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Description
Transfigured Night

"If, perchance, we stray from life's straight and narrow path,  we may be on a collision course for the great unseen."

"Hey everyone!  I think we may have seen the last of the Munchkins for this Halloween.     Those last few tirick-or-treaters have just about cleaned out our candy stash, and it's near about time to call it quits."

I was really having a great time.  It was the best Halloween in many a year.  I wanted to make sure the little spooks and goblins could visit Ian Dorset's house and leave with a half-way decent treat in their bags, especially this year, as I was hosting a Halloween sleep-over with my eleven year old daughter, Jessica, and two  of her friends, Jessica and Sophia.

Michael and Andrea, parents of Sophia, had agreed to join us for the spooky evening.   The girls had enjoyed  themselves so far, and took pride in their goofy gothic  costumes, which they had created with such care.  The girls had been very helpful in answering the doorbell for the endless stream of kids, all of whom were hoping for a really primo handout, and upsetting the dogs who barked mercilessly at each new ringing of the bell.   The domestic pandemonium gave us adults a ready-made excuse to kick back and down a couple of Coronas, which provided some much needed mellowness to the scene.  How I wished my wife, Sandra could have been there.  It had been five years since her fatal auto accident and I could just imagine how she would have relished a pleasant Halloween with the kids and the neighbors.  She loved holidays so much, and I missed her so terribly on all such occasions.

"Okay, it's time for the big story telling.  I've got the living room all cleared and darkened.  Come on, you guys.  You promised to tell us stories,"  Jess impatiently served notice.

"Yeah, let's go people.  We're wasting time,"  added Sophia.

"Well, Michael, you came here from Romania.  Don't you know some stories about Dracula, or legends of Transylvania or something,?" I questioned, desperately.

"Oh, no, man.   Transylvania is a beautiful place.  Nothing ever happens there.  The scariest things I've ever seen are when we immigrated to America and lived in Queens for a year," said Michael.

"What about you, Andrea.  Won't you tell us a scary story from Queens?"

"Ian, you know we all want you to tell us your story.  Honestly, we'd all like to hear what really happened to you that night in June a few years ago.   The girls, especially Jess, would love to hear the full version.  Let's all go to the living room now and begin.  Come, come.  I insist.  Besides, Sandra would want you to tell the story, too."  Andrea was a very persistent woman, especially just when you needed a boost in the right direction.

"Okay, okay," I finally relented.  Let's go in and get settled and I'll tell the story."

"Yay," was the collective response.

Once we were all assembled, and realizing that I could no longer avoid telling the tale, I began.

It all stared  with a  much anticipated trip to Elk Island Maine, a not-so-big island smack-dab in the North Atlantic, just off the Maine coast.   My boss at United Securities, Mr. Bradley. was wild about  fishing and was thinking of buying some land there.  Of course there was only about two months in the year when the cold north winds permitted much recreation, but he thought it was a really sweet spot, and was mad-keen to get his top representatives out there for a look-see, all at the company's expense, taking us with him on his yacht and doing a real fishing-camping thing.    That's when the fun began, or so it seemed.

We sailed on the company yacht, embarrassingly named The Investment,  arriving at Elk after encountering mild seas and a good tail wind.  It was the perfect June weather, and the prospects seemed like a fisherman's dream.  Naturally, fishing was not a big deal to me, but we were all there to pleased the boss, if you know what  I mean.  Camping and exploring were more to my liking, and, one afternoon,  we all hiked into the interior of the island, just to get away from the relentless winds near the coast.

I yacked a lot with Mr. Bradley as our entourage made its way up the trail.  "I wonder why they call it Elk Island?   I haven't seen an elk yet."

"Well, you don't see conies on Coney Island, either, but it makes a nice name, I guess, especially if you like rabbits,"  Mr. Bradley retorted.  "I'll bet there are no Elk on the island, but I'll tell you...there are rumors of other things."

"Oh, yeah? What other things?"

