Riches To Rags

As an entry for @sammosk's Creative Competition (https://steemit.com/creativecomp/@sammosk/creative-competition-all-are-welcome-new-structure-more-fair) I am writing the following story:

Riches To Rags

I wiped the dust off of my jeans and recited once more, "I so hate dust. I could-a growed up in the city, made a fine livin' for me an' a good, sturdy wife. But nooo, I had to decide my fortunes were elsewhere. Why a mountain side? I dunno... maybe I'm jus' craaazy!"

I listened with the briefest of smiles to the hollow echo and the lilting criticism that it brought back. I spat and pulled my kerchief up over my mouth. Sand and grit, a hot barreling wind, and no water to be seen for miles. This was the life I had made for myself. And no family either. I breathed in and just shook my head. Bacon, my horse - yes, I named him Bacon because in the West you may have to eat your own Horse to survive, and I wanted a tasty horse - was tied to the post that I had drilled into the ground a couple nights before. I had brought just enough water to fill a small trough that I had made for him as well as 2 waterskins that hung from my waist.

Thinking of the water made me thirsty. "Dang, I think a drop right 'bout now would be great, but I dunno how long I'll be here today. And the sun's already bakin' me. Hear that Bacon? I made a joke. Bakin' and Bacon." Of course, Bacon didn't respond at all... I probably would've dropped a load in my pants if he had.

Bacon was sheltered as much as possible by an outcropping with nearly-full shade all around him, so he should be able to make it without too much trouble. His mane was coarse and his fur was brown-and-bristled... he was actually a pretty stupid animal, as horses went. He didn't do tricks, didn't run fast, didn't look good, and didn't even seem to know his own name most of the time. I couldn't believe there could be such a dumb horse, but there he was. Then again, for a Dollar-Twenty-Seven, you didn't really expect a magnificent steed.

I turned back to the switch-back that I was climbing and ducked into a small outcrop to catch the shade while I could. My boots left flat prints in the sand, only to be blown away on the wind. I wiped the dust from my forehead and pushed onward up the slope, curving around towards the side of the mountain. Sweat trickled down my cheeks and soaked into the kerchief covering my mouth. I hated the taste of sweat and I loathed this kind of heat.

"If this search don't pan out," I breathed out lowly, my chest burning with the exertion, "I'm on the next wagon headin' East."

I braced myself against the hot stones, their hidden heat singing the palms of my hands. I gulped hard and pressed onward. The sun was midway towards the horizon and I longed for the cooler shade of the evening; however, I didn't long to be out where mountain lions could attack during the night. I needed to find the cavern. I thought it was just around this final bend. I breathed a sigh of relief as my eyes located the large opening. I felt at my waist for my globe lantern, the one that weighed so much less.

"Ah, my tinder box... there it is." I said, producing a steel block and my chunk of flint. The tinder lit and I dropped it in the globe's kerosene-filled center. The tiny flame almost went out with the rushing wind just before blooming a hundredfold into a shining globe.

The mouth of the cavern was lit for about 10 feet, showing a flat sandstone slab. There were some scuff marks in the floor, but they looked to be very old. I took a swig from my waterskin and closed it up. Letting it fall free to hang at my waist again, I yanked the kerchief off and wiped my face. As I moved deeper into the cavern, the air became musty but cooler, shaded as it was.

I moved cautiously inside the cavern, knowing the gold deposit had to be inside this cave. I had already searched about 13 other ones with no luck. This just had to be the one. It had to be.

"Anybody home?" I called inside. Of course there was no response. "Echo echo echo." I pretended to be my own echo like so many children do."

The flat slab was smooth, but slightly rippled, with a gradual decline that took me deep inside the mountain. I walked for what felt like hours, wondering if it was going to ever end. After a while longer even, the floor suddenly become a very steep incline. I tried to claw for a hold, but I just scraped knuckles and fingernails as I screamed and slid. Shards of glass and the embers of fire flew out and over my head as the globe lantern shattered to bits against the rock.

I landed on a flat surface far below. It felt as if my leg snapped, but when I felt down its length the skin was smooth and unmarred. The bones felt solid. I tried to get to my feet and I heard a popping sound as the joint shifted back into place. It hurt, but I could manage the pain.

There was a hazy sort of lighting all around me. I followed it to the source, limping along the rounded contour of the walls. "I wonder where it's leadin' me? I hope there's bunches of gold. I can already feel the riches."

The walls smoothed out and I followed it down a tight corridor with reflected metal veining the walls. I was astonished at the amount of copper and silver that branched out in a multitude of directions. Picks and hammers and chisels. That's what I would bring back next time. And rope and hooks.

"Ok, where's my gold?" I asked. No response, but as I walked a few steps further on I ended up kicking something. When I looked down, it was a skeleton that had broke to pieces across the floor. "Looks like you didn't make it, sir."

