Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Pit

I estimate the pit to run about 40 feet in length and roughly 25 or 30 feet in width.  It isn’t quite a rectangular shape, more a parallelogram.  Though I’m standing right in the middle of it, the darkness hinders visibility.  I can’t know for sure what I’m looking at.  I’d put the height at about nine feet all around, clearly higher than I can reach.  I can already tell that one side is at about a 70% gradient, so you’d think I could climb right out, no?  No.  The walls of this pit are so muddy and slimy, as if someone, or something, is playing a cruel joke.  How do I know this?  I’ve been here before.  I wish this were a dream, but I know it is not.  I don’t remember the pit being quite this inescapable before, but then again I don’t recall ever getting out of it.  It’s so cold and dark, as usual.  I see things here.  Ghastly things.  I pretend not to see them.  I try to ignore them.  Trust me, I’ve tried everything. I’ve screamed and yelled, hoping to get someone’s attention.  I’ve made a running start to try and leap the wall.  No chance.  I’ve even spent hours upon hours of hard labor making an earthen rampart up one of the sides, but the ground proved either too hard or too slippery.

I’m about to try some of those tactics again.  You never know.  Maybe I’ll get out this time.  For now, I’m just standing here in the middle of the pit.  Truth is, I’ve never left.  I’ve never escaped.  I haven’t seen what’s up there, so I really don’t know if I’m in the middle of a bleak, lifeless landscape or if I’m within ear shy of civilization.  The eerie quietude here inclines me to the former speculation.  No, I’ve been here all along.  The pit, it seems, is just getting bigger and deeper.