The Black Line

There was a time, once, when I lived in the grand city of Mount Augusta. I'd always enjoyed the proximity and diversity that came with a city of its stature and age, but in city folk there's always a desire to take a break from din and hurry of the big

city. When such an urge came over me, I found myself yearning for the rolling hills and friendly faces of Sinsylvannia, a small town wherein I'd rested at a rail stop years prior. In looking for this township on the map of rail lines, however, I was

unsuccessful. I decided, therefore, to contact an old acquaintance that I'd known to have overseen the construction of many of Mount Augusta's rail lines. He lived in a sooty brown apartment building, and, having no current employment, invited me to meet

him there to try to locate my Sinsylvannia. When I entered, my first sense was that of the rank smell of the place: a smell that may be most accurately described as that of wet, rocky compost. Once we'd exchanged pleasantries and caught one another up, I

made an attempt at practical conversation.§0 §0"So," I begin, warily, "with the understanding that you have of the rails under Augusta, I'm sure you know just about every stop on just about every line."§0 §0He beamed proudly.§0 §0"Well, I believe I can safely say

that I'm just about as knowledgeable as a man can get on the matter."§0 §0A look of perturbation came across his face briefly, then faded to staidness as he added,§0 §0"Other than, perhaps, the workers themselves."§0 §0"Regardless, I'm sure that you can help me find

what I'm searching for," I continued.§0 §0"I'd like to know where a small town on the yellow line is. I know for certain that it's on the western portion."§0 §0At this, he relaxed.§0 §0"Well, there are plenty of towns on the yellow line. Do you remember the name of

it?"§0 §0"If I recall, it's known as Sinsylvannia."§0 §0For an awkward moment after its mention, the fellow seemed to look directly through me with a hatred so searing that I was unsure if he would allow the parlance to continue. When the moment passed,

he blinked wildly, angrily, and avoided eye contact as he began to speak again.§0 §0"Where did you hear of that town?" he questioned, slowly but firmly.§0 §0I chuckled, although I know I shouldn't have.§0 §0"I've been there, a while ago. I'd like to go there again

if I can find a way."§0 §0"There is no way," he barked assuredly.§0 §0"Surely, there must be some way to go there on the yellow line. I've been there."§0 §0"§0§oDamn your yellow line, and damn your having been there!" §0 §0He took a moment to regain his composure.

I wasn't frightened of the man, for I'm quite large myself, but I'd have been a fool not to concern myself of his being.§0 §0"Are you alright? Would you like that I get you some water?"§0 §0"No, no," he replied, dazed, "I'll be fine."§0 §0He rubbed his

forehead with a calloused hand, whilst appearing to silently mouth something to himself.§0 §0"If it's such trouble, I could always just consult. . ." I trailed off as he lifted his head.§0 §0"You simply won't give up, will you?"§0 §0"Well," I replied

sheepishly, "it was a lovely town."§0 §0He paused for a moment, sitting up.§0 §0"Then I'll show you the line, and from there it's your responsibility."§0 §0We arrived at the rail station at an hour or so past midnight, as he insisted that the line was only

allowed to run at night. Once in the rail station, I followed him for what seemed like half an hour, until he finally came to a halt. There before us was an iron door, and surrounded by it was obsidian of a reddish hue, the likes of which I'd never seen

before. He hesitated a moment before advancing and pulling a lever beside the door, opening it with a rusty creak. He then gestured grimly for me to enter, as the undertaker may an aged man to his coffin. I stepped through the door and into the darkness

of the tunnel.§0 §0"My friend, I can't begin to-"§0 §0I was cut off by the sharp creak of the door shutting. No sooner had the door closed than I had heard a most obscene and disturbed wailing from behind it. The tunnel around me was unlit, and I, having no

source of light, found myself groping at the walls as my eyes adjusted. When they did, I was able to discern the makeup of my surroundings. The walls of the tunnel were of the same reddish obsidian as surrounded the door, stretching out as far as I could

see. On the ground, no rail was laid; however, there was a single sign which, upon further inspection, bore the name of the tunnel:§0 §0"THE BLACK LINE."§0 §0Disconcerted with my position and the bizzare flight of my acquaintance, I nonetheless decided there was

no other choice for me than to push forward. Having nowhere to put down a cart, I was forced to march on in dread of the long path that lay ahead of me. As I advanced, I found myself frequently glancing over my shoulder, in fear that something may have

slipped behind me and begun to follow. The tunnel went on, and I walked through it for what seemed to be hours, until I felt that I needed to take a moment to recollect my thoughts and rest my weary feet. As I sat, I looked at the obsidian surrounding me

with awe. It was, truly, unlike anything I'd seen before. As I admired it, one particular part of the wall caught my eye. I got up and walked over to it to get a closer look. It was what appeared to be a carving of a femur in the wall of the tunnel. It

was so inlaid that it was unlike anything that any sculpter I've ever known had carved, and it was bedecked in a wide range of red hues, as that of the rest of the tunnel. The thought disturbed me, and in doing so forced me to step backwards carelessly.

I stepped and slipped on something round, falling painfully on the small of my back. Sore and annoyed, I turned my gaze to what had tripped me, then shrieked in horror. Laid into the ground was a human skull, forehead facing upward as if gasping for air

in an attempt to escape its obsidian cage. I suddenly became aware of the remainder of this fetid crimson crypt that I sat in, and in anguish cried out. "§oWhat, by God, is the Black Line made of?!" §rAnd to my horror, through the walls and the floor

boomed a reply: "You!"