The Wrong Person Was Transported to the Horrific Lost Village

"We need experiences, Mykos. We need to write about experiences that one can only hear about in our pages. We need to create those experiences. That's what this is all about."

A scene from a few weeks ago--one from what was practically a different world. One without monsters, but with the trial and tribulations of mundane life.

Mykos, the would-be tour guide, was sitting beneath a bus shelter as the rain came down, his expression as gloomy as the weather. The sad man was twiddling his thumbs, sighing every so often. 

Mykos was part of a certain magazine company, with a particularly depressing performance record. What he covered--the city's ever-evolving music scene--was noticeably one of the weakest performing topics. If there was anyone in need of a break, it was him.

That opportunity was within reach for him, however. A company-wide call had gone out. The woman in charge of it all, a woman affectionately referred to as the "Big Boss" was accepting any ideas to take the publication arm to the "next realm of success."

If there was anyone in need of a break, it was him, and this call was his chance. He just needed the right idea. But alas, he was a "crummy" music writer too fixated on highlighting the sophisticated movements of the trailblazers within the scene that normal readers with minimal musical knowledge could never really appreciate.

He sighed again, his gloomy estimations taking up all the space in his mind.

"Sigh too much, and Cath Corlainn will suck out your soul."

Mykos looked over toward his right at the one who spoke to him. She was standing there, right outside the bus shelter, beneath her umbrella and in a dark purple dress of a rich, velvety fabric that shimmered as if a fine layer of water covered it.

In one hand, she held her umbrella that caught Mykos's attention. It was just that unusual, with intricate designs etched into the handle and a deep, almost ethereal shade of blue adorning the canopy.

In her other hand, she held a book, one so devoid of defect that it must have been new. The title read "101 Ghost Stories of the New Era." To be reading it while waiting for the bus in this weather--she must have loved it. Mykos had that thought and sought confirmation, but he couldn't see her face. The umbrella obscured her too much for him to see her expression.

"Pardon me?" Mykos timidly asked.

"Don't mind me... I was just thinking of something funny."

"Something's going to suck out my soul? That's not funny."

"It's funny because you invited it with all your sighing. Isn't it funny? You would have doomed yourself without realizing it was your own fault."

"That..." Mykos sighed. "That sounds like a tragedy."

The woman giggled. "Well then--good thing Cath Corlainn isn't real. Your soul is safe for now, Mister Gloomy."

"Yeah... I guess so..." Mykos eyed the woman's book again. "Is that a good read?"

"It's marvelous," she replied in a low, smooth voice. "It just came out today. It's full of all kinds of puzzling tales. Some are quite chilling too."

"You believe in ghosts, then?"

"Hmm... Maybe? I don't believe in the ones in this book, though. At least, not any of the ones I've read about thus far."

"You don't believe in the ones in the book?" Mykos asked, puzzled. "Then why are you reading it?"

She chuckled. "You don't enjoy fiction, Mykos? You don't like being whisked away to fantastical worlds?"

"Oh," Mykos said, embarrassed. "Right. Fiction. People like reading fiction. Sorry, I just really enjoy nonfiction."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"What ghosts do you believe in?" Mykos asked, sincerely curious.

"The ones that are incomprehensible," she replied, the swiftness of her answer giving Mykos pause. "The stories in this book--they are too neat and tidy. Humans are much more complex--humans who have passed on should have a similar level of complexity. The ghosts in this book--the majority have very clear, understandable origins and purposes. They are really one-dimensional. Ghosts that give conclusive answers--that just doesn't make sense. It's too neat for the messy reality we live in."

"Ahh..."

"If you want 'non-ficitional' ghosts, you're better off listening to midnight radio shows. The young woman that runs the paranormal hour tells you just how coy and infuriating a real ghost could be."

"But you still take time to read about fake ghosts?"

"Well, as I said, I love the journey... I also like to keep an eye out. There may be 100 fake ghosts here, but maybe, just maybe, there is one that holds a kernel of truth."

