10 February 2013
The door closed with a creak and shut behind me. My eyes slowly accustomed to the gloom. I held my breath until all around me The features emerged of the dusty room.
A desk, a globe, and leather bound books stacked tall, A crudely drawn map of mysterious shores, And primitive weapons mounted up on the walls. The sounds of the party seeped up through the floors.
A final farewell to my great uncle's home, A quirky old gent who had recently passed. Such stories I'd heard, though the man I'd not known, But I sought a memento to keep that would last.
I finally stumbled across in a drawer An obsidian blade chipped to a fine edge. Precisely the sort that I'd come searching for, Yet grasping it flung my mind off of a ledge.
As soon as I touched it, my nostrils were filled With scents of a jungle, such fecund perfume. I heard screams of terror, saw blood that was spilled, Felt pounding of drums that chanted like doom.
I dropped it and saw leering shadows recede, Just music and laughter now filtered upstairs. There's nothing to make any threat here, indeed, Just fears running rampant caught me unawares.
Nevertheless, it was carefully wrapped Before I could spirit my prize from that den. Whenever I touch it, I find my mind snapped Back to some sinister, tropical fen.
But sometimes I can't help but look at that knife, And wonder what secrets my great uncle kept. What sordid adventures were filling his life, While all of us left back at home merely slept?
Artifact • Opuss № I