Purgatory
Petroglyphs
Walking gingerly over the boulder,
Joe was looking downward as the boulder dropped off. At the edge the incline was severe but Joe
had his feet dug in. Looking below saw
the pathway he wanted. The rubble pile
from the avalanche stretched off in the distance but it was easy to skirt, just
took some time. Easing back up the slope
of the boulder, Joe turned around to backtrack and begin a swing around the
rock pile.
Off the boulder he scrambled, down
the slope to where the pile of rocks ended.
Around the heap Joe walked. Soon
he was around the rocks and began scrambling over the loose rocks, carefully
watching where he stepped. These rock
piles were notorious for snakes.
Stepping off the scree, his feet touched down on dirt. Up the slope was a scramble to the crevice he
could see between the boulders on the canyon wall. Stepping around a house size boulder, Joe
spied the path he was looking for. A
short ravine led back into the canyon wall.
The rock path was damp from a small
spring that oozed out from under the boulder.
The air was cooler from the dampness and ahead was the goal.
A whole wall of rock art, the
Indians had came here for the cool spring and left their sign. In the coolness of the small spring they
could spend time chipping on the sandstone.
There were the circles, the deer, other animals, buffalo and signs of
the spirits.
Going on back into the crevice, Joe
discovered it was a cave, reaching back in the sandstone cliffs of the
canyon. Slipping the pack off, Joe
mounted a miners lamp on his cap and took out a flashlight. Putting the pack back on, he ventured on into
the darkness. Shining the flashlight on
the walls revealed paintings. The
Indians had been in here and from the light of the fire had marked the
walls. Most were faded yet a few glowed
in the light. Pulse was rushing, heart
was pounding, a treasure trove of ancient Indian art covered the rocks on the
caves entrance. Round and round the
flashlight traveled, revealing all types of petro glyphs and pictographs from
centuries ago.
On into the cave Joe walked, to see
what was deeper inside. A rock out
cropping narrowed the entrance and Joe had to turn sideways to get around the
rock. As he stepped past the out
cropping a cold wind whistled past him.
Shirt was waving and hair was standing on end. Taking another step the wind ended and there
was a cool breeze coming from the right.
Shining the light that direction, there was a small opening between the
rocks. Getting on knees, Joe shined the
light into the opening. Darkness was
revealed until there was a glint flashing back at him.
Waving the
flashlight around the glint stayed there.
Now it was curious, what was causing the reflection. On hand and knees he could crawl into the
opening. Turning on the miner’s lamp,
Joe got down and began crawling into the unknown. Cool air wafted past him, feeling good after
being the hot sun most of the day.
A short distance in, Joe stopped,
hair stood on end, he blanched, fear rolled over him. Out of the opening a wail began, the moan of
a crying woman. Backwards Joe began to
try and scramble but it wasn’t fast enough.
The low moaning built into a shrill cry, growing ever louder. Ears were on fire from the noise. Out of the small opening Joe scrambled as the
scream reached ear piercing levels.
Running to the daylight of the cave opening, both ears covered trying to
block the pain. Out into daylight he
popped. Eyes bulged out, face white and
ears covered.
In the daylight the scream subsided
to a low wail. Collapsing on the ground,
Joe lay there. Breathing going full
throttle, ears throbbing from pain.
Passed out, he laid there.
Coming back to consciousness, Joe
groaned, rubbed his ears, looked at a now dim sky. The sun was setting when Joe came around,
shadows were long. Sitting up, he looked
around, the ground was damp where he had lain, below were piles of rocks, above
were huge boulders. Where am I, What
happened, Joe was mumbling to himself.
There was no crevice nearby, no openings
in the cliff and no rock fall. Over
there he could see his truck, beside him was his pack. On his cap was the miner’s lamp and on the
ground was the flashlight. Stunned he
looked around in disbelief, how did I get here, he asks himself.
There is only a dim memory of Joe
scrambling over the boulders, climbing into the crevasse, finding the
petroglyphs and the cave. Then the wave
of the screaming rolled over Joe’s foggy thoughts. Covering his ears, he grimaces in pain as
painful memories flood over. Soon the
ache subsides and he looks around again, not recognizing anything. In a stupor, Joe sits there. Thoughts are going 100 gazillion per
second. Head is ringing, the mother of
all hangovers. Turning eyes, twist
around to survey the scene. Everything
is off kilter. Joe looks at himself,
asking, what happened to me.
In a daze, Joe stumbles to his pick
up, finds the water and sits down.
Taking sips, the cob webs become fuzzy.
Few more drinks and the fuzzier become clear. Collecting the thoughts of a rambling mind,
Joe accesses his situation. Walking back
to his pack, he picks it up, puts the flashlight in and lugs it back to the
truck. Into the cab he tosses the
pack. Going around to the other side Joe
crawls under the steering wheel. The
motor roars to life. Easing into gear,
Joe begins a puzzled trip home.
