under the barrow without a wheel to stand on................Diary of an occult resolution assistant

Friday 19:20

Soil fell in fine particles from the unsupported roof of the tunnel, my footsteps causing enough pressure to destabilize the undisturbed and delicately balanced tunnel construction in a worrying fashion.  This tunnel, carved out of the soil by who know who's hands, or whether they had hands and not claws, talons, scales or any manner of burrowing devices natural or otherwise;  but I did know who/whom/what-ever dug this, they did not believe in shoring up or straight lines.  If it wasn't for the huge trunking of tree roots plunging through the curving walls and low ceiling and turning off to find nutrients further into the soil banks each side then the tunnel would have been fatally buried years before.  Thinking of fatally buried........I trod carefully, selecting every foot step with care and changing weight from back foot to fore with a delicacy and poise any ballerina would be proud of.  My hands held out touching each side wall to support me but not putting any direct force outwards because every slight outcrop of soil touched fell away causing its neighboring particles to follow and the newly exposed dirt to rush to fill in the cavity left in view.  I knew a fall over one of the snaking roots covering the undulating floor could be my last false move.

The further I went along the corridor the warmer the air became, it was dry, smelling of leaf mold and wood and full of fine dirt and dust which floated in the air as I disturbed what in my mind was centuries of stillness.  Other than the painfully slow growth of well established root systems nothing had had any impact on the status quo here in aeons.

As I walked along the tunnel with my head bowed low and back stooped to accomodate my frame within the reduced spaces the uneven passage created, I gathered as much information as I could.  It was no good being scared, crying or panicking;  I doubt any of them or their ilk would do me any good, unless I wanted to stay in a dark underground tomb for the rest of my life and a good number of years after that.

1.   It was dark, only the glow from my watch made traveling the path ahead difficult rather than impossible. 
2.  I was heading North following the path finders point.
3. There were roots growing through the tunnel, they did not look damaged or marked so they have grown through after the tunnel was excavated; and they looked ancient so the tunnel was old.
4. there were no trees above or around the mount from the outside and as the roots look healthy I very much doubt I am geographically in the same place I was only moments ago.  Some doors lead to neighbouring spaces, others lead to neighbouring times.  SO have I travelled to another place or time?
5. its dark and I hate the dark - luckily there are no spiders, there are no signs of life, not even a worm sticking out the wall.
6. If this is a GPS watch, why is it still working underground?  My satnav doesn't like it if I have it too far back it the car.
7. There is only one tunnel, so it leads from one place to another.  The question is from where and to where?  And does walking in the opposite direction take me back to where I came from and home or will it take me away from where I want to be?
8. how come its always me who ends up in places like this?   I bet Xanthic is sat in a bar somewhere chatting up the barmaid or drinking expensive coffee in a domesticated American chain.

There were probably hundreds of other clues, tips or signs I have missed;  A talented investigator would probably be able to state categorically where in the world we were because this particular shade and make up of soil only occurs on one small island during one specific time period blah, blah, blah:  and from the air currents we are obviously heading towards something somewhere and to someone.  Well, I guess if I keep going I'll find the answers the hard way.

Time when you are having fun flies,  that's why it felt like I had been down here for hours.  My hair was a mess, my nails hurt from the amount of dirt squatting below them and I had enough soil down my back to grow a field of potatoes;  But onwards I stepped edging closer to wherever I was headed. 

20:45

The passage dropped, heading down at a very steep angle, thankfully there were rough hewn steps with fear inducing irregularity and scattered with cheeky little stone obstacles to aid speed my decent in a new born giraffe trying to walk kind of way. Thankfully it was a quick ride to the end scoring an eight on the obscenity meter  - meaning I had time to swear eight times before hitting bottom (and the end of the tunnel - you work it out)   It would have been higher but as I stood up and hit my head hard on the low ceiling I spat out a mouth full of dirt.  There, against all probability was a door; wooden with brass fixings and straps holding the rough wood planks together with crude hand crafted diamond headed thick nails.  A sign, written worryingly in modern English, hung from a nail extruding from its hammered in position.
  

Come in my Dear & please close the door behind you.

With an invitation like that what can you do?  If you answered panic then you must think like I do.  How far back did the English language go? Obviously quite far, but didn't it have all 'Ye Olde' and squiggly bits throughout? Some of the old books were so badly written that even repeated words were spelled differently, but to have a clear, neat and correctly spelled English sentence hanging on a piece of tightly knotted and clean string was deeply unsettling.  I thought about knocking, after all it appears like someone (thing) was expecting me or if not me at least someone to be visiting; but the pounding strong thud emanating from my chest had probably already announced my presence.

"Well Valentine, you're not going to go back so you had better get a grip of yourself and go forward."  I said in a loud authoritative voice in the hope it would spur me on, it didn't but I went onwards anyway.