The Cryptid Files by Jean Flitcroft Page A

on her tongue. First, she would climb up to some of the higher caves and see if there was a tunnel which would lead up to the top. Lead up to the top? Vanessa was puzzled by the thought. What was at the top?
    She began to climb quickly. Although her feet were bare, she was sure-footed. She loved climbing. She stopped, picturing herself scaling a large tree. Her lime tree. Of course, in her garden. The images stopped as abruptly as they started.
    The teasing memory made her all the more determined, and she climbed up higher past two caves. She didn’t stop at either, as she could see the back of them, and there were no tunnels leading anywhere. She paused and looked over to the left at another opening. For some reason, it looked more interesting, even though it was still above her eye level and she couldn’t see the back of it. Was she right in thinking that it wasn’t as dark up there? Maybe it was the light from an opening. The climb up and across would be more difficult. There were fewer footholds and bigger rocks jutting out and in the way.
    She lost her footing just for a moment, scraping her knee on the rock. It didn’t hurt at all, but she could see the tear in her jeans and the blood oozing. Do you bleed in your dreams? she wondered. Should she look for a way out through the water instead? She longed to throw herself of the ledge into the water below where she knew she would feel secure and comfortable. Why was the water so appealing?
    Water heals .
    Perhaps, she thought as the words reverberated in her head. But heals what?
    She climbed onto the ledge with some difficulty and sat on her knees looking around. How disappointing! There was no way out after all, just another cave. Well, not quite just another cave. This one was different, because the bottoms of the walls were lined with the glowing moss. Nearly all the other moss she’d seen or eaten had been at water level or just below it. None of the neighbouring caves was glowing. Strange, that. What made this one different? There was something more to it than just the moss. She could feel something close to her.
    Vanessa shuffled along the ground towards the back of the cave, and it was at the very back that she saw a pile of rocks in the shape of a pyramid. The roof of the cave was higher there and she could stand up. The construction had been carefully made, each rock balanced one on top of the other. Who could have built it? As she removed a large one for a closer look, she heard a loud, prolonged cry. Startled, she dropped the rock and froze. It was sadness itself. But not a human cry, more like an animal.
    Stop. Leave in peace, please, please …
    Vanessa wrung her hands; she needed to look inside and yet she knew she shouldn’t be doing this. Just like the pictures in the cupboard, she thought, as the image of herself surrounded by paintings of the Loch Ness Monster sprang into her head. Nessie? What had she to do with this? She put her hand on another rock and waited for another warning cry, but nothing came, so she lifted another off the top and tried to peer inside. It was too dark. She would need a torch – but a glowing sock would do. Even dangling her sock over the opening, she could see nothing at first. Then her eye caught a glint of metal. Should she touch it? She waited for an image or a voice to guide her, but nothing came.
    Carefully, so that she didn’t disturb the stone pyramid, she put her hand inside. Her fingers touched something hard and she pulled her hand out again. Feeling less brave, she sat for a little while. She had to see what it was. Again she plunged her hand in and tried to peer in at the same time. Her fingers closed around what felt like a little chain and she lifted her hand out slowly.
    At the end of the chain that dangled between her fingers was a locket. A tiny silver locket, old and badly tarnished. She fingered it gently and then opened it. Inside was a black and white photograph. It was