The cellar was damp and dark, it held many secrets this particular cellar. A mysterious figure passed through the eerie stillness, his hand went up.
The withered hand waved in a figure 8 and a brilliant flash illuminated the room, instant light. The cellar was huge, so huge it seemed to go for miles. Barrels of wine littered the disused cellar. The figure took his hood off.
“For fuck sake!”
He started jumping around cursing and ranting.
The Stairway to Heaven
It was 1905 in Dover, England. John Pooley was a man of wealthy means, perhaps the reason he was a man of taste. He had recently come back home from an expedition in Tibet. A fantastic time.
Since he came back he had never been the same. It was the tribe he met that sowed the seed, they told him of a world below and a world above. They were passionate and convincing that he decided to investigate, they could only communicate through pictures drawn on the soil. Sometimes it felt like they communicated through other means that John could not explain.
They said certain words like Aghartha and Shambolla. Emphasising on these words so they were remembered.
They handed the explorers a plant and broke off the fruit, eagerly the group ate the strange fruit as they were hungry. They all sat crosslegged in a semi circle as instructed and drifted in mind downwards, almost dreamlike. Johns body sat in his relaxed state as his soul drifted slowly downwards.
As he went down miles and miles he could see interior tunnels travelling and intertwining like snakes. The weaving tunnels had people walking up and down, meeting, chatting and laughing. They looked like a fair and wholesome people with an orange gleam to their bodies.
His soul kept drifting down until he saw a dark blue at the very bottom of the huge cavern. Intrigued, he went through and suddenly a burst of light. What he saw was astounding, a massive white orb in the middle of a huge country. Hard to describe what he was seeing.
His feet planted firmly on the ground, some of the orange tinted people saw him and came running over. They looked confused and the chitter chatter of an unknown language began. John was worried but he could see he was in no danger.
He could see mountains and lakes all the way for miles, the inner sun was pure warmth. He could almost feel God. The people touched his clothes and hugged him close, had he died?
He didn’t know what was happening. Suddenly a wooly mammoth came charging over and skidded to a stop right at John who had fell at the shock. John got up and looked slowly up at the mammoth. A rider peeked his head over with a grin. The rider jumped down.
“Do’urthgar” the rider proclaimed proudly thumping his chest. He then pointed to John and nodded eagerly.
John stepped forward and thumped his chest to mimic “John!”
Do’urthgar laughed heartily.
“What did I say? Why the mirth?” Asked
The people stopped the chatter. John looked about in amazement then looked at Do’urthgar who was staring hard.
The proud man shook his head as if searching for the right word. His eyes brightened as he uttered a word.
Do’urthgar looked pained saying the single word. He looked harder at John waiting for a reply.
“Yes” John replied “Englishman”.
Do ‘urthgar nodded happily then took out a horn. He blew it three times and suddenly John heard thunder, the ground was shaking. A figure came bounding from the distance and got bigger and bigger as it approached. John was scared but Do’urthgar held him fast, the figure was a giant. It was huge, so tall the mammoth looked like a puppy dog. A giant hand came down to grab John. Scared, John winced thinking he was going to die.
But the giant hand was surprisingly gentle, slowly the hand came up and he could see the giant face. It was bearded but cleanly cut and platted. The brown beard glistened against the light, the kindly face smiled as it plopped John on its shoulder.