The Last Seat(pg.13)

     Months have passed, and I was coming home from work, and Nazareth's Please Don't Judas Me was blaring from my car radio, and it sent me aloft with thoughts, and it hit me again, I need to bury this book where Rusty found it, maybe a message from the grave or just my subconscious talking back at me, but I needed to act upon this quickly before other things got way out of hand. My weekend would be devoted to this wholeheartedly.
     The week dragged by slowly when you're caring mortar and brick in the hot sun, but Friday finally came, whereas I'd usually go out and have a few beers, tonight I would rest up, and prepare for this burial of evilness in the morning. 
     The dawn came early for me, I rise at 6:00 A.M.- every morning for me and weekends too; I snuck out the house with the book nestled in an old sheet, and I immediately felt its presence slowly enveloping me like a spell, first I noticed I had a flat tire, I quickly changed it, and headed out to this Hell place, I thought too, of all places Vikings with their runes and spells decided to bury their secrets within a cave in central Kentucky still mystified me. 
     Death always scared me to the point of realizing that humans are just desperate seedlings vying for space to grow and thrive where we all live on a dying planet that each will succumb to disease, famine, or war eventually. I have often placed my polemic sarcasm in defense of my own cowardliness to assuage my guilty conscience, the fulcrum of my idiosyncrasy is to avoid all controversy, to live and let die in peace, and apply naturally the Darwinian theory to thin the weak and obliging herd. My existential separation from religion has always brought me to criticism and shun, for authority will never tolerate any subversive as myself, so I keep my vindictive abandonment in the confines of my self-righteous mind. 
     I came to the narrow road where Rusty parents lived, but I drove past their home down about 2 miles near the river and parked my car off a small shoulder of the road, and I got out with the book in hand; for I had a two-mile stroll up and down rocky terrain but after about two hours I reached this place and thought if I only had a boat I would've been here in minutes, the cave was just yards away from the river. I retrieved a flashlight from my backpack, and I glanced long at the entrance of the cave shaking like an abandoned bird from a nest. But, gathered courage and brawn and mustered on, the cave was quiet even bats were solemnly sleeping, and there it was, the Devil's chair in the center where Rusty sat in and was cursed. I placed the book right behind the chair and looked around and found a stone to place over it, then I ran out of there as fast as I could, and noticed my breathing was heavy, but managed to see the opening and came out exhausted. Then I found twigs, brush, and more stones and covered up this cave entrance, for no one will ever find this evil book again, then as I was headed back to my car, I started to sing out for no certain reason, 'Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee...'

                                                                   The End