It can be so easy to slip back into our own caves. The warmth and gentle humid breeze welcomes one back with dark open arms. The world, so confusing and different and startlingly sharp prod the weak back home to the well worn lonely stone prison.
And many are happy to go.
With others, apathy and weakness alters the escape velocity ever so subtly. Over time many find their trajectories aimed back to where they started with such force it may seem impossible to halt the slide. And they impact, and feel the warm safety of their old cave, and stay.
The boulder at its mouth placed there for the previous resident's protection. This infinite grotto sobs and cries out for the person's return. In the heavy air an unearthly scream peels out to the universe, vibrating in resonance.
Standing there unwavering, armor stained and dented from battles won and lost. Brown, tarnished shield held firm in a black leather gauntlet clad scarred hand. Spear, mirror polished, razor sharp with the marks of many battles, ready as its master, without a moment's pause.
This cave shall never be inhabited again.
Minuteman Historic Site, more Badlands and a Sunset
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