The World Of Myth

“I need some goddamn light.” Nick shouted. Unexpectedly, the small flame of the lighter erupted like an ancient volcano, liquid flame spilling onto the floor at his feet. Nick roared in panic, dropping the fireball to the floor. Examining his hand, he could find no burns or damage. The flames on the floor did not extinguish, but continued burning bright. He closed his eyes in disbelief and stepped back from the fiery mystery. He needed a drink to clear his head.

'This is too fucking weird,' Nick thought. Without fear he picked up the blazing lighter, lifted it above his head like a torch and moved forward. The box he had stumbled over was an ordinary square chest, like the footlocker he kept his porn magazines in at home. Except where he had touched it with his hand, the top was covered in years worth of dust. Nick started coughing again. There was no lock on the chest, but the lid was ajar. His heart was beating fast. Tracing a parched tongue across his upper lip, he tasted the familiar bitter salt of nervous sweat. On impulse, he reached out and opened the chest. Inside lay revealed a treasure only a criminal like himself could appreciate. No gold bars neatly arranged side by side like he had hoped for, but something even better; something which could not only make him rich, but would also increase his credibility on the streets. Green bricks of marijuana, stacked one atop the other filled the chest. Nick's blue eyes were like giant sapphires, buldging from his head. Behind this chest were two more just like it. He quickly opend them both, finding each filled with marijuana.

“There’s enough grass here to make me millions,” he whispered. Nick stood and gazed around the room. For the first time since passing into the chamber he could see more than just the hand in front of his face. He could now see that the room seemed to be a large warehouse filled with an assortment of objects. There were more of the trunks than he could count without writing it down. Something across the room had caught his curiosity; a green army tarp was draped over something big and in the middle of the room a dark, square box that could easily be mistaken for a coffin. A morbid curiosity to explore it prodded him in that direction. 'What, or rather who, was inside?' he wondered. Nick’s need to answer that question was not as powerful as his desire to be rich, and in the end both fear and avarice beat out curiosity.

Nick suspected he stood in a mausoleum; one that belonged to a drug dealer. Most of the other trunks contained enough heroin, cocaine and marijuana to supply San Francisco for years with the right know-how. The bigger chests contained stacks of files, and sealed envelopes; nothing that really interested a mover-and-a-shaker like Nick Black. He also found cash--loads of cash--stashed both in ordinary duffle bags and wrapped in stylish clothes in designer suitcases. Two of the suitcases he found in the trunk of a red, 1971, T-top Corvette which rested under the tarp. Nick almost cried from joy when he saw that the keys were in the ignition. Parked behind the Corvette was a 1965 Velocette Thruxton, also with a set of keys in the ignition. There were other, more bizarre objects around the crypt that seemed like props from a horror movie.

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