"So, you're looking for a 'real' one within those pages? Okay... I guess everyone has hobbies--huh?"

The book was in front of him. Mykos followed the woman's hand and looked toward her face, though she was still obscured by her umbrella.

"Yes?"

"Here, have it. Go on your own journey of spooky thrills," she said, her voice light.

Mykos looked at the book--and her pale hand--again. "But it's yours--"

"I buy two of everything. This is the extra copy. You may have it. I think you could get more out of it than we could."

"Oh..." Mykos stared at the book again as an idea started to take root in his mind. "You know what? Yeah, let's see what these fake ghosts are all about," he said, taking the book.

"I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do... Don't read too late at night though, it might scare you just a little."

Mykos chuckled. "Sure."

The bus finally approached, the sound of the puddles being disturbed signaling its arrival. Mykos tucked the book beneath his coat and got onto the bus. He looked over his shoulder again, hoping to see the woman's face as she put away her umbrella.

Maybe it was the topic of ghosts, but he half expected the woman to vanish, but when he turned around, she was there, still standing next to the bus shelter.

"Are you not getting on?"

She waved at him. "No, I'm waiting for another one."

"Oh... okay... Thank you." Mykos accepting the answer, paid his fare and went to an open seat as the bus started pulling away. "A bus, huh?"

The rest, as they say, was history. Mykos developed a strange idea as he studied the book he was gifted--a tour into the wilderness in pursuit of something spooky. The idea, while not solidified and fleshed out, had gotten Mykos excited. Run a tour into a novel location, study the people who came on the tour, and then write about the activity. He would be able to give the company something novel, while also writing about the 'people' element--maybe readers would be interested about the kinds of people who believed in ghosts enough to go on a tour. If that didn't pull them, maybe just the sheer audacity of crossing the wilderness in pursuit of the paranormal would attract curious eyes.

Eventually, he went to his department's head with the general outline of his proposal, acknowledging that he would need some help. When he showed the idea to that head, however, something happened--something that gave Mykos hope.

"Oh... the Big Boss already gave approval for this type of idea." the department head had said. "I guess she already knew what kind of idea she was looking for. Good for you, Myke! I bet she was testing us! Good job!"

Mykos's expression had brightened. It was the happiest he had been in weeks. "Yeah! Maybe! I'll get started on putting this together right now!"

***

Present time--

Mykos stared at the book at the bottom of his backpack and kissed his teeth. He wanted to burn the book that had put him in this horrible situation, but he just couldn't bring himself to burn a gift from a kind person.

"It's... This is all my fault. Not yours," he mumbled.

Mykos looked around. Everyone else in the field--all his fellow passengers seemed to have adapted to their predicament better than he did. He wanted to cry, and bawl, and pray at all times of the day, but when even children were handling a hellish situation admirably--how could he put on such a display.

Mykos looked back at the belongings he had spread out on the grassy field--his clothing, toiletries, binders, survey papers, and other knick-knacks--and wiped his teary eyes before sniffling.

"I want to go home..."

A hand fell on his shoulder. "It's okay, Mykos. We all do."

He looked behind him and saw Tolk's smiling face.

"Take your time, okay?" Tolk said with a smile, his other hand shaking on his cane. "Don't let the young ones see you falling into despair, okay? The adults have to be the strong ones."

Mykos looked out toward the group of Mei, Kia, and the other young people.

"Really? But it feels like they're plenty strong already."

"No, we're all just putting on brave faces." Tolk looked up and smiled. "Looks like Miss Ryza is back. She doesn't look like she has too much. Maybe she holds the clue."

Mykos, meanwhile, looked out toward Susy, who hadn't moved from her spot.

"There's something I can do... Mister Tolk, can you keep an eye on my things? I'm going to help Susy."

"Ahh, admirable, Mykos. Rest assured, my friend. Your belongings are safe with me."

Mykos, hopeful that he could get Susy more involved with the group.