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The man slowly climbed to his feet, looking around at his surroundings. Jagged stone reached up into the fog, and lights shone and flashed overhead as shapes flickered through the mist. A fox, chasing a hare. A fish, darting through invisible waves. A man, playing the guitar. Glimpses of something else, something beyond the cavern. No end was visible to the rocks, though a dusty path seemed to stretch far into the distance. He pulled his coat tighter on his shoulders, and began trudging forward.
He continued on that way for several hours, feeling no hunger, nor thirst, but a deep sense of loss. A feeling that something was wrong, had been wrong for a long time. Some long-forgotten instinct made him pat his pockets, finding a pack of cigarettes, and a gold-plated lighter. He lit one, and continued walking.
Time passed without day or night in the cave. The trail wound its way around the stalagmites and boulders. Sometimes, out of the corner of his vision, he could swear he saw a flash of red. A thread being pulled ever further from his grasp. He became aware that he was gaining elevation, and made to turn back, to see how far he had come, but in that moment a deep and ancient fear gripped him, and he froze in place.
He must not turn back.
He must not.
His head swam as the fear ebbed away - pictures, pieces of something forgotten. The sun. A dress. A beautiful woman, more perfect than anything he had ever seen before. He blinked, shook his head, and continued his ascent as the incline grew steeper.
After several hours, he became aware of a sound behind him. Someone was tracing his path, following in his footsteps. But he must not look back.
A figure stepped out from behind an overhang of limestone in front of him. "Signore, have you seen my coin? My family placed it on my mouth per the custom, but I awoke without it. I was wondering if you perhaps had come across something like that?" The man was taken aback, and stumbled, falling to the ground. When he looked up, the figure had disappeared, but several others had taken its place, asking, pleading with the man to tell them if he had seen their lost items. He shivered, and began to run, climbing higher and higher with long strides.
The fog grew colder, but he paid it no mind. He was close to something now, he could feel it in his bones. The red thread lay on the ground in front of him. He held it tightly, following it as close as he could. The sound behind him grew louder. Where it once resembled footsteps, it now was a grinding sound, as though two mountains were crashing against one another. Yet still he climbed.
His lungs began to heave, his legs began to burn, but still he chased the thread desperately. At its end, he knew, he would find his salvation. He rushed forward - not far now. But the thread had run its course, and he was left grasping at nothing but stone. The thread emerged from a sheer wall of smooth, alabaster marble, and the noise behind the man had reached its peak.
He turned, just for a second, but it was too late.
Behind him he saw a statue of a woman, immaculately carved from that same white stone. Her hand laid gently atop the head of a lioness, cradling a fish in her other arm, she gazed upon him with a blank expression, frozen in time, her face wreathed in fiery red hair.
He reached for her, and in that instant, a deafening crack resounded through the cavern as the statue's head fell from its body. Tears poured from the man's eyes, though he struggled to recognize the woman even now.
The head rolled down the path, lost to him forever, and the red thread wrapped tightly around the man's hand. It bit into his skin as more and more thread caught onto his arms, his legs, his neck, pulling him into and through the marble, tossing and turning him around until he no longer knew which way was up before unceremoniously dropping him in a heap onto dark, cool stone.
The man slowly climbed to his feet, looking around at his surroundings....