"Well, it's just rumors, but local legend has it that this island was a port for Viking ships sailing across the Atlantic  long ago.  You know...Norsemen.  It is said that there may be Viking treasure here somewhere.  The Norsemen  did explore all over the known world, you know, and could have brought treasure here for safe keeping, and a lot of other things, too, way before Columbus was even born."

"Wow, I'd never thought of that before.  Gee, what if this were once a Viking settlement.  Wouldn't that be cooler than cool."

"You bet.  That's what I like about you, Ian...always thinking outside the box.  Maybe we'll get lucky and discover some deep dark secret treasure, and we can kiss United Securities goodbye forever.  Oops, did I say that?  I can't talk like that.  I'm the boss for cryin' out loud.  Yes. Yes.  Forget Vikings and treasure.  I want you  to work your ass off when we get back to New York."

As luck would have it, we actually found a picturesque natural clearing in the forest, with the highest point of the island nearby.  It was there that we made our camp for the night, with Mr. Bradley making a fire, and the rest of the guys trying to pitch a tent without embarrassing themselves.  Camping always turns out to be more work than we imagine, and we were a little out of practice.  As the guys began to get a good campfire blazing, twilight was quickly approaching, and I became  itchy to see some of the strange  landscape before the sun was gone.  For me, dinner would have to wait.

I mentioned to the guys that I wanted to go exploring while I still had enough light, and they told me there might not be any dinner left if I was gone too long.  Challenging them to keep it  hot till I returned, I strolled off into the near-darkness.

I made my way, cautiously, out of the glade, making sure I could see the campfire as i looked back.  The blue-black night was quickly descending, yet an odd curiosity kept imploring me ahead, to the higher ground, as if...as if I had strolled into something ancient and grand.  I was amazed at myself as I was almost drooling with strong anticipation.  I glanced back at the campsite, and it seemed much further away than I thought it should be, but I pressed on up the slope, into the night, nonetheless.

As I arrived at the top of the bluff, I was awestruck by the sights before me.  The half-moon was very bright in the sky, and the sea was clearly visible, the reflections shimmering in the distance.  Then, to my amazement, I stumbled over some stones, and observed that I was standing on a stone foundation, obviously man-made.  My heart began to beat faster with the thrill of new discovery, and I looked back to make sure I could still see the campfire.  It now seemed like a tiny dot in the night, and I began to feel as lost as a was exhilarated.   It was the exhilaration that won out, giving me a rush that blinded my senses to any sense of caution or reason.

At that moment, I suddenly felt eyes piercing through me, as if stabbed by the curiosity of another's gaze.  I turned around slowly and beheld her for the first time.  Yes, her...a she-being so strange and beautiful that my exhilaration was quickly cast into dreamy supplication.  Her lovely cascading hair and penetrating gaze captured my rapt  attention.  She was adorned in some type of primitive finery, with furs and skins,  all sewn together with matchless artistry.  She wore lavish jewelry at the wrists and ankles, each one masterly crafted with opulent and mysterious designs.   The focal point of her appearance was a large pendant, with a reddish stone that seemed to have a  mysterious glowing presence.   She seemed like an aristocratic lady of ancient vintage.  She carried a little lantern with her, which provided some much needed glow.

The lady did not speak, but stared at me with questioning expressions.  I began speaking to her, saying silly little things.  "Good evening.  It's getting a little chilly, isn't it?   It's good to meet you.  Is this where you live?"   My idiotic remarks hung in the air like a cloud, and then the lady relaxed her face and began to smile just a bit, perhaps having mercy on my awkwardness.  She spoke not a word but gestured for me to follow her.  I stood there motionless, and she gestured to me a second time, making me feel that she understood my vulnerability and confusion.  At once I felt relieved, and began to feel that I trusted her somehow.  The feeling was made all the stronger by the realization of her sight resemblance to my Sandra, although I quickly put the thought out of my mind.  There seemed to be little room in my senses for anything but the lady and  this new enchanted  realm.

