Mythlands: Mythical Origins

13. A Most Peculiar Gathering

A short story written for the Red Feather Award Summer 2019 Writing Contest

A MYTHLANDS MYSTERY

It is now the third hour since I entered the car. Since then we have been driving continuously, throughout the late afternoon and into the darkening gloom of the countryside ... or at least this is what logic and my senses tell me.

For you see, these last hours of my life have been lived, as the 24 hours before them, shrouded in secrecy, and with little visual clues to work with. And yet I continue to observe, and make of these events, what I can. It is the curse of the writer to notice details that others lack, and to convey these observations in the form of prose. Currently however, I am able only to compose within the confines of my own mind.

There is light within the car ... a most luxurious model, I am given to understand, though in my time such conveyances were still in the realm of the imagination. I sit comfortably upon my padded leather seat - near me, a book to ease the boredom - the same book I have had upon my person since leaving my home at the behest of parties yet unknown. The tome, that I have recently completed is a work by a fellow countryman of mine, my good friend Tolstoy. I wonder if Leo has been invited to this gathering? A supposition given fuel by the brief encounter I had with another writer, aboard the jet that brought us to the airport, from which we disembarked, blindfolded and guided towards the motor vehicle.

Ah, but my fellow traveller, the Englishman - he did not continue his journey in my company, for I am alone, shielded from the outside by the tinted windows. And yet for a few brief seconds my ... facilitators upon this expedition, they made the second of two mistakes. The first - I overheard a furious row between my initial guide, and another - each of the "guests" were meant to travel separately. Someone made an error putting me on the same aerial transport as Dickens. At the very least we were to have been kept in separate quarters while in the air.

They attempted to correct this by loading us, like so many cattle ... ah, but I am ungenerous. The employees of our mysterious host, have been nothing but gracious, and after all we ... I feel there are others and that each accepted the invitation, as I did, with curiousity and willingness. Mr Dickens and I were, shall I say, gently guided down the steps and then separated, each to our own limousine, where once ensconced in the spacious back compartment, blocked off from even seeing the driver, we - I assume the others had similar treatment - found food and drink of the most excellent quality, along with the books we had requested, taken from the plane. But no writing materials ... and so I am forced to construct this narrative within my own head.

I am curious as to how the next chapter will play out. But lest I forget ... the second mistake.

While arguing the first, our guides attention lapsed and the hood upon my head went slack. The light was already fading upon the airport runway ... a private affair obviously, as it would seem strange to the casual observer to see us paraded with our heads covered, and besides, the small jet planes were those employed by persons of extreme wealth. This was no surprise, given the money order for 100,000 that accompanied the exquisite invitation. If more than a few of us were similarly induced, this and other costs would run our host at least a million.

But I digress. In those unguarded moments, I broke the terms of the invitation and used the encroaching dark to lift my hood and satisfy curiousity. Some half a dozen jets and a like number of dark limousines. If Dickens and I had been transported from one place, then others had likewise been conveyed. We would then all journey separately by means of these luxury vehicles until ...

The rain splatters gently upon the windows and finally the vehicle draws up. I am first aware of the slight spitting crunch of gravel upon a driveway and as I breath in the cool misty air upon the opening of the door, I can smell the rain.