GLORY HOLE
As the boat cruised sluggishly past the island, he asked himself the same question that had been plaguing him for weeks. He had invested a small fortune in these sunset cruises, and he still did not have a sufficient answer.
What was down there?
The city was full of local legends, fables about a massive treasure buried by a scurrilous fur trader in the late 1800s after an altercation in a bar turned favor against him. That particular story told of a man who had fled, and secreted his fortune away on an island in the middle of the lake.
Even more popular was the tale of a demented miner who had traveled to the island not to engineer a mine, but a death trap. He had apparently flaunted around golden trinkets as a lure to potential treasure hunters and had lead them to tortured deaths in his trap with a malicious twirl of his moustache.
Of course, most people likened it to nothing more than a local version of Oak Island of the coast of Halifax. Countless adventurers and excavators had explored that site with the promise of untold riches, but the only result was a tangled web of mystery and intrigue, heaped on top of the varied speculated within the old sinkhole.
He wasn’t a bold man, or a reckless one, but he was a bit of a dreamer. The sight of that abandoned mine site was enough to set him dreaming and he longed to discover what might be buried within. At the very least, it would be an adventure.
Unfortunately, this would not be his time to explore. His intent had always been to wait for a fairly unpopulated cruise so that he could hop discreetly over the side of the ship and swim in to shore. He had almost done just that a week ago, but dark clouds roiled ominously on the western horizon and he did not want to spend the night out in a storm.
Today had looked promising as well, but a beautiful east Indian woman had caught his eye, and he realized now, that he had caught her attention as well.
She approached him casually, a pair of drinks in her hand, and offered one to him.
“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, her accent as smooth and spicy as a fine curry.
“Not in the least,” he replied as he accepted the drink. “Thank you, kindly.”
“A pleasure, I am sure.” She glanced out over the water towards the island. “What are you looking for out there?”
“The future,” he replied, unable to tear his eyes from her gleaming, caramel skin. He raised his drink to her. “And whatever it might bring.”
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