My beautiful hostess walked ahead of me, always about twenty feet, or so.  We came to what seemed like a hidden staircase, with great stone stairs proceeding down and down into the darkness.  The sides of the stairs were carved into the bedrock, and seemed dark, overpowering and menacing.  The lady's lantern was the only light, other than the waning light of the distant  moon .  My respect and curiosity implored me forward, descending each stair behind her as she turned and looked back at me with surprising confidence.  I followed dutifully, now feeling in my heart like I was becoming a  part of her world, even if it meant taking this long descent down the staircase in the rocks.

My heart was gripped by a new dark iciness.   Dark spectral  figures were staring at me from the rock  walls at the sides of the stares, their dark presence made even more alarming by their blackened eye sockets.  They were smallish, and seemed to resemble a colony of dark ameba under a microscope.  I stopped and studied them for a moment, taking comfort in knowing that they did not emerge from their rocky homes, but only stared with sinister derision, creating a sinking sensation in my heart.   These shadow creatures became sickening, and I had to try to re-think who I was and what I was doing here.

I stared back up the stairs at the remaining moonlight, and then back at the lady, who was beaming expressions designed to give me strength, so on I went, following this vision, taking each bend in the stairs behind the lady, as the last remnants of the world above became closed to my sight.

It was then that the first sounds of drums came to my ears...deep drums, with an eerie  ceremonial rhythm pounding without ceasing.

Doom...Doom.  Boom.

Doom...Doom...Boom.

The rhythm became hypnotic, and it was accompanied by the sound of Pan-flutes, whose delirious high pitches rolled through the air with penetrating annoyance.   The shadow-beings in the walls were becoming more animated, and the lady was descending the final stairs quickly, becoming more and more spectral; ghost-like  in her appearance, almost appearing as a glow.  As I watched in amazement and growing terror, the scene came to its edgy conclusion.

There, at the bottom of the stairs, was a clearing, with the steep sides of the rock looming up a hundred feet ot more. In this setting, the final reality of the evening was about to be revealed.

The musical sounds were being produced ty a spectral band of players.  The drummers appeared to be two pagan priests, garbed in rough woolen robes with hoods covering most of their faces.  The flutes were being played by a miserable trio of slave-prisoners, shackled at the wrists and ankles with long chains.  The were very short and stock, with shaved heads and burly bodies.  Each had a rough leather belt where strange cutting instruments were secured.  The bitter rhythms and the ethereal flutes played on and on till I thought I'd go mad.  The strange, ghostly shadow-creatures in the walls stared even more intently with their dark eyes.  Through it all the lady remained completely  calm, as if this strange realm had been her environment for ages, yet had no effect on her mood or bearing, which remained beautiful and confident, even in the midst of terror.

The little band of priests and slaves began circling round and round what seemed to be a primitive altar.   They took no notice of me, yet continued with their relentless ceremony, illumined only by their own spectral glow.

Suddenly the music stopped, and the lady seemed so tall and proud, beautiful and elegant to my senses, even in this time of fear and dread.  Astonishingly, she turned to me; gave me a sweet, yet strong glance of compassion, and removed her pendant.  Kissing the pendant, she then tossed it to me.  As I caught the pendant in my hand, I noticed how warm and glowing it felt, its red stone glowing with the high emotion of the moment.   How I clasped it dearly, still unaware of what was happening in this desolate depth.

The lady stood motionless before the vile altar and the brutal eremonials.  The priests barked orders to the slaves, who retired their flutes and began removing the  cutting devices from their belts.  The priests spoke  to them in a language I did not understand, but the sound was vulgar and repetitive, echoing in staccato, monosyllabic  viciousness.  The slaves instruments of torture included knives for skewing victim's entrails, and silvery axes for chopping, as well as sharpened tools for God knows what...removing the victim's hearts, I could only guess.

As he spectral slaves and priests stared to move toward the lady, another dark, low sound was heard, rumbling from the very rocks themselves.  Dimly, in the wall of the rocks the face of a huge male lion began to appear, growling and snarling at the festivities before him.   He seemed to be hungry and enraged, indignant and passionate.  His growls would almost shatter my eardrums with their horrid intensity, and he asserted himself as the main character in this spectral dungeon.   Even the shadow creatures began to disperse.

