Last week's VisDare prompt triggered a little something. This flash continues from here.
In Alaska, you will find a monk who will bequeath to you the map of 'Moskha'.
The print on the old papyrus was seared into Ryan's brain. He had found the withered piece of parchment in the dead man's pocket as he had tried in vain to revive his passive heart. The letter was addressed to the man's son; to Ryan...
He climbed the last few steps to the monks haven. The stone steps gave way to a polished wooden floor, the natural cave morphed into a tastefully furnished apartment. Whoever lived here was most definitely not a monk.
And then he saw him, a crippled figure bleeding on the floor, with one hand on his bullet wound and the other beckoning Ryan to come forward.
Even as Ryan tried to staunch the bleeding he knew that the monk stood no chance of survival. As if reading his mind, the monk grabbed Ryan's jacket and pulled him closer.
"You're Samuel's son." it was a statement, not a question.
"Y...yes." Ryan hesitated.
"My desk...first drawer on your left...a picture...there...is..."
"I need to get you to a doctor." Ryan said getting up to look for a phone. The monk tightened his grip.
"No. You need...to stop...them."
"Who? What are you talking about?" Ryan asked, the terror in the monk's eyes infecting him.
"The picture...Find the girl. Find your destiny." the words came out in haggard breaths. Soon the death grip the monk had on his collar slackened as he ascended to the final abode.
Ryan rummaged around the monks desk until he found what he was looking for. A photograph of an Asian girl. He checked the back for a date, a place...any clue.
India. He saw written in fine print.
The land of the Gods. Here I come.