by Christian Barragan
I open my eyes, staring out into the grass among the pile of my exploration gear, unprofessionally twirling the healthy green strands in my aching fingers. The hands of my compass spin wildly. I frown at it, mildly unnerved. I heave myself upright, shaking the tiredness out of my skull. I peer at my objective below; the abandoned city invites me from its impression amid the surrounding jungle. Dense foliage surrounds the otherwise isolated clearing, arising concern for the navigations back to camp. I immediately brush off my worry to marvel at the beauty from my post once more, before I am interrupted.
A graceful, gleaming, green animal rises from the side of the hill, feathers flowing behind it like serpents licking the wispy, clear air. The animal beacons to me, settling itself in my vision with its glare fixated on my empty, curious gaze. I focus on the bird. All around, the branches dance to an invisible, melodic chant. The stone buildings smile at me, mouths agape, stairs spreading out into the flat grass at the center. The creature’s willowy feathers point towards the towering edifice at the center of the city. At ground level, the dark void behind the entrance mesmerizes my senses. Within it, my true mission. The secrets of a civilization.
I slide down the hill, confirming my suspicions of the bird’s intentions as it remains several feet in front of me. It looks back, as if making sure I was still following. The center structure falls out of view as I descend the small hill, facing the entrance of another building. I chase the bird up the stairs from the bottom, pausing to catch my breath.
My chest heaves as the bird stops and hovers near the entrance to the hall. A thin layer of gray mist shrouds the first few inches off the floor, stagnant. I step slowly, both to ease my swaying vision and to peer at the stone platform hosting several jars on its surface at waist level. Dried streams of crimson ooze from the center of the platform, disappearing behind the mist below. I brush past one of the jars, accidentally knocking it over. The clay container explodes on the floor without disturbing the mist at all. Intrigued and horrified, I stare down at the vapor, which seems to part as I step into it. I jog to reach my guide once again, who has already made a path to the exit.
As I reach a clearing once again I spin full circle to view the magnificent architecture around me. A city’s worth of engineering marvel and artisan work. And there was no one else to enjoy it at the moment. I pause and take a deep breath, as if I could absorb the knowledge by this means alone. The bird flies aimlessly overhead, the sun illuminating its suave features.
As I take my first step, the ground beneath me undulates violently until finally cracking. The Tagus river erupts from the empty crevasse, washing away clumps of foliage and pellets of rock. I lift my hands to my ears to drown out the deafening roar of the raging waters, smiling madly.
The stones from the river coalesce into winding paths, dark as coal. I dart around the enclosure of space as a horde of metal frames wind through the city, bellowing at my presence. The earth flattens underneath them. I jump to the other edge of the river, the bird chirps uncontrollably as I cackle to myself.
A frenzy of hammering spews from all sides, large chunks of stone cascade from the surrounding structures, barely out of range. I reach for the gun at my side, only to grasp at empty air. I realize I must have dropped it while scaling the first building. I turn to see the structure falling towards me. I sprint away from the tumbling hazard, only to be sabotaged by a stray weed. I land face-first in the churning grass, eyes wide with hysteria. I take a handful of grass in my hand, only to toss it away at the sight of its discoloration. The animal flails wildly on the floor beside me as the grass shrivels into a black smelted mass. I hear it crunch under my feet as I kick frantically, regaining my footing. It spreads from my position, a circle of death expands from my fragile footing.
I finally stand, my senses adjusting to the chaos behind me. My stance remains unsteady as a colossal dimness overtakes the sky. The sun itself is blotted out for mere seconds as the behemoth passes overhead, the air shrieking inhumanly. Before I can cover my ears, the chatter of a hundred tongues begins to nip at me from every direction. Brief glimpses of nonsensical babble make their way to my ears.
The bird reappears from its contorting state. It flies toward my paralyzed body, hitting me square in the chest. I wave it off, but the creature remains persistent. It charges again as I run towards the center structure, laughing crazily.
The bird rams me indiscriminately, even as enter the building. It pecks at my fingers. I trace my fingers along the markings on the wall as the bird’s incessant attacks draw blood from my stiff hands. I collapse at the center and devolve into a fit of laughter.
One week passes. I set up my desk and record what I have witnessed.
I open my eyes. I stare into the unintelligible markings on the walls, wondering if there is any possibility for a translation. I gaze out to the open field behind me, the calm grass swaying in the gentle wind. A green feather falls to my feet. I stare up at the empty ceiling and frown before stepping out towards my objective.
About the Author
Christian Barragan is currently a Junior at California State University Northridge. He is studying Cinema and Television Arts, with a minor in Creative Writing. Originally from Riverside, CA, he aims to become either a novelist or a screenwriter in the future.
Previous Publications: "Missing Personalities" (Play Excerpt, Northridge Review), "Of Your Choosing" (Short Story, Northridge Review), "Seeds" (Poem, La Ceiba), "The Divide" (Short Story, La Ceiba), "The Records Are True" (Short Story, La Ceiba)
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