THE CAVE
KSENIA MURRAY
Copyright © 2021
KSENIA MURRAY
THE CAVE
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
KSENIA MURRAY
First Edition 2021
Chapter One
A
s they lowered Trish’s grandfather into the ground, she knew that her life was over. The cool breeze of the late winter morning cut at her face and hands. The sky was an ugly grey, the same grey that Trish felt deep within her. A grey that was full of loneliness, despair, and a pulsing sense of nothingness. She loved her grandpa more than anything on this Earth. He was her confidant, best friend, and the only person to make her feel like a normal human being. Trish wiped a warm tear from her cold cheek as she looked over at her parents. They weren’t crying and didn’t display any sadness. They stared at the coffin as it was being lowered. Her mother leaned over and whispered something into her father’s ear. He chuckled and kissed the top of her greying head. Trish sighed and looked away from her parents as a stranger, who claimed to be her grandfather’s friend earlier at the family church, grabbed her hand and squeezed it so tight that she could feel his heartbeat through his palm.
She squeezed his old and wrinkled hand back and looked towards the sky, wondering why this had to happen to her.
After the service concluded, all of the funeral attendees made their way to Trish’s parents’ house for the wake. Her mother slaved over all of the different dishes as if they were more important than the funeral itself. She yelled at Trish, begging her to help her clean up their house and make it presentable, wanted her to make her famous chocolate pie, and asked her to not make a scene at any moment throughout the day. Her mother loved planning parties and hosting, so it only made sense for her to jump on this opportunity to host. Trish hated her mother.
Her father didn’t seem fazed when the call came that his dad died in his sleep. He just called Trish and nonchalantly told her that her grandpa was dead. When Trish broke down, he told her to cut the dramatics and come to the house. She neither cut her dramatics nor went to her parents’ house. As far as she was concerned, after the funeral, they were dead to her.
“Need a ride?” the old man next to her asked as he let go of her cold hand. Trish nodded as she dreaded having to be alone with her parents in the car as they demanded that she ride with them instead of taking her own. They walked back to the parking lot in silence as the clouds opened up and emptied the water within them. The funeral attendees scattered like mice being chased by a cat to their cars. Neither Trish nor the old man seemed phased by the cool hard rain as they continued their walk. The town’s cemetery is older than the town itself, built almost three hundred years ago. Her grandfather was born here, and he died here, so they saw it fit to bury him here.
“Don’t worry about your parents, and ignore them when we get to the house. They mean well, but I reckon’ they have no clue how to act or what to do. Let them be in their element, and you stay in yours,” the old man commented as he watched the remaining guests jump into their vehicles.
“How do you know my grandpa?” Trish asked.
“We grew up together. Went to the same school and graduated the same year. We were the only two people to stay in town. People love to flee this little town and start their lives over elsewhere like you did,” he laughed as he spoke, a tear slowly fell down his cheek.
“I wanted to go to college,” Trish stated as she felt a pang of guilt for leaving her grandfather behind.
“I know, girly. You needed an education. No one can fault you for that,” he replied as they arrived at his old and beaten truck. It was a faded red, almost pink.
“How come I’ve never met you before?” she asked.
The man unlocked the passenger side door and opened it with a grunt. Trish climbed in, the truck making a loud squeak as she sat in it. He closed the door behind her and climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck smelled of cigarette smoke and old leather, the seats cracked and worn, and the ceiling had chunks of stuffing missing.
“Well, ya know how hard it is to keep in touch with everyone about everything these days,” he responded as he turned the keys in the ignition. He turned the radio on, letting the silence be drowned out with classic rock music. He drove with zero care in the world and seemed as if he was purposefully hitting every pothole and curb along the way. He squinted his eyes and stared hard at the road, even though it wasn’t doing him any favors. After thirty-five minutes of a normally twenty-five-minute drive, they were parked a block away from her parents’ house.
Trish climbed out of the truck and slammed the door shut behind her. “Thanks for the ride.”
The old man hobbled out of the truck, “You sure are welcome.”
He reached out and grabbed her arm as they slowly walked up the steep hill to the house. It seemed as though they were the last ones to arrive as the street was lined with new and old cars alike on both sides. The rain was coming down harder than before as the droplets burst onto both of them, leaving them absolutely drenched. She tilted her head up, and faced the sky, enjoying the feel of cold rain as it hit against her warm face. They made it to the front door of the two-story English Tudor house with red brick and a large garden of dead roses and green bushes. Trish helped the old man, with a grunt, up the ten concrete stairs to the front door. She opened the large, cherry wood door and allowed him entry first. She followed suit and shut the door behind her. Trish offered to take the coat from the old man, but he swatted her hand away. She snorted and pulled off the old man’s grimy and smelly coat anyway. Since the coat rack was full, she just tossed his and her jackets onto the little wooden bench by the door.
“Patricia, what took you so long?” her mother called out as she walked over to them, her black heeled boots clanked against the polished wooden floor.
