Isle of the Immortal Crab

“Do not speak his name!”

The cry came from across the way, from the man who leaned beneath the shade of a great palm.

The woman he’d called to turned away from the little girl by her side, to whom she’d been speaking, and turned to the man. When she saw who it was, she smirked.

“Why not?” she asked. “He’s long dead. Are you afraid he’ll come for your other arm?”

She approached him, for it was him she had come seeking.

He did not move, but his eyes did, dropping to peer at the girl.

The girl’s own eyes were seeing him.

And seeing beyond him.

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Anomaly Valley

The grass is purple in that valley.  And the sky is green.  That’s how you will know that you have reached the entrance to the vault.

I never really expected those words from an ancient myth to guide me on this failed expedition.  And it was failed because even if I found the vault, even if I managed to enter it and lay my eyes on what lay within, I would never find my way out again.

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The Abacus of Dreams

No, not his dream. His dreams hold no answers that make sense. It’s possible his dreams don’t hold any answers at all. Not the ones we need to find her.

It’s her dreams we need. It’s the link we need. He had something of hers from the island. But he lost it on his way to rescue. He lost it in the delirium of dehydration. Now he has only his memories, his dreams, his desperate hope. And to help him, I have only the Abacus.

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