VEIN

A film was migrating from around the entire perimeter, making its way toward the center. Within five minutes, the entire shiny surface was obscured. And the film was thickening by the second. It was like watching a time-lapse video of new skin forming on a large, open third-degree burn. We were mesmerized. The ‘wound’ was fully healed now and was virtually indistinguishable to the eye from the rock wall around it. When Cyril scratched a line in the still quite soft surface, it would completely ‘heal’ within thirty seconds or so, leaving only a slight scar. We compared these scars to the graphics we had discovered on the shaft walls and found them to be very similar, if not identical. The only difference was the new scars still felt slightly soft to the touch and the old ones looked and reacted to our abusive probing like natural rock.
Cyril had a frightened look on his pale face, and quietly mumbled, “Curiouser and curiouser.” I was just standing there with my mouth open, breathing a little erratically. I slowly turned, looked at Cyril and said, “Bullshit. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Cyril didn’t wrinkle his nose at my language this time. He spun around, ducked his head down and started hurriedly back up the shaft, leading the way toward the exit and civilization. His geologist pick was firmly gripped in his right hand, the knuckles white.

“…poignant and absorbing as well as truly mind-boggling. Beyond the engaging plot of the story, the writing style is magnificent.” —Nela’s Reviews, Goodreads