Day 131 - Maps Story

Maps Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

“Of course treasure maps were pretty much a literary invention, conceived as plot points for children’s books. Everybody knows that. Of course. But what if they weren’t? That’s the interesting question, right? What if there really was a true treasure map? And just what is the ultimate treasure worth having and hiding?”

In the early days of mapmaking, depictions of monsters and sea creatures were added to the blank spaces on maps. Some of this was purely for decorative purposes. It only makes sense that a cartographer would be an artistic sort. Of course it helps pay the bills if you’re drawing something useful. And it certainly makes sense that the repeated renditions of the same coasts and land masses over and over would grow quite dull. So why not find a way also to fulfill that creative itch by adding a little flair?

There are of course many alternative reasons as to why a cartographer would add to the product, other than them being a failed artist. Perhaps they were unwilling to admit their own ignorance so they filled in a few blanks with uncorroborated data. Occasionally it was because someone wanted to keep something a secret – a discovered trade route or something profitable of that nature. What better way to keep an industry secret than by scaring off the competition. It didn’t happen often, but then again, once at the right time was all it took to be effective. And in the rarest of rare situations it was because something had actually been there. Someone had seen something and it was worthy of note. Maybe not the great Leviathan or seductive sirens or fantastical mermaids, but something. And something like that needed to be recorded and remembered. Exploration of the unknown has always had its dangers. Sometimes people needed a good warning about that. Sometimes they needed a reminder.

“Wait, treasure maps aren’t real?”

“Not like in pirate movies. Nobody buried treasure on islands or marked them with ‘X’s’ on maps. You think there were because “Treasure Island” needed a good plot point and because Captain Kidd was trying to save himself from being executed. But those are just stories. What if I told you there was something better than pirate gold? Something more. Something special. Some call it a map of life. A map to the very soul.”

“Are you asking if I pray?”

Nicolas Ernest thought of himself as a spiritualist. He had spent his life trying to connect himself with the universe and the beyond. Through no effort of his own he had been born into a family that could provide him with means. Through no permission from his patriarch, Nicolas decided to spend a fair amount of that means as a method of achieving his ethereal goals. Nicolas bought himself a compound, and then he bought himself spiritual guides and advisers, and eventually bought himself followers and fans. Some would later say he created a cult, but that wasn’t really fair or accurate. Nicolas found like-minded people and gave them a place to prosper. There was no money involved. There were no missions or goals or sacrifices to be had. Everyone was free to come and go whenever they chose. It was just a lifestyle for those seeking.

“I’m talking about finding your spirit. Finding Heaven and Hell. Some call it a map. Some call it a road or a path that we all must walk. Some call it life. I call it a goal. Something to be had. It is a goal to be found and to be had and used.”

Nicolas and his followers went looking. They thought they had guides. They thought there was a path. They thought they had a map, and it was understood that a map was supposed to indicate a clear and direct route. And indicate safety. It was supposed to be safe. Maps showed safe passage. There was a tacit understanding that someone had come before, a trailblazer who could be trusted to have done it, who secured secret knowledge, so that it could then be shared and the route could be retread.

This of course was utter foolishness. None of them knew what they were looking into. None of them were prepared for the journey and none of them were able to handle what they found.

Some maps weren’t made to show where to go, but what to avoid. But a person needed to know how to look at it to understand its intent.

When the bodies were discovered, they had no eyes, the sockets scarred and burnt. Some bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. Some had clearly attacked themselves or been attacked by others, perhaps in an attempt to bring about the end as quickly as possible.

Everyone assumed it was some sort of ritualistic suicide. Nicolas Ernest was infamously remembered. No one questioned it. Why should they have? But perhaps Ernest and company had gone looking where they shouldn’t and perhaps this was a warning, left by some sort of otherworldly cartographer, and the point was to tread carefully.