“Lessy didn’t say anything to you?”
For over an hour I had sat on a rotting porch step, learing at an ocean of ants that never seemed to end or begin; none taking any interest in me either. The sun had gone, the night now cooling as a slight breeze tossed spent shells at us from pine trees near the lake. My friend, black haired an musty overcoat sat just beyond the last step, having no wish to be surrounded by insects he instead picked stones from the dirt, tossing them thru what remained our cabins windows.
“She didn’t ‘say’ much at all. We were in a hurry, or at least she was. I don’t recall why I was there and am having a hard time remembering our reasons for taking this place.”
I took the wheatherd piece of map that we had found and unfolded it on the wood slabs behind me. There were markings, faint and covered by stains. A smell of jelly, or something that resembles it.
“What do you make of it?” He asked.
“Don’t know. It’s old, but the cabins here,”
I point to a place on the map near where I think we might be; it is hard to tell.
“This could be where we are, but I’d like to wait untill Gaffen shows up to say otherwise.”
My companion stops mid way into his last stone and looks at me for a minute.
“You mean Griffin?”
I stare back at him confused, “Yeah, what did I say?”
“Right.” I agree and turn back to the map. The markings are too light to pick out clearly. I could guess at it’s features, but without a way to bring them back out…..
“Let’s light a fire.” I tell him, folding the map and stuffing it back into my coat.
“Griffin should be here soon.”
Categories: Matthew Newton