I was going to make it to the gold. Then again, it was quite simple to do. I entered the next chamber and there, in a deep hollow in the floor, rested piles of gold nuggets and chunks of gold. It shone bright and reflected as only gold can do. I felt the chill of excitement. I had never seen so much gold in all my life. I just wanted to jump in the middle of it. So that's exactly what I did.

I leaped through the air and landed on concrete, white as chalk and flat as anything. I heard a hubbub of conversation. Large metal frames spiked into the sky, squared off like some of those buildings that they were starting to put together back in New York. These reached so far up into the sky that I think I could reach God by just standing on top of them.

"Looks like New York City for damned sure, just a million miles taller!" I exclaimed.

"It is New York City, idiot!" A man answered to my right. He was wearing the most outlandish outfit, slacks that looked like plastic and a jacket that was puffed out and striped in angles with multiple colors. A weird hat was on the man's head. "Where have you been living? under a rock?"

"Nevada," I responded, irritated. I looked around and my mind tried to shut down. So many people. Where had so many people come from?

Crowds were at corners of the concrete walkways. On yellow posts were glowing lights in the shapes of people. I never seen such things before, and I was ready to run. My eyes flicked from person to person, then to big metal shapes with wheels... metal wagons? where were the horses? this was not the New York City I knew. How did I get here and where was my gold?

I stood and shrugged off some hands that were reaching for me. They wouldn't get me or my gold. It was mine. "You can't have my gold!!" I screamed. Then I turned and darted out on to the black-topped carriage way path. I felt a bone-crushing force against my arm and leg. I heard them snapping and breaking, felt the instant pain, then my head was banging off metal. I heard a swirling of various shouting voices. They sounded concerned. Where was I again? Where was my gold?

The world circled inward in blackness. Darkness enfolded me. I could feel rain somewhere. It was on my arm. Oh, it's gone now. Tears? Raining tears?

I swam through a murky depth of my mind, seeing images that didn't quite fit. A businessman, a cowboy, a slice of bacon and a brown-haired horse. Sand, shadows, skyscrapers, limos, wagons, and a gun. A name floated, and it was my name. A name floated, and it was not mine. I was two distinct personalities, two distinct people. I breathed faster as the pair crowded over me. My eyes flipped open. My eyes darted around the hospital room. It was my own room at the hospital. There was the doctor.

"Do you know me?" asked Dr. Sanderford. She always spoke with that clipped speech pattern, like she had to cut the words into pieces before spitting them out. She was super-sweet though. "Do you know where you are?"

"Yes," I answered. "And no."

"More manifestations?" she asked, to which I nodded. "Can you describe it?"

I told of my life in the old west and my search for the Cave of Gold. I told of the climb and the fall and then winding up at the corner of 2nd Ave and E 79th Street, a few long blocks from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I remembered as myself going to the Met so many times just to find normalcy and relaxation from my position as a Day Trader. I also remembered as myself leaving small city New York towards the West with all my worldly possessions and the hope of finding Gold. Well, I had found it, and nobody else could have it.

"You know which is you?" she asked.

I exhaled and tears welled up in my eyes, knowing the gold was gone. All that money was gone. My family was gone. My life was meaningless. I nodded, tears rolling down my face.

"Hi, it's been a very long time since you spoke to me," she told me. "I have been waiting for you. I am here for you."

I couldn't talk, and still wished I wasn't me. It was just too painful.

"Here," she said, offering her hand to me. "Come with me and we'll make it alright again."

She explained to me how I had been a Day Trader with a small firm that was growing and that I had made some very large deals, worth millions, all in Gold Futures and Bitcoin. She then told me how I took my family for granted and they had left me. After that, she further detailed to me just how I had made poor trades and had lost millions in a single day, losing my job that very day. She finished by telling me how I had become suicidal and had been found with a gun, ready to shoot.

"Why was I outside?" I asked.

"You were released. This is your third time coming back in. I don't think you'll be getting out so soon this time. I'm so sorry."

_ "Why are you telling me all this?"_

"I'm not, you are," she responded. Then the image before me shattered like glass. There were two doctors in the corner, and one of them was Dr. Sanderford. She hadn't said a word beyond asking me if I knew where I was. She seemed to be whispering to a man on her left side, scribbling notes in her tiny notebook.

I don't think I ever saw the outside world again, not the real one at least. I have spent years trying to figure out what is real, not knowing if even I was real. It happened one day, though, today, that I got my hands on some pills.

I don't know how I got them. I don't know why I have them. I'm staring at the colored coating. I know some of them are sleeping pills, but some I am just hoping are more lethal than that. I choke on the pills as I pop them into my mouth. I feel the darkness closing in. I don't know if this is real or not. Am I real? Am I just someone else's story, written down on Steemit? Am I just...?

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Ok, this went a bit darker than I had even expected. Sorry about that.