Finally desperate, his growls becoming more ferocious, and his spectral eyes fixed firmly on the altar, he sprang from the rocks, jumping into the scene, wreaking revenge on the hapless priests and their slaves, while the lady stood by, elegant an unharmed, with a most peaceful reassurance on her ghostly face.  The  huge lion-champion was ripping into the would-be  agents of sacrifice, with the passion of a lion at his prey.  digging claws into their ghostly flesh and ripping their heads from their shoulders with immense efficiency, tossing them against the rocks like toys.

In an instant the lady looked back at me with a questioning glance, and I began to realize that I was really in  mortal danger.

At once, I began my ascent up the stairs, and the giant lion  began noticing my flight from the scene.  As I climbed the stony stairs as fast as I could, my mind frozen with terror, and my eyes were wild with terror.

Though I tried as best I could, my efforts were too weak.  I could sense his coming for me, without looking back.  Then I turned my glance toward his, and could see the giant ghost-lion charging me in the night, thundering closer and closer, his strong, passionate growls piercing my consciousness.  Though I was innocent, he came for me, to kill and destroy, to give justice to  anyone who threatened the lady.

I knew this was the end.  I knew I would die in this instant, even though I didn't know what was really happening, I knew this was the final moment for me.  It was indeed the end.  Instinctively, I held up my hand in supplication and resignation as I stumbled on the stares, my feeble last defense, not realizing that the lady's pendant was still hot in my hand, dangling from my fingers.

Then, as the hot breath of the ghost-lion was reaching my nostrils, the huge beast suddenly stopped in his tracks.   For what seemed an eternity, I lay on the stairs holding up my hands, with my face turned away, while he studied me carefully, feeling his hot spectral breath pour over me at length.   Finally, to my horrid amazement, he gave me a lick with his raspy tongue, and began to purr, just like a kitten.  In a moment, he turned and strode back down the stares.

As soon as I felt free, I got up and scaled the rest of those stirs just as fast as I could, sprinting like a madman.   I came to the top and bounded out of the high ground like a jackrabbit, crying, panting and drooling in fear.   At last I found the campsite, and joined my friends.  I must have seemed like a trainwreck.  I stared straight ahead and moved back and forth in my seat.  They told me later that I could not talk, but looked scared to death. They later confided in me that I could talk about nothing, except mumbling something about a lady and a lion, dark faces, and drums.

Mr. Bradley became so concerned that he ordered a medical helicopter  flown to the island to pick me up.  Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital in Bangor, Maine.

The Docs gave me a series of tests and some sedatives and I came back to normal pretty quick, though.  They also took all my belongings, which included everything in my pockets and placed them in a packet.  That hospital gown was a pain in the keester, I can tell you.    As I regained my strength, I became more and more  embarrassed, and was eager to return to work right away.  After a few days, they released me and I was fee to travel home.   I got my clothes back and the packet with my stuff, too.  Funny thing is I've never opened it to this day.

Everyone thought that was a pretty good story. especially since it was from real life, and they all looked at each other like they were glad it had not happened to them, God forbid.

Michael and Andrea expressed their condolences at the disclosure of the story, at long last and wished me well with the continued healing process..  Later, as the girls migrated to their rooms to begn the next phase of the sleepover, I got the strangest feeling.  After telling that entire story, I had the strongest inclination to go to my room and find that packet.  How could I have never opened it?  Why was I not curious?  What could be in there?   I suddenly fell sway to the need to know.  When all seemed peaceful, I marched to my room and approached the drawer where the packet may have  been placed.   Yes...yes...there it was right under the socks.

The medical staff and packed it securely, and it was hard to open.  I got so frustrated that I took both hands and ripped it apart.  The objects fell onto the floor.  The room went suddenly quiet as my astonished hands trembled at picking up a shiny object...the lady's pendant,  with its mysterious red stone was staring right at me.

