Skulls
There it was again. The steady dripping of the water, seeping through the tough rock that made up the cavern roof. The only light came from a small lamp, lit with match and fueled by oil. There was a man kneeling just beside it, his knees planted on the loose bed of pebbles beneath him.
The light was dim. There was only enough to faintly see the skull the man was holding. He was stroking it with one hand, his relaxed fingers brushing along the skulls temple. It was missing the bottom jaw, and was almost perfectly white, like a marble pillar.
As his fingers ran along the smooth and near perfect specimen, the man purred lightly to it, uttering words of caring and protection.
“You should feel lucky, I saved you,” and, “Don't worry, you're safe now.” As the man kept stroking the cheek, he tilted the head forward, holding the eyes o to his own and staring into the dark and empty sockets. Slowly, a drop of water rolled out of the socket and slowly inched its way down to the jawline, a perfect tear. The man pouted in response before brushing away the tears with the back of his thumb. He slowly closed his eyes and layer his forehead upon the skull.
“Please don't cry. You were all I could have asked for. You’re so beautiful, perfect even. Please don't cry.” A few tears rolled down the face of the man before he opens his eyes once again. With his free hand, he wiped away his own tears before standing up, still clutching the skull. As he stood his belt rattled in the darkness, echoing off the cavern walls and sending rats and other small critters scurrying off into their holes.
The man then hung the skull on one of his belt hooks, looping it through the empty nose socket to make sure it would not fall. He picked up his oil lamp and extended his arm to get a better look at the cavern in front of him. He was close, he could feel it.
He thought back to the map his friend had shown him earlier, the map that lead him to the burial ground. Though the map had been tattered and worn, it contained the only information he could find regarding the hidden stash at this specific burial site. The stash that would soon be his, and his alone.
He took a step forward before carefully stepping over a large pile of stones in front of him. A marker that he had made to find his way back, should he ever get lost. But he wasn't lost, he was almost to the prize.After walking for a few minutes, the man stopped and sniffed the air. There was the dampness of the dripping water, but there was also a faint scent off wood mixed into it. It was blowing directly into him, just a little bit further.
There. There it was. A large wooden monument that was lit by glowing stones. He walked closer, letting the new light wash over him, no longer needing his oil lamp for the time being. The monument was large, but old, with moss infecting almost every plank of wood and many cracks forming along the entire thing. It was in the shape of a cross, about twice as tall as the man himself. The cave around it was also smooth stone, with a small island of grass and dirt placed around the base. It really was quite beautiful to see.
The man dropped his oil lamp onto the ground, it landing perfectly upright on its base, the handle letting out a loud clatter as it fell to the side. The man approached the base of the monument, letting his feet enjoy the soft feel of loose earth before he knelt down on the grass and began digging. It wouldn't be too deep, most of the nobles buried their treasure above themselves. Just as he thought that, his hands hit wood, reinforced by iron. His heart rate had increased, his breathing quickening. This was it, this was the chest he had been seeking.
As quick as he could, he pushed the dirt off of the sides in order to remove the chest from its clutches. It took all of his strength to get it to solid ground, but once it was there, it's contents would sit stagnant no longer. All he needed was a key. He went for his belt, back to the skull that he had hung there a few minutes prior. One of its teeth was loose, the sharp one to be exact. It was perfect. With a quick pull, he removed the tooth from the skull and inserted it into the lock. It took a few minutes, but in the end, his lock picking had never failed before. He heard a click, and the chest flew open, revealing coins upon coins of pure gold. He took one and carefully sunk his teeth into it. It had give, that was a good sign. He took out a sack and began to fill it with coins. It would be a lot easier to carry then the heavy chest.
As he was nearing the end, he took one last look at the monument. The cross, the dirt and grass. He was suddenly overtaken by a feeling of sorrow. Instinctively, he reached down and removed the skull from his belt, along with the two others he had acquired on his journey to this grave. He approached the monument, sitting down on the soft grass. He then layer the skulls down one at a time at the base of the cross, looking out upon the light emitting stones.
“I'm sorry it had to end like this. Thanks for the help.”
One by one, he kissed the skulls foreheads. He thought back upon what he had done to get down here, to get this treasure. The guide, the muscle, and the friend. They had all come with him with the same desire he had. Only he knew there was only enough for one.
He looked down at his hands. Hands that could sear skin down to the bone. All it took was one touch.
Turning away, he hoisted the bag of gold over his shoulders and began to walk away. But for some reason, he felt a strange pull back to the monument. There was something that was calling to him. He turned again and his heart stopped. There were three figures hidden in darkness behind the cross. Their heads seemed smaller than normal, like they were missing the top. Paralyzed, all he could do was stare as the figures slowly moved into the light. They were his partners. His face felt a cold and clammy grip. Then, a burst of heat. He fell to the ground, hands still clutching his now exposed skull. His eyes were facing upwards, a look of utter shock and pain plastered into his lower jaw. Then, silence. But only for a second. There it was again. The steady drip of water. Falling into his black and empty sockets.