Statues

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Minutes dragged on into hours and hours stretched until they seemed like days. Markus shuffled across the ground, leaving two long lines next to Cornelius’ evenly spaced prints.
It’s amazing, he thought to himself the man is more than twice my age and yet he seems to have more energy than me!
Nothing seemed different from the normal Cornelius, who would start sweating at even the sight of an incline; he was still pudgy, and he was still old. He looked the same.
I guess if you really want to be picky, he is a little paler. Actually, he’s not just a little paler! The man is almost grey.
After finding this, Markus began to notice other oddities that hadn’t been present before. Cornelius was moving in an almost mechanical way, his joints barely bending and never altering his pace. He seemed to be putting a lot of effort into lifting his feet, almost as if they were weighed down by an invisible stone.
“Cornelius? Are you OK?” The words of concern felt alien to Markus. When did he start caring?
Cornelius turned to face him. Markus involuntarily jumped back.
His eyes, He thought, a shiver rattling him to his core. They’re So...dead. Cornelius’ empty eyes were made only more terrifying by the smile plastered on his face which didn’t reach them.
“I’m fine Markus, do not worry.” His voice was cool and calculating.
There was more to it though. If it had just been that, then Markus could’ve blown it off. No, it was what was behind the voice. A subtext which made Markus’ blood run cold.
It whispered to him “Run Markus! Run!” It was in his empty eyes, his artificial smile and monotone voice; a warning of what was to come.
Every part of Markus’ being pleaded to heed the warning and bolt out of this God forsaken temple. Something, however, held him in place. He felt...actually, he didn’t know what he felt, but it was strong enough to keep him firmly planted in his spot on the dusty old bridge.
“Come Markus. Let us not delay further progress into the heart of this temple.” He waved his hand in a hollow gesture towards the path they had been pursuing. Markus’ eyes followed the hand. It was one solid shade of grey with chips and cracks along the joints. The entire effect was almost stone-like.
It’s just your imagination, Markus thought. He tried to shake it off, but it stuck in his mind and wouldn’t let go.
They continued on, Markus’ shuffling and Cornelius’ mechanical steps were the only thing disturbing the silence throughout the temple. It was almost eerily quiet. The sound of the earth shifting around them had long since stopped, leading Markus to wonder how far beneath the surface they were. Replacing the familiar creak and groan was a strange sliding sound. The sound made when one drug a heavy bag through the sand. Every now and then, this noise would be followed by a low, malicious laugh. Markus told himself that it was just the wind. Cornelius didn’t seem to notice.
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It had gotten too dark to see more than a meter beyond where they were standing. Markus took out the lantern, though he hated the idea of wasting the precious oil, and lit it. It cast a faint yellow glow which just barely mimicked that of the mysterious lighting in the upper levels of the temple. It flickered in an imaginary breeze. Scanning the halls as they walked, Markus noticed the sudden increase of statues around him. At first, there had been only the occasional small cat or bird. Once he even saw the statue of a snake, after nearly trampling it into the dust.
As they progressed, however, the statues grew in size. Not just in stature, but in species as well. The cats became dogs, dogs to wolves, and wolves to large game and predators. So absorbed in studying the statues around him, Markus didn’t notice that Cornelius had continued on without him. He also failed to notice the large statue of a bear and nearly walked into it’s gaping jaws. Startled, Markus lept back, almost extinguishing the delicate flame within the lantern. After establishing that it was nothing more than a statue, Markus began to take in the incredible amount of skill to carve such a great beast. It’s huge teeth were barred, lips drawn back into a hungry snarl. Every single hair stood on end. Even the bear’s empty eyes were full of a terrifying, animalistic hate. Only the slight cracking and flat, grey colour gave away it’s lifelessness.
Leaning in to further examine the details of the mouth, Markus could’ve sworn he had heard a low growl escape the bear’s throat.
No, wait. He leaned in closer, turning his ear to the bear. I do hear growling.
Looking up at the statue, Markus’ brow creased with confusion.
But, how?
Before he could think of an explanation, the bear turned a vibrant blue. Markus fell back in alarm, smashing the lantern and successfully putting out the flame. His mouth fell open in shock and awe as he witnessed an exact replica of the bear statue recreated before him in a semi-transparent, blue energy. The only difference was, this one could move.
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“Eeeeaaahhh!”
Cornelius stopped dead in his tracks, the cry waking him from his trance-like state. Had that been Markus yelling? Looking around, Cornelius realized that he had been walking alone for quite some time. He reached up to scratch his head, only to feel the coolness of stone in its place. Bringing it down to eye level, Cornelius felt a very detached form of fear as he turned his hand and examined it. It weighed greatly on his arm, making it difficult to move. The stone was slowly spreading up his forearm and rendering his left side almost useless. Judging by the weight in his boots, his feet had befallen the same fate.
“Look out!”
Cornelius looked up just in time to step out of the way as Markus shot past. Turning to see the cause of all this ruckus, Cornelius found himself face to face with a monstrous blue bear. It uttered a low growl then opened its jaws, releasing an ear shattering roar. Vaguely realizing that now would be a good time to move, Cornelius turned to follow Markus a quickly as his rapidly deteriorating body would allow.
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Sprinting down the halls, Markus glanced back to see Cornelius following him and the spirit bear in close pursuit. He had to move faster. He faced forwards again and pushed himself. The bear released another deafening roar. The walls shook, statues fell, and Markus nearly lost his balance, tripping over a statue of a wolf. After stabilizing himself, Markus began running again. He failed to notice that the wolf had begun to glow much like the bear had. The glowing spread from statue to statue. Their spirits filled the halls, illuminating the darkness with an ominous blue glow. Some joined the chase, others just stood around. Through the transparent crowd, Markus saw a small door hanging slightly ajar. In one final burst of energy, he bolted into the room. Cornelius joined him only seconds before the door was slammed shut.
