(the earlier instalements are attached to the hyper link below, and are also situated below this update)
http://markelliottnovel.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=2
McKenna squealed in horror as standing in front of him was his long dead brother. In a state of severe shock McKenna pushed his old and withered arms down on to the arm rests of his chair so as to lever his body on to his feet. The first attempt failed as his sodden feet and ankles collapsed under his body weight. He again strained against the arm rests and this time successfully levered his aching body to his feet. There in front of him was his deceased brother, no older then the tender age that he had fallen, or been pushed, down the well all those years earlier.
A trickle of urine ran down the old mans leg as he lurched forward in an attempt to embrace his sibling. However, this attempt failed as he grasped at the figure some three feet in front of him. Regaining his composure he took a couple of stumbling steps towards his target and throwing himself forward landed face first on the damp carpet. As he lay in a crumpled mass of urine, sweat and stinking mildew, his ears strained to a faint cry emanating from behind him. Pushing one hand in front of the other, the old man struggled to turn his prostrate head towards the faint speech. His boil covered neck creaked as the thin skin twisted and cracked with the movement of his head.
Once he had managed to turn to his head to face his deceased brother, he recoiled with horror to note that the room was completely empty, and that there no sign of the source of the faint speech. His head ached with pain as he strained his swollen and blood shot eyes around his living room, searching for some movement.
Not a sound and not a movement. He slowly pushed his tired body to a standing position, and slowly trudged towards the locked door. Opening the door he stared up and down the street hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother. Alas, there was no one in sight, and trying to reflect on the recent happenings, turned back in to his premises locking and bolting the door behind him. Feeling sad and bewildered, McKenna went strait to his bed and without undressing threw his body on to the soiled sheets, and within five minutes was again asleep.
***
Unknown to McKenna, located approximately fifty feet below his home was a labyrinth of dark tunnels excavated centuries earlier by Irish monks who had settled in the area after crossing the Atlantic in their hand crafted vessels years before Columbus’s supposed discovery of the new world !.
These tunnels were used by the monks to evade the local native Indians who had objected to there presence, and had set about exterminating them by raiding their settlements and murdering all they could capture with the tomahawk or arrow. The monks who had arrived on the coast of the new world were fleeing from persecution in Ireland and had been joined by fellow Welsh monks who were suffering from the same predicament.
After one particularly fierce attack by the natives, a strong albino monk who was known simply by the Greek letter Theta, had discovered an entrance to a small cave that appeared to lead in to a series of other caverns. Theta quickly advised the other monks of his discovery, and soon they were excavating the lose soil in the cave to try and get to the other caverns. They quickly noticed that the soil was easy to remove, but was still of a solid consistency that would be ideal for tunnelling. Thus, over a number of months an elaborate series of tunnels were begun to be dug by the surviving brethren.
Before long, the network of tunnels was of sufficient scale for the monks to evade their attackers on a regular basis, and prevent their numbers from decreasing. After a period if three years a major chamber had been excavated so that religious festivals and ceremonies could be held underground away from the prying eyes of the savages above.
