Deep Story #101 | arrival | Foreign Guest

The longing draws our protagonist back to the place that changed
his life. But they longing for what? Does he really miss the
island or the fragile beings that have approached him only
veiled. What awaits the lost souls in this seemingly enchanted
place? Mysterious and promising, like the strange guests of the
island, the music of Foreign Guest, created for the story, also
makes its way into your world of thoughts. It captivates,
fascinates, drives forward and develops undreamt-of energy!
Have fun with the next part of "the warning" by Simon Rucker with
musical background by Foreign Guest!


Up there it says. My memorial stares at me in silent greeting.
Pale it stands out against the jungle. Pale and cold. While I
keep my pistol pointed at my two prisoners, I wave my other hand
in their direction. I feel a little silly, but so be it. At a
distance befitting my safety, I follow the two wretches. I feel
splendid, I know what to do. We'll set up camp up in the clearing
by the graves. That seems like a sensible place to me. I don't
want to go back into the cave, it's too risky with those two. It
won't work, don't think how they might take me by surprise if I
shimmy up the rocks. Besides, I have an audacious suspicion at
which point the little bodies enter our world. I didn't even
notice the narrow gap in the rock much at first. I had passed it
between the mountains just before I found the place with the
graves. A peculiar feeling had set in while looking at the dark
hole between my temples. Soon I will know more. But for now it's
up through the jungle.  The two stumble in front of me.
There I hear the singing all at once again, shouting, I'm ready.
Linea and Anthony look around frantically in all directions,
huddle together. I am calm, no longer have to follow the sounds.
Soon I will meet them. We have only the bare necessities with us.
It shouldn't take long. And once I have met them, it will become
clear what to do.  While the tropical sun disappears behind
the horizon in its usual glorious play of colors, I throw dry
palm fronds into the rapidly growing fire. It feels as if I have
arrived home. The return journey appears veiled in my thoughts,
it is difficult for me to get a feeling for the time that has
passed.