Thus speaking, my quiet leader, who had so long been as a shepherd to my
wandering feet, on the upper earth, grasped my hands tightly, and placed
them in those of my new companion, whose clammy fingers closed over them
as with a grip of iron. The mysterious being, now my custodian, turned
towards the creek, drawing me after him, and together we silently and
solemnly waded beneath the stone archway. As I passed under the shadow
of that dismal, yawning cliff, I turned my head to take one last glimpse
of the world I had known--that "warm precinct of the cheerful day,"--and
tears sprang to my eyes. I thought of life, family, friends,--of all for
which men live--and a melancholy vision arose, that of my lost, lost
home. My dear companion of the journey that had just ended stood in the
sunlight on the banks of the rippling stream, gazing at us intently, and
waved an affectionate farewell. My uncouth new associate (guide or
master, whichever he might be), of the journey to come, clasped me
firmly by the arms, and waded slowly onward, thrusting me steadily
against the cold current, and with irresistible force pressed me into
the thickening darkness. The daylight disappeared, the pathway
contracted, the water deepened and became more chilly. We were
constrained to bow our heads in order to avoid the overhanging vault of
stone; the water reached to my chin, and now the down-jutting roof
touched the crown of my head; then I shuddered convulsively as the last
ray of daylight disappeared.
Had it not been for my companion, I know that I should have sunk in
despair, and drowned; but with a firm hand he held my head above the
water, and steadily pushed me onward. I had reached the extreme of
despondency: I neither feared nor cared for life nor death, and I
realized that, powerless to control my own acts, my fate, the future, my
existence depended on the strange being beside me. I was mysteriously
sustained, however, by a sense of bodily security, such as comes over us
as when in the hands of an experienced guide we journey through a
wilderness, for I felt that my pilot of the underworld did not purpose
to destroy me. We halted a moment, and then, as a faint light overspread
us, my eyeless guide directed me to look upward.
"We now stand beneath the crevice which you were told by your former
guide would admit the last ray of sunlight on your path. I also say to
you, this struggling ray of sunlight is to be your last for years."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account