Not many people know about the creature born in the mine shaft.
It has many names except for its true name. We lost it years ago on account of no one wanting to write down, afraid to know a fraction of its pain. This is not a creature that harms, or threatens us in a physical sense. It’s a gentle beast, said to hold the world’s sadness. Every loss, break up, or regret, it feels them deeply. A useless way to live when you’re a mythical beast. Many good people have attempted to study it. It never goes well of course. The mere presence of it is hard to reason with. It’s said that scientists can lose months just looking at how truly in despair the beast stays. How millions of pained voices come from its mouth when it tries to speak. Its hooved feet always moving, never settled. Strangely it tries not to cry in front of the scientists, yet, it never can. Its weeping is so profound it can be heard throughout the shaft. That is why we don’t know much or how this beast lives, it’s too painful to look at, to even hear to begin any sort of study. They’ve tried camera’s and even those who can’t feel anything but it doesn’t matter. It’s pain isn’t to be studied, mocked.
These days the only way we know it’s alive comes from various new age types who try to show how their new religions can cure the beast. I don’t know why they want to cure it, I find it quite comforting, just the idea that this thing cares about my pain. That no matter how old or how powerful it is, it takes time to feel my pain. In some odd way it cares and I hope we never find the reason.