It was a dark, silent night, and a man crept slowly through the New England woods. Carrying a pick and shovel, he considered himself an avid collector of the occult: ancient artifacts, skulls, and other dirty, strange, recently unearthed objects lined the shelves of his shed. The man liked this hobby of his, especially because it paid: he signed, sealed, and delivered artifacts every day to people across the country who wanted a piece of history for themselves. His Instagram was flooded with images of his findings, often accompanied by a link to purchase them. The man felt no shame: if the public wanted to see these things, then they could simply purchase them off his hands!
The man began working away at the rocky New England soil, his pickaxe dulled from many a dig. Each successive *pith* of the axe brought him closer to his prize. This place was sacred, he knew; the reservations that he had held in his mind about setting foot in this part of the forest fell further and further away from the light of his consciousness as thoughts of money, fame, and endless leisure pushed his apprehension into the void of the night. If he could find it, he thought, he’d never have to work a day in his life.
*pith* *pith* *pith*
The hole had grown larger now, and a glint of something sparkled underneath the rough gravel. The man bent down on his hands and knees, aimlessly scrabbling through the rocks and silt, the dark grime sticking to the undersides of his fingernails. Finally, after years of searching! The cold, dry night air made his skin coarse and brittle, and the rocks cut him as he dug, but he felt little pain, the dream, the ecstasy propelling him as he shoveled on.
The man paused. A hoarse, clogged, ragged breath rang out from the thicket, just twenty feet away. Footsteps, then again. The man reached into his pack, brandishing a flashlight that pierced the darkness. It was now so thick the man could no longer see his filthy hands as they desperately clutched the cool, black steel of the flashlight. The leaves rustled, a breeze catching the lonely ones at the tops of the trees, which began to sway and creak. The breath now blended with the forest, every noise a movement, every sound a threat. The man, frozen in fear, looked up to the sky, begging for reprieve, for forgiveness. A decrepit, uncanny creature emerged from the thicket and mercilessly approached the weeping old sinner. Judgement had arrived.
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