Wallace

There are times when I believe that Wallace was no more than a victim of the coincidence between a rare type of hallucination and a careless trap, but that indeed is not my profoundest belief. I am more than half convinced that he had, in truth, an abnormal gift.

My suspicion started a year ago. Summer had arrived, and its lively colours inspired me and my best friend to retire some days to my uncle John’s cottage in the country, where we would rest from the anxieties and hurries of the city.

The little house was extremely comfortable. Two enormous windows in the living room allowed us to see the wonderful landscape that sorrounded us. Miles and miles of fresh green grass, a warm breeze which brought us the scent of the summer flowers, and the sweet singing of the birds and the distant rumour of the sea fulfilled our hearts. I was pleased. For two years I had been trying to write a novel, and now I was certain that my lost inspiration would come back to me. Every afternoon, while I was writing, Wallace would go out for long walks. He used to tell me that this activity calmed his nerves, so stressed during the rest of the year. He was a prestigious lawyer with a heart of gold, and people from all over the country looked for him to assess them in very profound issues. He was a young man, who never got married. He enjoyed his own company. He was a passionate reader and had a strongly inquisitive soul. Since we were kids he was curious about any odd subject he would find in my father’s library, subjects which were not of my particular interest.

Days passed peacefully, and Wallace’s long walks would extend more and more. One day he arrived more excited than the usual. His eyes glittered with a curious light. He smiled at me and said, his voice trembling:

“Oh my friend, I’ve found something in the woods. Oh, if you could only...” He paused and smiled again. I was puzzled.

“My dear Wallace, what do you mean?”

“Oh, oh... I can’t describe it properly... I can only tell you that my walks leaded me to some sort of cave... I was reluctant to enter at first... Who knows the dangers I would encounter? But after some days my curiosity was so strong that I had to enter... Oh, you can’t imagine... But I’ll show you soon...”

He did not say another word. That night I wouldn’t sleep, thinking about my friend’s words. I had never seen that expression in his face, like a child when he sees an exotic butterfly dancing in the air.

The next day when I woke up I found out that Wallace was not at home. I spent the rest of the day waiting for him, anxious and worried. He came back at night. He looked very tired, but his smile was bigger than ever.

“Dear friend, where have you been?” I told him, feeling really upset.

“Oh... I have to show you... Sit down...” I obeyed him, without understanding. He sat down in front of me and opened his right hand. A small purple rock shone enigmatically.

“I found it in the cave. It was in the floor... Waiting for me... You won’t believe... See by yourself...” he pressed the rock hard, his eyes closed in concentration. When he opened his hand again, the rock had dissapeared and my friend Wallace looked at me.

“My friend, I see the world in my eyes... Each treasure hidden, each ancient manuscript locked away from any man’s reach...”

“What!”

“ There are things which have never been discovered... And that are waiting for me... I don’t want the gold my friend, but the secrets, the real origins of our civilisation...”

My heart froze. Was he loosing his mind?

“I can’t explain it... In all my studies... I never thought I would come across something like this, not the sourcere’s stone, but a different one... Can you imagine? Oh my Lord... It would change the human world... I see the exact location of things which I have never conceived in any of my wildest dreams, and I have to look for them... Come with me...”

But I couldn’t. I tried to convince him to think rationally. But he parted. I haven’t seen him since that day.

I have come across curious studies about a very peculiar rock... The searcher’s stone they call it. A rock which, according to ancient philosophers, would lead the human race to amazing discoveries... But I cannot believe it. Six months ago I received a letter from Wallace. He is in the North Pole, searching... He says he is close to something that will illuminate the world... I do not regret my decision, but I hope in my heart to see him again. And although I refuse to believe my friend’s words, a feeling is growing inside me, the certainty that soon me and the world will have news from Wallace, and that these news will change our lives.

coni