Beware. Old evils still roam this earth. Letters from an uncle. 1.

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To my nephew Matthew,

There are evil things that still walk this earth. Old, dark, things that you should never know about. Creatures that live in the places between places. Gaps in our world that the eldest of beings luxuriate in. Devoid of all light, all goodness, all life but them.

I'm writing this to you now, from my bed at the hospital, in a moment of rare clarity where my mind can traverse both worlds. I see, feel, can think again. If even for a short while, I wish to get my story out so that you do not make the same mistakes. For they are easy to make if you are curious of mind, able of body, and willing of spirit. Which I was back those many months ago when I first encountered my neighbor.

He was a shy man. Short, squirrely, always fidgeting about with at least three books hooked in the nook of his arm. More than likely four or five. Glasses sat precariously at the end of his nose, only partially obscuring his eyes which shone with an intensity reserved for those on quests of old. You could tell he had a purpose, and I think that's what attracted me to him. For I too sought a purpose.

My life was waning. Though my health was good all that I treasured, or felt that I should treasure, slipped through my fingers like fine grains of sand. The tighter I tried to ball my hand and keep some, the faster they fell away. The future was growing grim for me. Too many questions plagued my mind, haunted my sleep, kept me from rest.

The sun was bright that day, though it's warmth was lost on me. A chill had firmed itself in my shoulders and I had set about to do something useful to distract myself, though I cannot remember what now. I found myself in front of my place, staring idly into the street as cars passed by, hand resting gently on a bin, when I saw him.

Roger, I believe his name was. No, it was mostly definitely Roger. Why a detail like that seems so slippery I cannot say. Perhaps because my mind seeks to run from these memories. The ones where that man, that beast of a man, appeared.

He was crossing the street, focused intently on something directly in front of him, brown leather case swinging from one hand, books protected by the other. His world as narrow as mine, apparently, as he was about to be hit by a car.

'Hey you!' I called loudly. Nothing, again, 'Watch out!' A harsh honk from the approaching driver seemed to punctuate my warning which stirred him from his reverie moments before he took one path I was considering.

Oh how I rue this moment. That instant where I could have changed my cruel fate, turned from a future that became the tortured existence I now exist within. But, could I have lived with myself after for having kept quiet? I do not know.

'Oh, hey there!' he said trying to wave with one of his loaded arms succeeding only in spilling his books onto the pavement. His eyes flashed, just for a moment, as they met mine. The smile that spread to his face, vague, inviting and mysterious. Looking back, I know what was going through is mind and damn him for those thoughts that he brought into reality. Luring me into places I should not have gone.

I smiled in return, 'You should be careful. There are a lot of reckless drivers here.' Crossing the street, I moved to help him gather his load. The titles of the books that I handed to him intrigued me.

Quantum Mechanics – A look at reality through a different lens
The Devil and You – A historical perspective on angels, demons, and gods
Garden to live – A guide to growing your own food
Truth in Lies – What was the bible really talking about

And there were still more hidden within his arms. 'Looks like you're in for some heavy reading,' I joked half-heartedly. 'Do you garden?'

Moments passed as he considered an answer. 'Yes, no....' he trailed off. 'Yes. Yes I am.' he nodded. 'Of a sorts.' Again, that smile, those eyes.

'My names Thomas. I live here,' pointing back at the apartment building. 'Are you new to the neighborhood?'

'No. Not really. I've lived here for a long time. But, perhaps it's because I rarely go out. My name is Roger. Roger Stone. My house is there,' pointing to a small unassuming and well hidden two-story down the street.

Trees, heavy with leaves and thick with branches littered the front yard. A place you could walk by a hundred, a thousand times and never look twice. Until someone pointed it out. Then, it's place, it's position, it's appearance, burned itself into your mind to be noticed on each passing.

'I must thank you for saving my life. Not many people would have.'

'Think nothing of it. I'm sure anyone else would have done the same.'

'Perhaps.' An awkward pause filled the space between us. 'May I invite you over for a chat. Perhaps our meeting was meant to be. I've been looking for someone to help me with...with,' another long pause,' a project I've been researching.' He looked up at me past the end of his nose, black flecks of pupils clearly visible against white. 'It's something that could change the world.'

Meant to be...an odd way to put it. But, what else was me for the day to do. More of the same which had brought me to this point. I was looking for a direction and fate had brought me a star to follow. How far it would take me I had no idea. No idea at all. To the ends of the earth, and far past. But, we are not there yet. At least you are not.

My answer was simple, 'Sure, why not,' and with it my fate was sealed.

His smile...oh how it's burned into my eyes. Such depths to such a simple expression. And the darkness in those depths of which I had no idea.

Forgive me. My mind grows dim here as once again it begins to struggle. I must take a break from this letter. Stay patient, keep vigilant. Do not always follow the star that first appears to you no matter how much you feel fate has had it's hand in it. For that fate might not be what you expect, or what you want. I see the other shore from where I lay and must fight to keep my distance. Wait for my return. Hopefully it will not be long. But, know there are things worse than death out there.

Your Uncle,

Thomas