This story was posted a few years ago on another site under my pen name of mandil.
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Money had always been the main preoccupation in Vincent Manning's life. How to earn money, how to make more money and of course how to keep it, which is sometime more difficult than making it.
Ever since he was young, everything he did or thought about had to do with his goal of becoming a millionaire before he was forty. When he decided to attend university and get a degree in administration, it had been in his mind that such a degree would greatly increase his chances of earning that first million.
He had started his own business in the import-export sector soon after he graduated and women had no place in his life since he was much too busy taking care of his growing business.
It was therefore a tremendous shock to him when he found himself completely ruined one day. Before that fatal day things were going very well. He had twelve employees working for his company and he was almost half way to his first million dollars. Besides the fact that he owned a big mansion in a well-to-do district of Montcalm, he had a country cottage in the Adirondack Mountains. Of course, he didn't go there very often since being in his cottage took too much of his time away from his business, but when he did, it was mostly for hunting and fishing. Since his summerhouse was over 150 miles from Montcalm, he usually went there to hunt and rest for a few days at a time. Vincent enjoyed living in close contact with nature. He especially loved the tall trees of all kind on his land and the abundance of wild life all around his place. Had it been at all possible for him to live in his cottage while at the same time being able to take care of his business, he would have gladly done so. But his export-import business had to be situated in the city since his clients and their money was there. He therefore had no choice on the matter of where he had to live.
Before the incident that took away his business, he had a very high profile in Montcalm. He was a member of the local Chamber of Commerce and he also sat on the board of directors of the Montcalm General Hospital.
Yes, life had been sweet for Vincent until that day when they found over two pounds of cocaine well hidden in his imported furniture. From that day on, his luck changed for the worse. In less than six months he lost everything he owned except for his cottage and a few thousand dollars that remained in his bank account when everything was over. Even then, he had barely managed to escape from serving time in prison. It was only the fact that he had hired the best lawyer and that he also paid the stiff fine that kept him from spending a few years in jail.
Of course, he knew nothing about the drugs. But still, someone or a group of people had been using his business to get the stuff into the country without any risk to themselves. Being the sole owner of the company, he had been held responsible for the trafficking and therefore he was suspect number one.
When everything was finally settled, and after paying the hefty fine plus the court and lawyers fees, he was left with five thousand dollars and his country cottage. Everything else he had owned was now gone. On the verge of depression and broken in spirit, he packed his used car with foodstuff and the few possessions he still owned and he drove north to his cottage in the Adirondack Mountains.
The stone house was situated three-quarters up the crest of a tall peak and the view of the valley below was fantastic, to get there he had to drive on an old gravel road for five miles after getting off the paved road. The closest neighbors was five miles away and he had refused to pay for the installation of the phone poles since it would have cost over ten thousand dollars and of course his cell phone didn't work in such a wilderness. Even so he loved to be there since he could forget all about his problems and truly relax.
As for electricity, well the hydro line did not go that far into the wilderness so he had installed a generator and he was happy with that arrangement. Once a year he would have the fuel truck drive there and fill his five hundred-gallon tank with fuel for his generator as well as heating oil for his furnace. Whenever he was there he felt like a different man. In other words, he was in his 'milieu', and he often wished that he could remain there forever.
He had been living as a hermit in his cottage now for over a week and he was still very depressed. Whereas before the unfortunate incident that had ruined him, his only goal in life was to get rich very fast, he no longer had such aim. The events of the last six months had taught him the futility and fragility of his old ambition.
It was while he was in his usual depressed state of mind that one day he went for his daily walk on his three hundred-acre property. Upon returning to the cottage that day, he observed a fox running into a bush at the foot of a vertical rock formation not far from his house. The rock wall was part of an extremely large bolder. Such a rock wall was very common in that part of the mountain.
He was an expert hunter and even though he was not in a frame of mind to engage in such a sport at that moment, curiosity got the better of him. Therefore, he went to investigate the bushes where he had last seen the fox only a moment before.
As he approached the spot where it had last been seen, he saw the beige animal dive away on its right and run away into the edge of the wood a few hundred feet away. At the same time he noticed a small opening or crack-like fissure in the rock wall. After stepping on the lower growth and bending a few saplings, which were growing everywhere and were still hiding much of the hole, he was soon standing next to an almost circular opening through the rock.
He bent over and touched the edge with his hand. It was a hole indeed but judging by the discoloration of its sides and also by the moss growing over the rock all around it, he could tell that it had been there undisturbed for a very long time. No animals were living in there since the constant rubbing against the side would have scraped away the moss and there also would be a visible trail leading to it.
He got on his knees and he looked inside. He couldn't see much except that it went into a sort of cave-like opening and he threw a small rock inside. Judging by the sounds it made, and also from its echo, he was able to tell that there was a large cavity inside the rock wall.
Having nothing better to do, he went into the house and got a flashlight. When he sent the beam of light into the hole, he was able to see the interior of a large cave and where the light fell on the opposite wall; the beam was reflected on something very shiny. He could tell that it was something either metallic or even made of glass.
Judging from the reflection of his light beam, it was a half-circular band of polished material embedded into the rock wall. It was about seven feet in diameter and didn't seem to have been affected by the humidity inside the cave since he couldn't detect any sign of rust on it.
There was no way for him to enter through the hole since it was much too small for his body to squeeze through. The following day, he returned with a metal bar and he began to chip at the rock to enlarge the hole. He was able to break away a few small rocks at the base but still the entrance was not wide enough to let his body through. With another hour of hard work, he managed to dislodge and roll away a large stone that had been part of the circular hole. Once it was well off to the side of the opening, he was finally able to squeeze himself inside.
The interior of the cave was cool and very damp. He immediately went to investigate the cause of the circular reflection that fascinated him so much. It was some kind of archway that had been smoothly cut from the stone. Deep into the rock and going all around it, was imbedded the circular band about three inches wide and made of a silver-like metal. The metal band went from the rock floor on one side in an almost circular pattern back to the floor again with a height of at least seven feet in the middle.
Someone and taken great care to carve the rock wall for a depth of about two feet past the silver band of the portal. From all evidences it was a portal indeed.
Where could it lead? Nowhere it seemed, since after a depth of a couple of feet there was the rock wall. The same rock that made up the rest of the cave.
"Who would go into that much trouble to built an archway leading to a flat wall?" thought Vincent.