towards the voices, crashing through several yards of thick vegetation.
They are on the other side of this clearing , thought Monson, just on the other side of this….
He broke through into the clearing but the only thing he saw was trees and moonlight.
Chapter 16- Atlantis
After the season openers for football, volleyball and variety of other sports, life settled down again and students fell into a routine. By the time they noticed, a whole month had passed.
“ Please study these pictures for a moment,” said Mr. Gatt on a cold Friday afternoon in mid-October. “What do you see?”
The class looked at the blackboard in concentration. A picture, similar to the one Mr. Gatt displayed the first day of class, sat in the center. A gorgeous painting depicting a male and female in the act of a romantic embrace became the focus of the class' attention. The setting was a ripe yet foreboding forest with the duo in the exact middle of the frame.
The man wore a torn, bloody shirt and although thin, an ample amount of muscle with rippling biceps and defined shoulders was visible through the shirt. His skin was a sickly looking dark grey and his eyes were a deep blood red. These eyes were finely detailed, and while the color threw the viewer off just a bit, you could see that they were soft and compassionate, maybe even humble. His disposition seemed passive, almost apprehensive, like he was unsure of the righteousness of the current embrace. Nevertheless, he held the woman close, cradling her like she was the one thing he held most dear. He loved her, of that Monson was certain. This man, or whatever he might be, loved this woman with all his heart.
Even with the detail of the grey-skinned man, the woman could not be forgotten. She was amazingly beautiful with long, silver-black hair and icy blue, proud eyes. The expression she wore seemed to reflect an emotional conflict, though the reason for this was a mystery. Why was she looking at him like that? What was she feeling?
The woman’s hand was touching his chest, skirting edges of deep lacerations on his upper torso. Their clothing was tattered, as if this meeting was accidental in the midst of a battle. Specks of fiery red, Monson thought it was blood, trickled down massive white wings that flared from the woman’s back like billowing clouds. Who were these people? Or better yet, what were they?
A girl two rows down from Monson raised her hand to answer. Mr. Gatt pointed at her and she gestured toward the left side of the painting.
“ I don’t know about anyone else, but he looks like a goblin or something.”
Snickering rippled through the class as people pondered the statement. Mr. Gatt smiled.
“ You are not completely off, Mindy. However, not exactly what I am looking for. Yes, Simon? ”
It was one of the twins that hung around with Mauller.
“ Well, I don’t know about the goblin -looking thing, but the woman looks like an angel.”
“ Well done Simon,” Mr. Gatt nodded in approval, “but why do you say that? Why do you think this woman looks like an angel?”
Confused, Simon answered, “The wings, of course; the woman has angel wings.”
“ No, you misunderstand. How did you know that the woman with the angel wings is in fact an angel?”
Simon shook his head. “I don’t really know.”
“ Exactly.”
If there was a punch line, Monson definitely missed it, as did most of the class. Mr. Gatt did not explain his statement but turned towards the rolling board and pushed it out of the way. Bending down, he reached for what looked a digital projector. He hooked it up to his MacBook as he started to speak again.
“ This painting was discovered in an underground tunnel system on the outer reaches of Carthage in Northern Africa. The entrance remained hidden for almost two thousand years due to the shifting sands and winds of that region. The tunnel system, covering many miles, contains hundreds of Punic documents. Can
They are on the other side of this clearing , thought Monson, just on the other side of this….
He broke through into the clearing but the only thing he saw was trees and moonlight.
Chapter 16- Atlantis
After the season openers for football, volleyball and variety of other sports, life settled down again and students fell into a routine. By the time they noticed, a whole month had passed.
“ Please study these pictures for a moment,” said Mr. Gatt on a cold Friday afternoon in mid-October. “What do you see?”
The class looked at the blackboard in concentration. A picture, similar to the one Mr. Gatt displayed the first day of class, sat in the center. A gorgeous painting depicting a male and female in the act of a romantic embrace became the focus of the class' attention. The setting was a ripe yet foreboding forest with the duo in the exact middle of the frame.
The man wore a torn, bloody shirt and although thin, an ample amount of muscle with rippling biceps and defined shoulders was visible through the shirt. His skin was a sickly looking dark grey and his eyes were a deep blood red. These eyes were finely detailed, and while the color threw the viewer off just a bit, you could see that they were soft and compassionate, maybe even humble. His disposition seemed passive, almost apprehensive, like he was unsure of the righteousness of the current embrace. Nevertheless, he held the woman close, cradling her like she was the one thing he held most dear. He loved her, of that Monson was certain. This man, or whatever he might be, loved this woman with all his heart.
Even with the detail of the grey-skinned man, the woman could not be forgotten. She was amazingly beautiful with long, silver-black hair and icy blue, proud eyes. The expression she wore seemed to reflect an emotional conflict, though the reason for this was a mystery. Why was she looking at him like that? What was she feeling?
The woman’s hand was touching his chest, skirting edges of deep lacerations on his upper torso. Their clothing was tattered, as if this meeting was accidental in the midst of a battle. Specks of fiery red, Monson thought it was blood, trickled down massive white wings that flared from the woman’s back like billowing clouds. Who were these people? Or better yet, what were they?
A girl two rows down from Monson raised her hand to answer. Mr. Gatt pointed at her and she gestured toward the left side of the painting.
“ I don’t know about anyone else, but he looks like a goblin or something.”
Snickering rippled through the class as people pondered the statement. Mr. Gatt smiled.
“ You are not completely off, Mindy. However, not exactly what I am looking for. Yes, Simon? ”
It was one of the twins that hung around with Mauller.
“ Well, I don’t know about the goblin -looking thing, but the woman looks like an angel.”
“ Well done Simon,” Mr. Gatt nodded in approval, “but why do you say that? Why do you think this woman looks like an angel?”
Confused, Simon answered, “The wings, of course; the woman has angel wings.”
“ No, you misunderstand. How did you know that the woman with the angel wings is in fact an angel?”
Simon shook his head. “I don’t really know.”
“ Exactly.”
If there was a punch line, Monson definitely missed it, as did most of the class. Mr. Gatt did not explain his statement but turned towards the rolling board and pushed it out of the way. Bending down, he reached for what looked a digital projector. He hooked it up to his MacBook as he started to speak again.
“ This painting was discovered in an underground tunnel system on the outer reaches of Carthage in Northern Africa. The entrance remained hidden for almost two thousand years due to the shifting sands and winds of that region. The tunnel system, covering many miles, contains hundreds of Punic documents. Can
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