Still naked, I found a spot on the front steps of the crypt to sit. The storm had moved on leaving only heavy drips splattering down from the roof's eaves. I shiver even though the rain had done nothing to cool the air. If anything, it's making the night steamier, and the ground fog creeps in as if a million teakettle have come to a boil.
I placed the fragile sheets of paper on the porch beside me and secured them from the wind with an old stone. I'd borrowed the pages from Eternal when she'd pulled out her box of treasures again. I counted myself lucky that all she'd wanted for her reward was my ring with the green eyed silver skull. I was a little surprised at my reluctance in parting with it, I felt an attachment I couldn't explain, but I knew the cost could have been higher. As she was stowed her prize away, I noticed one of the pages was marked with a large arrow and had the look of a map. I wanted to examine it and the other papers she had in more detail, but not just then.
Not just now, either.
My head is too screwed up.
I'd completely lost myself to lust, and I had no idea why. My repulsion to the ghouls had faded from its initial intensity, and perhaps they did resemble sexy young women from the neck down, but they're unnatural creatures, and I never should have become seduced by them. Even my lusty teenage self, who was capable of masturbating at the slightest provocation would not have been tempted.
And it wasn't so much that I had gotten caught up in the moment that bothered me (although it did--a lot), it was that I accepted Sorrow's terms so readily. No arguing. No bargaining. I didn't so much as point out that showing me a break in the wall I could not use was not worthy of a reward. I just got down on my knees and went to work between her legs.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Sounds of passion leak from the tomb's door as Eternal picks up where I left off, and the two ghouls go at it like porn stars. I close my eyes tight as if it might keep the noise of skin slapping and ecstatic moans out of my head. And from somewhere out of the depths of my consciousness an image surfaces.
Lying in bed, only a snow white duvet on top of me. The mattress rests directly on a wood floor, the slats scarred and scuffed from decades of use. Early morning light makes the winter frost on the windows glow. I'm in that heady satisfied mood of post sex. My left arm props my head up, and my short hair is damp with sweat. Someone is beside me. I try and see. But when I force the direction of my gaze, the whole scene dissolves back into nothing.
Another memory. Two memories, I realize. I almost missed the recollection of being a fourteen-year-old boy amid my distress. I'm beginning to remember. Slowly, but there's hope I might eventually recover who I was.
Which brings me to another matter I've been putting off. This body I'm in. There's no better time to come acquainted with it. I'm alone and bare-ass, the sky has cleared and the moon covers everything in a bright silvery light. I step out from under the tomb's cover and inspect the new me.
The first thing I note is something I'd known but had avoided dwelling on until now: my limbs are frightfully thin. My arms are nearly without muscle, and my legs are underdeveloped, more like a girl of fifteen than nineteen. My feet are small. Compared to what I'm used to, they look as though they belong to a child. My belly's thin but not flat like a model's. It has a roundness to it that proves she wasn't a gym-rat or anorexic. The breasts are small and triangular and exhibit no sag (a benefit of the size and youth, no doubt). Definitely they're a large A or a small B. My crotch is covered with a patch of dark hair containing a few strands of auburn. It's trimmed but not maintained with too much care. She was undeniably a real girl and not an airbrushed pinup. Everywhere I look my skin is smooth and unblemished. Either she took good care of it or it's a side-effect of reanimation. I've noticed the ghouls have a similar perfection to their skin. Also, I'm almost as pale as them, except I have some pigmentation and it's a human tone unlike their alabaster. I pull my hair forward. It's dark brown, almost black, and just short of being shoulder length. The ends are frizzing in the humidity.
Without a mirror there's not much more I can do. Although, I try peering around my hips and over my shoulder to get a look at my back. I can't tell too much from it, but I decide my butt is kind of adorable.
So, that's Sabina. Me. At least, me for the foreseeable future. Whether I like it or not.
I sit back down and sigh. Trapped in a girls body, surrounded by ghouls, and slowly becoming a sex-crazed nympho, it would seem. What was I going to do?
I spot the pages and decide I could use the distraction. One of the sheets contains text in a flamboyant, flowing script. I read:
...more difficult than I anticipated. Although, my beloved Eurydice is worth any struggle the Fates may try to confound me with.
