It occurred to me, standing at the gates of my father’s work, now closed and seemingly abandoned, that I wasn’t sure what I wanted to find.
I’d been avoiding this moment for the last few months. I’d even cancelled the weekly game, as I was half afraid that we’d somehow trigger more weirdness in the dungeon, or worse, the dungeon would trigger weirdness in real life (whatever that is).
My father’s book has stayed stubbornly closed.
***
I knew, even before I set foot in the dungeon, that something had changed. The air felt alive: the dusty staleness that had nearly choked me when I first entered a few months ago was replaced with a damp warmth, like the breath of something patiently waiting for food to get close.
As I rounded the first corner and walked into room 1B, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned to see a rust monster, the one whose skeleton I’d found when I was last in this place, looking at me. Very alive. And though of course I’d seen rust monsters before (we employ a handful of them in the janitorial department) I’d never seen a wild one before.
Specifically, I’d never seen a wild one that looked like it was gearing up to charge me.