...

Description
Transfigured Night

"If, perchance, we stray from life's straight and narrow path,  we may be on a collision course for the great unseen."

"Hey everyone!  I think we may have seen the last of the Munchkins for this Halloween.     Those last few tirick-or-treaters have just about cleaned out our candy stash, and it's near about time to call it quits."

I was really having a great time.  It was the best Halloween in many a year.  I wanted to make sure the little spooks and goblins could visit Ian Dorset's house and leave with a half-way decent treat in their bags, especially this year, as I was hosting a Halloween sleep-over with my eleven year old daughter, Jessica, and two  of her friends, Jessica and Sophia.

Michael and Andrea, parents of Sophia, had agreed to join us for the spooky evening.   The girls had enjoyed  themselves so far, and took pride in their goofy gothic  costumes, which they had created with such care.  The girls had been very helpful in answering the doorbell for the endless stream of kids, all of whom were hoping for a really primo handout, and upsetting the dogs who barked mercilessly at each new ringing of the bell.   The domestic pandemonium gave us adults a ready-made excuse to kick back and down a couple of Coronas, which provided some much needed mellowness to the scene.  How I wished my wife, Sandra could have been there.  It had been five years since her fatal auto accident and I could just imagine how she would have relished a pleasant Halloween with the kids and the neighbors.  She loved holidays so much, and I missed her so terribly on all such occasions.

"Okay, it's time for the big story telling.  I've got the living room all cleared and darkened.  Come on, you guys.  You promised to tell us stories,"  Jess impatiently served notice.

"Yeah, let's go people.  We're wasting time,"  added Sophia.

"Well, Michael, you came here from Romania.  Don't you know some stories about Dracula, or legends of Transylvania or something,?" I questioned, desperately.

"Oh, no, man.   Transylvania is a beautiful place.  Nothing ever happens there.  The scariest things I've ever seen are when we immigrated to America and lived in Queens for a year," said Michael.

"What about you, Andrea.  Won't you tell us a scary story from Queens?"

"Ian, you know we all want you to tell us your story.  Honestly, we'd all like to hear what really happened to you that night in June a few years ago.   The girls, especially Jess, would love to hear the full version.  Let's all go to the living room now and begin.  Come, come.  I insist.  Besides, Sandra would want you to tell the story, too."  Andrea was a very persistent woman, especially just when you needed a boost in the right direction.

"Okay, okay," I finally relented.  Let's go in and get settled and I'll tell the story."

"Yay," was the collective response.

Once we were all assembled, and realizing that I could no longer avoid telling the tale, I began.

It all stared  with a  much anticipated trip to Elk Island Maine, a not-so-big island smack-dab in the North Atlantic, just off the Maine coast.   My boss at United Securities, Mr. Bradley. was wild about  fishing and was thinking of buying some land there.  Of course there was only about two months in the year when the cold north winds permitted much recreation, but he thought it was a really sweet spot, and was mad-keen to get his top representatives out there for a look-see, all at the company's expense, taking us with him on his yacht and doing a real fishing-camping thing.    That's when the fun began, or so it seemed.

We sailed on the company yacht, embarrassingly named The Investment,  arriving at Elk after encountering mild seas and a good tail wind.  It was the perfect June weather, and the prospects seemed like a fisherman's dream.  Naturally, fishing was not a big deal to me, but we were all there to pleased the boss, if you know what  I mean.  Camping and exploring were more to my liking, and, one afternoon,  we all hiked into the interior of the island, just to get away from the relentless winds near the coast.

I yacked a lot with Mr. Bradley as our entourage made its way up the trail.  "I wonder why they call it Elk Island?   I haven't seen an elk yet."

"Well, you don't see conies on Coney Island, either, but it makes a nice name, I guess, especially if you like rabbits,"  Mr. Bradley retorted.  "I'll bet there are no Elk on the island, but I'll tell you...there are rumors of other things."

"Oh, yeah? What other things?"

