Thousand: Three Hundred Ninety-Seven

Gratefully, Bernie grasps the tail and the dog moves on, setting a pace that doesn’t deprive his charge of footing or hold. It is not long before sounds from the world above dwindle and all there is to hear is stirred by feet and breath. Though the tunnel is without light, it is not true that Bernie sees nothing, for internal lights swirl before and around him. Nor is the dog’s progress tentative. Footfall after footfall, his hand sweating in the hair of the dog, Bernie walks on in reverie. Once upon a time there was a boy who climbed