Salt Line

There is a morning tide within the Earth
whereupon the land, will rise and fall.
This heave and pull is governed by the Sun,
an orbital cannula prospecting the light without.

“Salt of the Earth” said Goober absentmindedly as he repositioned the salt shaker now bulging in his back pocket (one the two shakers he had sequestered from the diner during lunch). “Quick, empty it here! Make a line, one that no madman can cross, no witch nor warlock, or they who are unruly may pass beyond.”

It was an attempt at humour to break up the mood of trepidation fast setting in.

Now that they they had made their way through the fallen steel doors to the ground floor lobby, they came to a hallway of lifts such as you might see in any contemporary building - except that instead of going up all floors went down.

“Not much good is found under the ground - least not deep down like this” whispered Goober.

Instinctively Needles, who had just joined them, briefly held Goober’s hand as they entered into the first lift that opened. He had far more experience with the forces beneath the ground, being familiar to all things mining as his kind are, and did not much like the surprises often found there.

“Which floor?” asked Goober.

“Let’s start at the bottom and work our way up”, answered Puck, who was already finding the atmosphere inside the lift as constricting. The lift descended and bumped at the bottom. Needles was idling from one foot to the other, and Puck put his hand upon his shoulder, gently motioning to be quiet. Invisibility was a power they all had, but it was only ever short lived within the physical world - they could maintain it for five minutes at a time, but anything more than that was almost impossible.

“Here goes” he said, jumping out ahead of them.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series