"Well, it's just rumors, but local legend has it that this island was a port for Viking ships sailing across the Atlantic  long ago.  You know...Norsemen.  It is said that there may be Viking treasure here somewhere.  The Norsemen  did explore all over the known world, you know, and could have brought treasure here for safe keeping, and a lot of other things, too, way before Columbus was even born."

"Wow, I'd never thought of that before.  Gee, what if this were once a Viking settlement.  Wouldn't that be cooler than cool."

"You bet.  That's what I like about you, Ian...always thinking outside the box.  Maybe we'll get lucky and discover some deep dark secret treasure, and we can kiss United Securities goodbye forever.  Oops, did I say that?  I can't talk like that.  I'm the boss for cryin' out loud.  Yes. Yes.  Forget Vikings and treasure.  I want you  to work your ass off when we get back to New York."

As luck would have it, we actually found a picturesque natural clearing in the forest, with the highest point of the island nearby.  It was there that we made our camp for the night, with Mr. Bradley making a fire, and the rest of the guys trying to pitch a tent without embarrassing themselves.  Camping always turns out to be more work than we imagine, and we were a little out of practice.  As the guys began to get a good campfire blazing, twilight was quickly approaching, and I became  itchy to see some of the strange  landscape before the sun was gone.  For me, dinner would have to wait.

I mentioned to the guys that I wanted to go exploring while I still had enough light, and they told me there might not be any dinner left if I was gone too long.  Challenging them to keep it  hot till I returned, I strolled off into the near-darkness.

I made my way, cautiously, out of the glade, making sure I could see the campfire as i looked back.  The blue-black night was quickly descending, yet an odd curiosity kept imploring me ahead, to the higher ground, as if...as if I had strolled into something ancient and grand.  I was amazed at myself as I was almost drooling with strong anticipation.  I glanced back at the campsite, and it seemed much further away than I thought it should be, but I pressed on up the slope, into the night, nonetheless.

As I arrived at the top of the bluff, I was awestruck by the sights before me.  The half-moon was very bright in the sky, and the sea was clearly visible, the reflections shimmering in the distance.  Then, to my amazement, I stumbled over some stones, and observed that I was standing on a stone foundation, obviously man-made.  My heart began to beat faster with the thrill of new discovery, and I looked back to make sure I could still see the campfire.  It now seemed like a tiny dot in the night, and I began to feel as lost as a was exhilarated.   It was the exhilaration that won out, giving me a rush that blinded my senses to any sense of caution or reason.

At that moment, I suddenly felt eyes piercing through me, as if stabbed by the curiosity of another's gaze.  I turned around slowly and beheld her for the first time.  Yes, her...a she-being so strange and beautiful that my exhilaration was quickly cast into dreamy supplication.  Her lovely cascading hair and penetrating gaze captured my rapt  attention.  She was adorned in some type of primitive finery, with furs and skins,  all sewn together with matchless artistry.  She wore lavish jewelry at the wrists and ankles, each one masterly crafted with opulent and mysterious designs.   The focal point of her appearance was a large pendant, with a reddish stone that seemed to have a  mysterious glowing presence.   She seemed like an aristocratic lady of ancient vintage.  She carried a little lantern with her, which provided some much needed glow.

The lady did not speak, but stared at me with questioning expressions.  I began speaking to her, saying silly little things.  "Good evening.  It's getting a little chilly, isn't it?   It's good to meet you.  Is this where you live?"   My idiotic remarks hung in the air like a cloud, and then the lady relaxed her face and began to smile just a bit, perhaps having mercy on my awkwardness.  She spoke not a word but gestured for me to follow her.  I stood there motionless, and she gestured to me a second time, making me feel that she understood my vulnerability and confusion.  At once I felt relieved, and began to feel that I trusted her somehow.  The feeling was made all the stronger by the realization of her sight resemblance to my Sandra, although I quickly put the thought out of my mind.  There seemed to be little room in my senses for anything but the lady and  this new enchanted  realm.

