sprang up in the clearing and Farthing could see the beast on the other side of the flames. With a soul shattering roar the beast flung itself to the ground, and in the iridescent fire light he could see the beast change. The sickening pops and groans of flesh and bone moving could clearly be heard over the cacophony of sounds in the jungle. When the metamorphosis was complete the beast stood on two legs, and was close to eight feet tall. Yellow piercing eyes took Farthing in, and a big smile drew across his maw as saliva dripped from his massive canines. 

     "You will never find the answers huddled in a cave of books, the answer lies in the wilds." The beast growled at him

     "Look in the jungles, but beware those who paint themselves with the wickedness of this world, they will be your downfall." The beast spat at Farthing. 

     "How will I find you?" Farthing screeched at the beast.

     "You already have the answer." Was the last thing Farthing heard as the flames roared in between them. 

     The flames burned hot in his face as he strained his eyes to look for the beast, with one more spurt of flames Farthing had to look away. With that he awoke in his library, but the flames were real and the whole place was covered in a sheen of water. The sprinklers must have been as old as the building, Farthing thought as the flames raged on. In an instant he was on his feet, cane in hand, his only hope was that it had not been consumed by fire. He navigated the stacks of his research and the raging inferno, until he made it to his desk, which was mostly burnt now, the blackened ivory pipe smoldering on the desk seemed to be where the fire started. With a jerk the last drawer in the desk flew upon, and unscathed was a small leatherbound journal, an avenue of research he had deemed a dead end now seemed relevant after the events of the night. 

     Farthing then made his way out of the burning remains of his life's work, but it never seemed so unimportant as it did right now. He took one look back as the flames started to escape from inside the building, he started making his way down the street with a new vigor and destination in his mind.