I Remember, Once...

I.

The events that follow, are not of my own personal experience. Rather, they are the experiences of Professor Marcus Andromedy. Former lecturer of the physical sciences at the… I suppose it doesn’t matter where he taught. To mention such an established place of learning, would serve no purpose other than to cause a scandal. Which, I am certain, this establishment has had plenty of. Needless to say, Prof. Andromedy was a learned man, and not one prone to flights of fancy. To begin, from his journals…

“Once upon a time”, was always problematic for me. The very idea of it struck me as an offense to my intelligence. The suggestion that these events could only occur once, in the entirety of existence, seemed, to myself and others, more of a flight of fancy than the stories that the phrase preceded. My university (name omitted) permitted my expedition to the highly forested regions of ______ (I am not prepared to perpetuate any myths or promote their tourism), sweeping up the central European mountains. A previous expedition, led by my esteemed colleague, Professor A. Schermer, had alluded to some unusual electromagnetic activity in this area. The only other information that I can share, is that, on his expedition, people went missing. The details of these disappearances were kept hidden and discussion of them was not permitted outside that department. Suffice to say, given the terrain in the area, I was not surprised that people go missing from time to time. Yet, given that his expedition was in the Spring, I set the expedition to be carried out in the more temperate Summer months.

Upon arrival, we set up our camp, just a mile or two, from where Schermer’s expedition had begun. His camp had been further up the side of the valley, but, in the interest of safety, I had wanted ours to be situated somewhere wholly easier to egress from. Even here, despite the Summer clime, the icy air flowed down the surrounding mountains, making it necessary to wear thick garments. When the locals found out where we were going, we got the usual tales, that the woods were cursed, or, there were “creatures” dwelling there, who would do us harm. Witches, kobolds and wolpertinger, whatever that was. At the time, we laughed among ourselves, thinking them to be farfetched tales of yokels. Given the amount of time it took to gather supplies, get to our camp and get the campsite set up, there was not much time to do anything, other than prepare an evening meal, and prepare to bed down.

The night was terribly chilly. It almost seemed to be colder than it should be. I can only suppose that to the locals, this must be normal for the area. The wind had picked up and was blowing through the trees, quite vigorously. Every so often, you would hear a branch fall, or an owl hooting in the darkness. With the addition of the sound of the trees creaking, I am certain that those of a more “creative” nature, could easily come up with tales of sprites and ghouls, and other fanciful creations of the imagination. It was all just nature, to me, and nothing of a supernatural origin. My eyes grew heavy and the last thing I remembered, was an owl hooting, somewhere in the darkness.

Upon awakening, I was fully roused from my slumber by the sounds of panic. I hurriedly pulled on my boots and coat, and pulled my tent open. At first glance, I couldn’t see what all the commotion was about. One of the supply tents had collapsed, some time in the early hours of the morning. As I made my way towards the group, I noticed that some of my colleagues looked decidedly pale. More than even this mountainous climate should cause. Once some of the group had stood aside, I could see the damage to the tent. The pole, forming the entrance to the tent, had been snapped in two. One side of the tent had been almost rendered in two. What had been one of the entrance flaps, now lay on the ground, with multiple tears, across and down, the material. Some of the equipment, once stacked neatly within, looked almost as though it had been poured out of the side. With the remains of the tent, partially covering the contents. The group was already whispering among themselves, about demons and witches and ghouls that had come in the middle of the night, to drive this group of outsiders away. Poppycock! That’s what I say. This was, obviously, the work of some wild animal that had strayed into our camp. Probably kept at bay, by our activities whilst setting up camp, but, by evening, attracted by the scent of our food, and the cooking of our evening meal. In among the detritus and ruination, of the tent and supplies, I did spot what was left of some tracks. With my associates, stomping around and panic, they had all but been erased among the disturbed earth, in which they were cast. I expected more, from my colleagues, on this little expedition. This is a scientific study, after all. Level heads are expected, in such an endeavor. Not flights of fancy!