It's in the Blood - Raelynn Pt. 03

Hmmm. Interesting... I don't remember the song being in Latin in the book, though. My mom is the only one I knew who knew some Latin besides Granny, but I thought she was adding it on the end for flare when she read it to me. I hadn't suspected the original text to be in another language entirely. Plus, Latin is so old that I'm surprised it hasn't died yet. I didn't even need the dumb book. I wanted it to be an authentic experience with the book and everything like you see in those old freaky flicks, though. When I got to that part, I could go from memory--no big deal. I closed the book and sat it on my lap. My fingers began tapping on the cover not long after.

Curiosity began to spread quickly like a disease. I picked it back up and looked over the cover more carefully this time--no harm in looking. Maybe I can see when or where it was translated. It was rather heavy and well-made. Probably hand bound even. Oddly, no author was listed under the title or on the spine. I flip through the first three pages to find the same. No author. No publisher. Not even a letter dedicating the compilation of stories to some loved one as many books do. Back of the book? Same thing. Lark must see now the undoubtedly quizzical look that was on my face. He places a hand on my knee, getting my attention, and asks, "What's up?"

"Where'd you get this book Lark? It's not like the one I have at home, and I don't think I've ever seen this version. And see right here? No author. No publisher." It fell out of my mouth before he could even answer my question. I flip through it quickly and then point as I hold it up for him, "This section at the end with the song isn't like mine. I think it's Latin, but I'm not sure, and it's handwritten with the original text blacked out. Have you always had this one?" He looked back and forth between it and the road. I held it up as my thoughts wandered around. It was just some stupid book. It really shouldn't matter, but it was odd.

It was unlike any other copies I'd seen, even besides the text change. The others out there are rather plain and boring. This one could be considered ornate in comparison. There was an almost unnoticeable groove on the cover for every letter in the title. For all I know, the cover could even be a type of leather. Each letter is painted perfectly in gold. The edges of the paper were gold as well. I noticed, too, that paper was a bit heavier than regular paper and had a different texture. Even the white wasn't strictly white. It was more of an ivory or cream color. You could even see some fibers in it when you looked closely. Extremely rare to see nonsynthetic fibers in anything these days. The outside cover was also thick, and the whole thing had a significant weight for its size.

It was just then, as I was bobbing the book up and down in the air trying to judge its weight, that I realized I was no longer holding it up for Lark, and he had been staring at me as much as someone driving could stare at someone safely for gods only know how long. This broke me from my thoughts as I slowly let the book rest back in my lap. His gaze flipped back and forth from me to the road for another minute before he spoke, "Oh, uh, that one? Hmmm... I remember I lost my first copy. Decided to take it to school in second grade. I think Grandpa Clyde got it for me at some booth that year we went to the harvest festival. You know the one. You won the pumpkin smash that year."

He smiled at me, and at that moment, I noticed his hand still lingering on my knee. Ummm... Weird. I went back to looking over the book and casually crossed my legs away from him, making his hand slide off. He put it back on the steering wheel as if nothing happened. Good. The last thing I want to do is hurt my best friend. That is the only thing that sucks about this situation. The only thing making me truly apprehensive about our plans. He cleared his throat and said, "That does look odd though... That song part, I mean. But that's the same copy I've had since that year."

Interesting. "Did Clyde know Latin?" I knew he didn't. He was an incredibly simple man. Pretty sure he knew some Spanish, though. Then again, he was with Gran, and she was one well-versed and brilliant woman. It could have been a Yin Yang situation there, too. My mind wandered as I thumbed through the book in my lap. Lark had said something, but it didn't register in my mind. I was just so lost in thought. I flipped through the book absentmindedly for a bit. So far, all the stories within seemed to be the same as my copy. It's just this one particular story. My hand lay to rest on the first blank page. Why wouldn't you want to give yourself credit for your own work?

Strange... Oh well! Nothing could be done about it now, anyway. I looked up and noticed that the sun was almost completely faded in the west, and Lark was parking soon thereafter. Butterflies started up in my stomach at the thought that I would not be a virgin anymore. We were here. Now it's time to party!

I practically flew out of the Jeep and jogged to the back to grab my bag. Impatiently, I waited at the back for Lark. He took his sweet time and showed up next to me with that stupid, dorky smile on his face. Luckily for him, and me, he didn't say anything. He reached into the back and grabbed the climbing gear. It was annoying. It's not like we needed the shit. We weren't going beyond the main cavern floor. We never did. He insisted, though. For safety reasons. He made short work of strapping himself together and then began to work on mine. I rolled my eyes. He knew I was completely capable, but he insisted on doing it for me.

While I waited for him to finish, I reached into the back and to his duffle bag, snagging a cooler. Lark made short work of hooking me in but made sure to linger at my crotch. He then grabbed the duffle, and we headed toward the caves. Even though it no longer emanated spooky sounds, it still looked creepy as heck at night. We never went in through the main tourist entrance. Lark preferred the tunnel they shut down. Less traffic back this way, which means less chance of being noticed by the security patrols. I'm not sure why he always worried about getting caught. He knew the security schedules like the back of his hand. No matter how often we've done this, he is still extra careful, as if it's his first time.

We reached the first staircase and worked our way down. Even though it could be incredibly creepy, I always loved coming in here. Caverns are not subjected to the outside elements, so no matter where in the world, unless it's the frozen tundra, I'm sure, they generally remain at a constant temperature throughout the year. Whatever that temperature is, it's usually always cool to me. Maybe fifty to sixty degrees Fahrenheit in here. I liked wearing my hoodie, so it was always perfect.

Looking around at all the different formations never gets old, either. How many thousands of years did water drip down through the limestone to create all of this? Speleothems, I think Lark called them. I know what a stalagmite is, though! Stalactites are the spiky-looking ones hanging down from the ceiling. Remembered what those were called too. There are some formations on the walls that resemble mushrooms you see growing on trees sometimes. All wavy and crap. Some spots even shimmered like crystals. There was a cute little area for the kids out front where they could pan for gemstones as the original miners did way way way back during the Gold Rush. Whether those gemstones came from the cave, I'm not sure, but it's doubtful. I'm honestly not sure if any gold came from this area. Are the "experts" even sure? That was freaking forever ago. Anything for the almighty credits I suppose! If our ancestors hadn't learned to keep such a good track recording things after the 1900s, it would have been lost on us. Reading about it, you'd honestly believe that time was nothing but fiction created from someone's mind. Wild stuff.