Gasping for breath, Markus and Cornelius fell to the floor. Resting their backs against the cool stone walls, they listened as the animal cries faded into the distance. Even after they were gone, it was a while before anyone spoke.
“Are you OK?” Cornelius asked. His voice was still flat, but the concern seemed genuine.
Markus nodded and stood up to search the room they were now trapped in. It was fairly large with walls eight feet high and around the same in width. There was very little in the way of decoration besides a few torches, thankfully lit. Seeing how they no longer possessed a lantern, the only lighting they had would need to be supplied by the temple itself. At the far end of the room, there was another door. It was much larger than the door they had come in through and visibly older as well. The wood was rotting at places and seemed to be slightly waterlogged. The metal bands holding the door were rusted beyond the point of being useful. A large ring, also very rusted, served as the door handle. On either side of the door was a statue of a guard. The one on the right was in armor that looked as if it were from ancient Rome! He was holding a spear around 4 feet long pointed towards Markus, as if he were trying to impale him. His face was contorted in what could only be a battle cry.
The guard on the right looked less like a guard, and more like an English naval officer. He was not holding any sort of weapon and did not look very menacing. In fact, he looked surprised. He had the look of a child who had just been caught with his hand in a jar of sweets. This child, however, must have been caught by a ghost. For the man’s eyes screamed in terror.
Chilled by the contrast and shaken by the realism, Markus hesitated in opening the door. He looked back at Cornelius. The man was nearly the same grey as the statues, his eyes were those of a deadman. He stood behind Markus looking both dejected and blank at the same time.
What’s happening to him? Markus thought. Is this what happened to these guards? What about the animals. The idea of Cornelius, trapped here, in the cursed temple forever, filled Markus with a sadness previously unknown to him. I would’ve never gotten this far without him. I can’t let him die.
With a new sense of determination, Markus pulled the door open and stepped into the room.
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Once inside, he pulled the door closed. It made an immutable thud as it did. From outside, Markus could faintly hear Cornelius nearing the door and slid the bolt in place, keeping it closed forever. He turned from the door, his one chance at escape now gone.
How strange. He thought as he scanned the room. I could’ve sworn I’d seen this place before.
Indeed, there was something familiar about this place. The walls were only just higher than the top of Markus’ head. It was only five feet around the edge of the entire room. The air was heavy with a distinct smell that he recognized from that first bridge. Roses and that second smell. It had been much less noticeable before, but here, in this room, it nearly overpowered him. The smell of decay, of death.
Markus shuddered at this realization and began walking around the room’s perimeter. The walls were etched with carvings such as those seen throughout the entire temple. These were different though, they were newer and looked almost familiar. Following the story, it dawned on him.
This is me.
The jungle, the stone, the statues, it was all there. This was the story of the journey he was on now! At the very end of the third wall, he saw his dream. The room, the statue, the blood.
How could someone know this? I never told anyone about that dream!
A sudden cold swept over him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. In the back of the room, the story seemed to contine. Wiping the dust from the wall, Markus read.
This isn’t me. I never did any of this.
The back told the story of a man and his crew. They were all depicted in their early thirties. They, much like Markus, had found the temple by mistake. As the story progressed, the group seemed to shrink. From fifteen men to ten, ten to three. By the end there was only one. That last man had been in this very room where Markus now stood. That was all there was. There was nothing of the man leaving. Nothing of him getting home safe.
Feeling oddly saddened at the story, Markus turned to find himself face to face with his father.
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“No,” Markus’ voice waived and cracked as he spoke. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!”
He had fallen to the floor, clutching the sides of his head. How could that be his father? Cold and unmoving, so artificial. He didn’t believe it. His dream, that statue had been his father. That was where he had seen this all before. Was this all just a dream?
“No, no, no.” Markus rocked back and forth, whimpering.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Standing up, Markus ran for the door. In the process, he knocked the statue to the floor.
“Gahh!”
When the statue shattered, Markus felt as if he had shattered as well. Enduring the pain, he slammed into the door.
“Cornelius! Cornelius! Help!”
Markus pounded his fists into the door over and over. Remembering the lock, he slid the bolt out of place. Pushing against the door, he managed to open it just enough to know that he was never getting out. The stone form of Cornelius blocked the doorway. He shut the door again and turned to face the room. When his eyes fell on the statue’s remains Markus shrieked in pain. The room began to go white as his vision faded.
Clawing at his eyes, Markus fell beside what was once his father. A cruel, poisonous laugh filled the air. That sliding from before traced a path through the sand towards him. The smell of death growing stronger and stronger. A cool, bony hand with long, yellow nails fell upon Markus’ face. He stopped writhing and just lay there whimpering. He did not dare to open his eyes.
A low voice, smooth as silk whispered to him, “Join them, Markus. Join Cornelius. Join your father.”
Markus felt a single nail tracing down his cheek and under his chin. It pressed into his throat and pulled him to his feet.
“Open your eyes, Markus. Open your eyes and face your doom”
Markus’ eyes flew open, forced by some unknown power. A face, pale as stone with empty eyes filled his vision. Snakes where her hair should be twist around her gaunt face. She opened her mouth and a shrill, piercing scream filled the room. She lunged for him.
Blood mixed with the sand and the stone.