My beautiful hostess walked ahead of me, always about twenty feet, or so.  We came to what seemed like a hidden staircase, with great stone stairs proceeding down and down into the darkness.  The sides of the stairs were carved into the bedrock, and seemed dark, overpowering and menacing.  The lady's lantern was the only light, other than the waning light of the distant  moon .  My respect and curiosity implored me forward, descending each stair behind her as she turned and looked back at me with surprising confidence.  I followed dutifully, now feeling in my heart like I was becoming a  part of her world, even if it meant taking this long descent down the staircase in the rocks.

My heart was gripped by a new dark iciness.   Dark spectral  figures were staring at me from the rock  walls at the sides of the stares, their dark presence made even more alarming by their blackened eye sockets.  They were smallish, and seemed to resemble a colony of dark ameba under a microscope.  I stopped and studied them for a moment, taking comfort in knowing that they did not emerge from their rocky homes, but only stared with sinister derision, creating a sinking sensation in my heart.   These shadow creatures became sickening, and I had to try to re-think who I was and what I was doing here.

I stared back up the stairs at the remaining moonlight, and then back at the lady, who was beaming expressions designed to give me strength, so on I went, following this vision, taking each bend in the stairs behind the lady, as the last remnants of the world above became closed to my sight.

It was then that the first sounds of drums came to my ears...deep drums, with an eerie  ceremonial rhythm pounding without ceasing.

Doom...Doom.  Boom.

Doom...Doom...Boom.

The rhythm became hypnotic, and it was accompanied by the sound of Pan-flutes, whose delirious high pitches rolled through the air with penetrating annoyance.   The shadow-beings in the walls were becoming more animated, and the lady was descending the final stairs quickly, becoming more and more spectral; ghost-like  in her appearance, almost appearing as a glow.  As I watched in amazement and growing terror, the scene came to its edgy conclusion.

There, at the bottom of the stairs, was a clearing, with the steep sides of the rock looming up a hundred feet ot more. In this setting, the final reality of the evening was about to be revealed.

The musical sounds were being produced ty a spectral band of players.  The drummers appeared to be two pagan priests, garbed in rough woolen robes with hoods covering most of their faces.  The flutes were being played by a miserable trio of slave-prisoners, shackled at the wrists and ankles with long chains.  The were very short and stock, with shaved heads and burly bodies.  Each had a rough leather belt where strange cutting instruments were secured.  The bitter rhythms and the ethereal flutes played on and on till I thought I'd go mad.  The strange, ghostly shadow-creatures in the walls stared even more intently with their dark eyes.  Through it all the lady remained completely  calm, as if this strange realm had been her environment for ages, yet had no effect on her mood or bearing, which remained beautiful and confident, even in the midst of terror.

The little band of priests and slaves began circling round and round what seemed to be a primitive altar.   They took no notice of me, yet continued with their relentless ceremony, illumined only by their own spectral glow.

Suddenly the music stopped, and the lady seemed so tall and proud, beautiful and elegant to my senses, even in this time of fear and dread.  Astonishingly, she turned to me; gave me a sweet, yet strong glance of compassion, and removed her pendant.  Kissing the pendant, she then tossed it to me.  As I caught the pendant in my hand, I noticed how warm and glowing it felt, its red stone glowing with the high emotion of the moment.   How I clasped it dearly, still unaware of what was happening in this desolate depth.

The lady stood motionless before the vile altar and the brutal eremonials.  The priests barked orders to the slaves, who retired their flutes and began removing the  cutting devices from their belts.  The priests spoke  to them in a language I did not understand, but the sound was vulgar and repetitive, echoing in staccato, monosyllabic  viciousness.  The slaves instruments of torture included knives for skewing victim's entrails, and silvery axes for chopping, as well as sharpened tools for God knows what...removing the victim's hearts, I could only guess.

As he spectral slaves and priests stared to move toward the lady, another dark, low sound was heard, rumbling from the very rocks themselves.  Dimly, in the wall of the rocks the face of a huge male lion began to appear, growling and snarling at the festivities before him.   He seemed to be hungry and enraged, indignant and passionate.  His growls would almost shatter my eardrums with their horrid intensity, and he asserted himself as the main character in this spectral dungeon.   Even the shadow creatures began to disperse.