“He gave me a ride, and I was helping him get here,” she replied as she motioned to the old man. Her mother looked at him and shook her head pitifully.
“Now is the time for family. Come on now, help me set up the buffet,” her mother commanded, but Trish just shrugged.
“No thanks. I am going to help him get settled.”
“I didn’t ask,” her mother barked as she raised an eyebrow.
Trish snorted, “Neither did I.”
They stared each other down for a few beats, their dark brown eyes glaring into the others. The old man interrupted, “Do you mind helping me to the bathroom?” he asked as he wrapped an arm around Trish’s shoulder.
“Sure thing,” she cheerfully responded as she led him away, leaving her mother behind. Trish heard her mom stomp off and say something to her father, but she didn’t care to make out what it was. She led the old man to one of the smaller bathrooms in the house, the one in a guest bedroom, as she figured there wouldn’t be a line for it. She was right. She dropped him off in silence and walked back out to the living room, where the guests were split off into different groups talking amongst themselves. Some were laughing, some were crying, others just standing around quietly. Trish plopped down on the unoccupied brand-new black leather recliner and kicked back.
“How are you holding up, sport?” her uncle, a large man of six foot four and weighing as much as a brick house. He was older than her father by about ten years, his hair completely grey and his face leathery from years of working in the sun. He was wearing black pants and a dark blue shirt; the white buttons lo
oked as though they would burst at any moment.
“I’m doing as okay as I can be. I miss him so much already,” Trish replied as she caught a sob in her throat. She shook her head and tried to control her emotions as they flooded her mind and zapped her energy.
“It’s okay, sport. I miss him too. He lived a long and full life, and that’s all anyone can ask for in this world,” he said as he reached over and rubbed her shoulder. Trish leaned her face against his hand.
“I know. He was my best friend, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” Trish sniffled and wiped her face. “I don’t know how life in this family is going to be without him either. He was the glue, and we are all of the pieces.”
“You have a full life ahead of you. He loved you so much, but he wouldn’t want you to be this upset about it. You will find people your age with the same personality and hobbies eventually, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You will find your tribe, just like I did. This family isn’t the end all be all,” he said kindly as his wife, a short plump women fifteen years his junior. Her bright blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun as her face was plastered with heavy makeup. She looked at Trish and smiled.
“I know Uncle Tom, I know,” Trish said and looked away from them and fiddled with the hem of her long black sweater.
“Well, I guess we’d best be off and see if your mother needs any help. You know how she gets,” her uncle winked at her as he dragged his wife away.
After the standard barrage of distant family members and strangers offering their condolences, the old man hobbled over to Trish and handed her a bottle of cold water as he sat on an empty chair next to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she opened the bottle and took a swing. The old man nodded and opened his own bottle.
“Do you have any upcoming plans or trips? Anything you’re excited for?” he asked as he leaned back and made himself comfortable.
“Yes. This summer I’m going on a hiking and camping trip by myself. It’s a fifty-mile trail that isn’t too popular, so I figured I’d go at it alone to avoid the crowds. It’s Quincy Falls, have you heard of it? Grandpa and I were supposed to go together,” she trailed off as she caught a sob in her throat.
“Yes, I’ve heard of it. Do you think it’s safe for a young lady like yourself to be going off into the wilderness by yourself?”
“Don’t start it. You’re just as bad as my parents,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
The old man laughed, “Yeah, I know. You need someone to look after ya, that’s all.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been camping with grandpa over thirty times. He taught me how to handle myself well,” she said.
“I believe it! You give that man some string and a flashlight, and within ten seconds, he’d have a camp set up for himself. He was one smart man,” he said as he took another sip of his water.
“He taught me everything he knows, so I wouldn’t worry about me if I were you.”
“What about the caves? Did he tell ya about those?”
“What do you mean? How it’s not safe to go inside caves for shelter? Yes, he told me that. But I always found it ridiculous considering the research I have done that states it is generally safe depending on the location,” she answered.
“Yes, he was a very superstitious man. Every smart man has to be superstitious. If you ain’t got your wits about you, how smart can you really be?” he questioned as he stared at her.
Trish snorted, “You need to be superstitious to be smart, huh? Then how come I haven’t had seven years of bad luck since I broke a mirror a few years ago?”
“Not that kind of superstition, young lady. You need to believe the tales of the wild to know what you’re doing and exactly what you need to do to survive,” he clapped as he spoke, which made a few of the guests look over curiously.
“What should I be listening to then, oh great and smart one?” she said with a giggle.
“Of course, you shouldn’t walk off of the trail for any reason. If you hear something calling your voice, you should always ignore it. Also, avoid wendigos, lest you turn into one yourself, or worse, get eaten,” the old man stated matter-of-factly.
Trish burst out laughing, “Oh, I see. I need to watch out for wendigo’s, huh? What about Bigfoot? I know he isn’t from around here, but you can never be too sure.”
The old man sighed and sat his water down. “Did your grandpa at least tell you about the cave?”
