Matthew Newton

Something Maple May Be: (part thirteen) by Matthew L Newton

Keep sakes are just that, something you keep, and Maxwell knew well what to hold on to in this place. He crept slowly into the cabins front room where his friends were standing, staring, waiting, wondering if he was real.

“I’m here,” he said with his hands in the air,
“no need to get all butt hurt about it.”
He crossed the short distance between him and the couch and sat down, eyeing them supsiciously.

“Uh, okay. How about you just sit there and keep your mouth shut.” Griffin wasn’t in the mode to put up with half the shit they’d gone thru, let alone Maxwell and his upidy attitude.

“Let off him.” I snapped, snatching the joy right of his stupid face.
“We need to get back on track before we both lose focus.” I sat down next to what looked like the friend I’d been traveling with. I say traveling, when really it has just been hanging out on a beach near the woods surrounding a black lake that smelled like rotted death roasting in a slow cooker for the better part of a month.
“Start over, from the beginning. I need to hear how you got here again, before the lake that is.”

Griffin was quiet for some time. He had turned to the window, peering out into the night thru peices of shattered glass and an old, stained curtain that flapped lightly with the breeze. His face had gone pale and he seemed to be struggling with whatever thoughts that he neither could say, nor stand to keep thinking.

“Hello?” My blurry friend grew more and more impatient.

“Griffin…” I started, then he turned abruptly and cut me off.

“Just give me a second, damn.” He sat dow on the floor in front of us, crossing his legs. His breathing was sharp, labored.
“I can see it, clearly at times, though the images are vauge, like I know what they are but do not understand them.” The color of his skin was returning to normal and a smile crept to his lips.
“There it is.” He said softly.

“What?” Asked our shadowy friend.

“Yeah, I’d kinda like to know that too.” I followed, leaning in closer to him so i could he what he might say next.

“The Sullen Mountain, glowing in the distance.” His voice was so fant that I could bearly pick it up, not even with my ears almost right on him.

“What wasn’t there at first and now before us stands to be,” He started, and I nearly jumped off the couch as the vapor beside me finished the thought with him, their voices blending with the movement of the curtain as the wind shot in upon us.

“What is and isn’t never can to all that should not see.”

Matthew Newton
DOC #81868

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