Finally desperate, his growls becoming more ferocious, and his spectral eyes fixed firmly on the altar, he sprang from the rocks, jumping into the scene, wreaking revenge on the hapless priests and their slaves, while the lady stood by, elegant an unharmed, with a most peaceful reassurance on her ghostly face.  The  huge lion-champion was ripping into the would-be  agents of sacrifice, with the passion of a lion at his prey.  digging claws into their ghostly flesh and ripping their heads from their shoulders with immense efficiency, tossing them against the rocks like toys.

In an instant the lady looked back at me with a questioning glance, and I began to realize that I was really in  mortal danger.

At once, I began my ascent up the stairs, and the giant lion  began noticing my flight from the scene.  As I climbed the stony stairs as fast as I could, my mind frozen with terror, and my eyes were wild with terror.

Though I tried as best I could, my efforts were too weak.  I could sense his coming for me, without looking back.  Then I turned my glance toward his, and could see the giant ghost-lion charging me in the night, thundering closer and closer, his strong, passionate growls piercing my consciousness.  Though I was innocent, he came for me, to kill and destroy, to give justice to  anyone who threatened the lady.

I knew this was the end.  I knew I would die in this instant, even though I didn't know what was really happening, I knew this was the final moment for me.  It was indeed the end.  Instinctively, I held up my hand in supplication and resignation as I stumbled on the stares, my feeble last defense, not realizing that the lady's pendant was still hot in my hand, dangling from my fingers.

Then, as the hot breath of the ghost-lion was reaching my nostrils, the huge beast suddenly stopped in his tracks.   For what seemed an eternity, I lay on the stairs holding up my hands, with my face turned away, while he studied me carefully, feeling his hot spectral breath pour over me at length.   Finally, to my horrid amazement, he gave me a lick with his raspy tongue, and began to purr, just like a kitten.  In a moment, he turned and strode back down the stares.

As soon as I felt free, I got up and scaled the rest of those stirs just as fast as I could, sprinting like a madman.   I came to the top and bounded out of the high ground like a jackrabbit, crying, panting and drooling in fear.   At last I found the campsite, and joined my friends.  I must have seemed like a trainwreck.  I stared straight ahead and moved back and forth in my seat.  They told me later that I could not talk, but looked scared to death. They later confided in me that I could talk about nothing, except mumbling something about a lady and a lion, dark faces, and drums.

Mr. Bradley became so concerned that he ordered a medical helicopter  flown to the island to pick me up.  Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital in Bangor, Maine.

The Docs gave me a series of tests and some sedatives and I came back to normal pretty quick, though.  They also took all my belongings, which included everything in my pockets and placed them in a packet.  That hospital gown was a pain in the keester, I can tell you.    As I regained my strength, I became more and more  embarrassed, and was eager to return to work right away.  After a few days, they released me and I was fee to travel home.   I got my clothes back and the packet with my stuff, too.  Funny thing is I've never opened it to this day.

Everyone thought that was a pretty good story. especially since it was from real life, and they all looked at each other like they were glad it had not happened to them, God forbid.

Michael and Andrea expressed their condolences at the disclosure of the story, at long last and wished me well with the continued healing process..  Later, as the girls migrated to their rooms to begn the next phase of the sleepover, I got the strangest feeling.  After telling that entire story, I had the strongest inclination to go to my room and find that packet.  How could I have never opened it?  Why was I not curious?  What could be in there?   I suddenly fell sway to the need to know.  When all seemed peaceful, I marched to my room and approached the drawer where the packet may have  been placed.   Yes...yes...there it was right under the socks.

The medical staff and packed it securely, and it was hard to open.  I got so frustrated that I took both hands and ripped it apart.  The objects fell onto the floor.  The room went suddenly quiet as my astonished hands trembled at picking up a shiny object...the lady's pendant,  with its mysterious red stone was staring right at me.

...