For 250 years he dwelt in the caverns of his homeland, now he emerged to seek companionship 20 years after the last of his tribe perished. They thought they might live forever with the fountain of life seemingly dripping on their heads from above, little did they know it was just a super tonic of vitamin enriched water seeping through the jungle floor that prolonged their lives, a chemical concoction of decayed leaves and flowers mixed just right, impurities filtered through the soil making it more potent. He walked out into the stinging sunlight, felt it piercing successive layers of his skin and then it seeped into his marrow where it felt good. In the caverns sunlight was a rare treat when it shone for sparse moments through the openings high above and the tribe would take turns bathing in it, like oasis' of light and they were Bedouin of the darkness. He was surprised that he still knew the forest as he had while only a child before the tribe had decided to retreat to the caverns when the first ghost man arrived to feed on their gold, at least thats what they thought because when he found it he would bite it... they suspected for ripeness. But here he was following overgrown trails by muscle memory, on auto pilot he walked and walked not realizing the jungle was growing less and less dense. It wasn't until he heard the loudest frog croak in his long life that he stopped, raised his head and saw what the ghost man had done to his homeland. "He, he, or they must have eaten down the hills and mountains like termites and carved these tree high dwellings in the process and from the crumbs he has made these stone hard paths...there are so many of them down there I see like the insects of the jungle." It was his only explanation for the sight he saw, the multi-storied buildings could only have been carved out of an existing mountain, no one could build that high and the roads with the embedded rocks had to be some kind of saliva/mountain remnant mixture...His apprehension held him solid for hours as he waited for his comforting darkness within which he would sneak down and take a closer look at this village carved from the mountains, but as the sun grew dimmer the village brightened "They have trapped the sunlight, or did they steal the stars? I can not see all of the stars I remember there was a whole sky full of stars, how can one steal a star, but they have I see them all over along the paths and inside the dwelling and even moving with them ..." He stilled himself and began his trek into the village, he had lived 250 years so he was now ready for whatever these mountain devouring ghost men would do to him. With chest out and head high he forged forth along the path, not flinching as the ghost men flew past in the hollow shelled, tar ringed rolling magic carts, he figured they must have some beasts like pumas hidden underneath running with these on their backs, it impressed him to no end but he remained stoic and pressed on until he came to the first towering dwelling, he looked up in awe and fainted.... In the hospital, Dr. Decosta looked down upon this elderly tribal man and spoke to him in the native tongue, "How are you?"
He was shocked to hear her speak to him in a broken form of his language, he replied "How do you speak to me?"
She explained that her family had been part of a neighboring tribe and she recognized the markings on his walking stick. "What is your name?" she asked.
"I am Vieope, witch doctor of the Cavern Tribe and last survivor," was his response.....