“The cave?” she asked with a puzzled frown.
“The one that follows you wherever you go, the one that no matter where you camp or hike to, it’s always there,” he said as he lowered his voice and stared at her.
“He claimed that I needed to always avoid the caves because something terrible could happen to me. He was also very spooked by any cave we came across. But I don’t think I can remember seeing the same cave twice,” she furrowed her brow as she recalled.
“You wouldn’t as you hadn’t been inside of the cave,” the old man repeated.
“What do you mean?”
“Would you like me to tell you of the time I let your grandfather take me camping?” Trish shook her head and took another sip.
“It was about fifty years ago, I think, maybe sixty, sixty-five? Time is irrelevant when you get to my age,” he laughed. “Anyway, it was in the beautiful spring time of Oklahoma. You should know as you live here,” he chuckled and shook his head. “It was sunny the day we left. I had never been camping before as I never had the time to. I was forced to work the farm every spare moment I had. That’s why I hate the smell of fresh milk now. That’s all I ever smelled as a young sprout. I hardly had any time to make friends, I reckon that’s why your old pappy liked me. He was just like you, quiet, reserved, hated people. He enjoyed not having to see me all of the time, and I was just happy to have someone that I could jabber with,” he sighed as he took a shaky drink and rocked in the chair, his eyes watered up. Trish stared at him.
“So, as you can see, me and your grandpa were best buds. I had begged my old man to let me go camping for over a year with your grandpa, and he finally said yes. I just packed some old tennis shoes and clothing that I didn’t mind getting dirty. I also packed some fruit and nuts to snack on. Your grandpa said we’d be gone for the weekend and that he’d take care of everything, so I really only just brought myself,” he took another sip.
“Any who, we left on a crisp morning. He had his dad drive us over to the campground and drop us off. Your grandpa said we would hike two miles and then camp inside of this cave he knows about. Now, I know you grew up going camping and hiking with him all the time, but I didn’t know Oklahoma had caves. You know it’s very flat here, but this area that we went to had rolling hills and pretty tall cliffs. Your grandpa said that this area had a fifty-mile long trail that he always wanted to complete with you,” his face flushed, and he reached out and grabbed Trish’s hand firmly.
“I tried to talk him out of it, but I know the both of ya’s to I know you’re going to ignore me, just like your pappy did. Now, what I’m about to tell you stays between us, ya hear?” he commanded as his eyes darted around the room, carefuly for watchful eyes.
“I promise,” Trish said, “I know what trail you’re talking about. We were supposed to complete it this summer.”
The old man squeezed her hand tightly, “I know, he told me. That’s why I’m telling you this story so that you know what to cave to watch out for.”
“Watch out for?”
“So, the first day was fine. We grilled up some hot dogs and talked a lot of shit, as teenage boys do. We wrestled, took a hike, and chatted about all the little hotties in our small class of twenty-three. But, once night came, everything changed. You see, instead of bringing a tent, your grandpa wanted to sleep in this cave. He said he’d never slept in a cave before, but he hiked past it all the time, and he wanted to try it out. He was certain that there weren’t any dangerous animals in there. I didn’t buy it ‘cuz I know
all about them rattlesnakes and copper heads, but he just called me a pussy, and that was that, we slept in the cave,” he took a deep breath and let go of Trish’s hand and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Trish shook her head at him, and he sighed, reluctantly putting them away.
“So, your grandpa went in first just to make sure there weren’t any critters to speak of, bad ones, I mean. He came back out, and we brought our sleeping bags in with us. We walked, I want to say, about two minutes into the dark cave. Thank God he brought us some flashlights. We laid out our sleeping bags and crawled inside of them. Your grandpa was telling scary stories, and we were just having a hoot, until…” he stopped and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, his blue eyes were wide with fear.
“Something spoke to us. It said, ‘Welcome.’ We thought there was another camper in there, or maybe a homeless person, but when your grandpa stood up to check, something pushed him back down. It said, ‘solve the riddle, and I will offer you eternal salvation.’ Its voice was deeper than anything I had ever heard. It smelled like a mixture of decay and wet grass. The air was heavy and pressed us down into the ground. We couldn’t move a muscle. Suddenly, torches that apparently lined the cave wall that we hadn’t noticed before lit up. Your grandpa and I both screamed louder than either of us ever have before, as a riddle, carved into the rock wall, lit up. I can’t remember the riddle, but I do remember how sinister everything felt. It felt dark, demonic. Now, I wasn’t ever religious, but I knew at that moment I better start praying. My palms were shaking, I couldn’t breathe, and it was dead quiet,” he sighed and grabbed Trish’s hand once more.
“Your grandpa tried to solve the riddle. I think whatever it was gave us three chances, and we couldn’t do it. Whatever it was became angry and roared at us. The pressure was released from us, and we took off running. Whatever it was started to laugh at us and promised that it would get both of us one day. We high tailed it out of there and never spoke of it again,” he let go of Trish and took a sip of water.
The Cave Page 1