It has become clear this is not the Underworld of which the philosophers and oracles speak. Once I traveled beyond the nymphs' grotto and crossed the Acheron, I found no Asphodel Meadows and no Elysium Fields. Instead, I encountered lands reflective of the ones above but perverted to new ends and cast in an endless night. I feel myself to be no mere traveler but an explorer discovering new realms both fascinating and terrifying. For this nether world is not populated solely with the spirits of the dead but all manner of beasts, monsters, and daemons. And each stage of my trek has brought me face to face with dangers untold. It is only my devotion to Eurydice that keeps me to my path and pressing forward to find Hades and Persephone. Oh Gods, let them hear my pleas and be charitable to me! For surely were it not for this flame in my heart and the deep longing to have my love returned to me, I would retreat to the safety and light of the Upperworld.
Let anyone who attempts this journey after me know this,
(On the flip side)
as the first man to make this foolhardy and desperate journey, I will attempt to produce an account of my sojourn in this foul and terrible realm. My cartography skills are not the best. For even if I were more attuned to star charts than the lyre, the heavens here do not follow any of the familiar patterns of home. Yet, I shall do my best. And truly, without the help of the Gods, I shall need such records to find my own way back.
With this journal I will endeavor to document any other details that may prove useful to the wayward traveler. Particularly the application of magiks which are surprisingly easy to wield in this supernatural realm. But I will have more to say upon this topic later. For now, I will start by mentioning the strange and unnatural workings of language in these lands. When above, one does not have to wonder far from home to find oneself confused by alien tongues and dialects. Yet, here all seems as one.
A night not long after Charon ferried me to the shores of Nekromanteion, I met a member of the deceased at a waypost. It didn't take long to realize he possessed more knowledge of the surrounding geography than most, and I plied him with drink so his lips would loosen and he'd be more willing to share in his experiences. After hours of discussion, I complimented the man, who appeared to be of the Egyptian sort, on his proficiency in the noble Greek. But he contended he had been speaking his native...
(text ends)
The paper shakes in my tingling fingers. I can hardly believe I'm holding a page from the diary of someone who came from the living world and recorded the route he took.
The next sheet in the collection was a bit more cryptic with the title "Will-o'-the-wisp" followed by "Good for distracting enemies," and a diagram of fingers in an odd position. A few words are written at the bottom, but despite the claim all languages became one in the Underworld, it's gibberish to me.
I finally get to the map. It's a detail of an area called The Dusty Road. The author has made many notations of landmarks and the correct turning points on the long and convoluted road. At the top of the sheet was an arrow showing that he came from the direction of The Sea of Nightmares. That didn't sound too promising. But the arrow at the bottom indicated he reached The Mire of a Thousand Pools afterward.
Wasn't mire another word for swamp?
I stood up suddenly clutching the pages to my bosom. This was the answer. If I got to the swamp, I could find this Dust Road, and eventually the way out. I just had to figure a way past that monster.
I needed to have another look at the break in the wall. Maybe I would see something I missed the first time.
The crypt has grown quiet, and I creep in so not to wake Sorrow and Eternal who were passed out in each others' arms. My clothes are still damp, but I'm not ready to traipse around a graveyard in my birthday-suit yet, so I slip them on anyway. I use my bra strap to hold the journal pages. Their value to me is measurable, and I'll make some arrangement to purchase them when I get back. Perhaps, Eternal will part with them for another ring or two.
Getting back to the break in the wall is slow going. I'd been in such a hurry to get out of the rain before, I hadn't paid much attention to which way we'd come. I was maybe halfway to the wall, when someone started screaming out: "Thief. Thief. The mortal! Get the Mortal. She's a thief." The voice was undeniably Eternal's. She must have woken and found me gone and jumped to conclusions.
I might have turned back and explained the misunderstanding right then, but all around me, crypts began to open. Glowing red eyes of ghouls glared out at the moonlit graveyard and the air became alive with yips and barks. My instincts said to run, and my legs got moving. Unfortunately, they led me straight into a posse of ghouls led by that son-of-a-bitch Rip.
Thanks for the chapter
You are welcome!!