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Abyss Worm
墨書 Inktalez
Jonathan Cross's fingers trembled slightly over the letter as he pondered again and again what news the correspondence from Beyond Technology might bring. The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the window, yet his home remained shrouded in an invisible gloom. Jonathan sat at the dining table, his gaze fixed on the envelope, as if the thin paper concealed some unpredictable danger. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, smoke rising slowly and forming faint rings in the air before dissipating into nothingness.
1
Not far away, a dull-coated, aging Mongrel lay on the floor, its belly rising and falling with each heavy breath, seemingly affected by its owner's anxious mood. The room was so quiet it felt suffocating, with only the ticking of the clock reminding him of time passing. Jonathan shifted his gaze from the envelope to look outside, but his mind was already firmly captured by that letter, unable to divert his attention.
He took a deep drag from his cigarette, the bitterness of tobacco spreading in his mouth, unable to mask the inner turmoil and unease. His hands felt stiff from gripping tightly for too long, and the slight tremor in his fingertips betrayed his inner agitation. Finally, he crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray with a sharp hiss, as if trying to crush that repressed emotion along with it.
Jonathan picked up a dinner knife from the table; the cold blade reflected a glint of light, almost like a silent warning. He closed his eyes and took a brief deep breath before forcefully slicing open the envelope. At that moment, the sound of tearing paper echoed sharply in the stillness, each inch of separation feeling like an irreversible fate unfolding. As he opened the envelope, the words hidden inside were about to reveal some truth—a truth he might never be fully prepared for.
The instant the envelope was cut open, Jonathan felt an indescribable weight pressing down on his chest, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand; his breathing became rapid and labored. He lowered his head and squinted as he read the contents of the letter word by word, his expression growing increasingly profound and somber. The letter seemed like a summons from an unknown abyss, compelling him to sense a cold and ruthless fate approaching.
Jonathan stared at the last line of text on the letter, unable to tear his gaze away from those few short words. When he folded the paper shut, cold sweat finally slipped silently from his forehead onto the table, leaving an almost imperceptible small dot. The air in the room seemed to thicken instantly; he was unaware that his body temperature had risen while his heartbeat grew clearer and more frantic.
However, Jonathan's lips twitched slightly, revealing a hint of excitement that was hard to conceal. His deep-set eyes sparkled with an unusual light, as if some long-dormant part of him was awakening. He gently placed the letter back on the table; his fingertips still trembled slightly, but this tremor no longer stemmed from fear—it came from a long-desired thrill.
Jonathan rubbed his rough chin with his fingers, feeling the stubble beneath them. His gaze deepened as if he were contemplating something or had already sorted through all his thoughts. Moments later, a faint smile appeared at the corners of his mouth—a smile that held both coldness and an uncontrollable fervor. It was a genuine reaction from a man facing an unknown challenge.
He chuckled softly; it was a low and restrained sound that seemed like self-talk or perhaps a response to the sender of that letter. Hidden within that laughter was a sense of determination, as if he had made an unshakeable decision. Jonathan stood up, his gaze sharp as a knife, as if he could see through every step of what lay ahead.
As Jonathan rose to his feet, the elderly Mongrel slowly pushed itself up from the floor with its somewhat heavy body. Though its movements were slow and labored, they were filled with a steadfast strength. It wagged its tail vigorously; although age had diminished its vigor, it stirred up a faint breeze in the air as if silently conveying its remaining vitality and loyalty to its master. The dog's eyes remained bright, reflecting a stubborn resilience; despite its stiff limbs, it still tried to maintain its former agility.
Jonathan's gaze lingered on Old Dog for a moment; within those eyes that had witnessed countless storms flickered an indescribable warmth and comfort. He understood well that this dog had accompanied him for many years; no matter how time ravaged its body, its heart still burned with loyalty and care for him. The wagging tail seemed to remind Jonathan that even after years of trials, this Old Dog still retained undiminished strength and was willing to fight fiercely for its master.
Jonathan slowly walked toward Old Dog, each step carrying a weight of solemnity. He knelt before Old Dog and gently lifted it into his arms. Old Dog's body was no longer as light as it once had been; its bones protruded more prominently now, and its fur had grown sparse and coarse. Yet this did not evoke any disdain in Jonathan; rather, he handled it with utmost gentleness as if afraid that any misstep might hurt this loyal companion.
As he held Old Dog in his arms, the familiar weight caused a gentle tremor in a corner of his heart, as if the years they had spent together had returned to him. Jonathan lowered his head and looked into Old Dog's still bright eyes, feeling an inexplicable warmth surge within him. He knew that this Old Dog had accompanied him through countless difficult times, and now it was still willing to walk alongside him, no matter how treacherous the road ahead might be.
"Old Dog can still learn new tricks, right?" Jonathan said softly, a hint of self-deprecating humor in his tone, but more than that was an undeniable sense of determination and anticipation. His voice rang clear in the quiet room, as if it were an unassailable promise. He gently stroked Old Dog's back, feeling the slight quiver of its muscles and bones, and a certain resolve began to take shape within him.
Old Dog let out a low bark, its voice carrying a raspy tenacity, as if responding to its master's words and expressing its understanding and trust. Jonathan felt the subtle vibration travel through his palm; it was a symbol of Old Dog's vitality, a silent vow that it was still willing to accompany its master.
Jonathan slowly straightened up and gently placed Old Dog back on the ground, allowing it to stand once more. He gazed at Old Dog's steadfast posture, his expression deepening with resolve. After a moment, Jonathan's lips curled into a faint smile again, one that carried an unspoken determination and readiness for the future. He turned and walked toward the door, with Old Dog following closely behind, its steps slow yet resolute.
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