Spooky

Iaman reports:

Reading a book Killing Commendatore which is an allusion to an operatic scene in Don Giovanni. The story thus far has been a straight-up tale of a divorced, capable, but uninspired, not-working portrait artist, aimless, renting rooms, driving around, then house-sitting in a bucolic cottage in the country. [most of these attributes can be applied to Iaman] One evening he is awakened by silence, the bugs have stopped buzzing. he hears tinkling bells, investigates finding the sound coming from under small boulders behind a garden shrine in back of the house, its 2:30 AM. I put the book down, it is quiet here too, too cool for bugs, then a sound, an screech owl? Then silence again envelopes the house. I look at the clock its 2:30AM. I shiver from a sudden chill.

[T]he center of my bedroom is developing a sinkhole, is it to the underworld? It started as a wobbly tile when I moved in. Now the center of the room depresses a inch or two when walked on. I assumed the underfloor to be concrete slab. The wobbly area has increased to 6 foot diameter. I maneuver around it by walking the perimeter. Visions of snake filled limestone caverns beneath trouble me. I move to a neighboring building at the end of the month.