sobs became whimpers. “Ow.” The pain in my ankle came in throbs now. I sat on the cold, damp ground with my arms wrapped around myself, rocking back and forth, staring into the blackness, terrified and alone. “Help,” I whimpered one last desperate time, but not loud enough to do any good.
As I sat there, the darkness seemed to come alive. My eyes grew wider and wider. Blinking became an effort. The new silence became so deafening; I was scared to yell out again.
A low throaty rattle broke the silence. In the middle of the circle, against the midnight blue of the evening sky, the shape of a large bird sat amidst a tangle of tree branches. Its sharp caw echoed in the tunnel-like space that surrounded me. A familiar sound I remembered from Aunt Rachel’s front yard the day I’d moved to Deadwich. I snapped my head down and stared straight ahead again.
Unpleasant warmth seeped under my skin. I blinked away the trickle of perspiration that ran down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging them, but I didn’t move. My body was on lock-down now, as it always was in the face of my worst fear—the dark. I felt it close in around me, become thick and heavy. Breathing became an effort. I was too terrified to move a muscle for fear the darkness would see me. Like holding your breath, waiting for a cold wave to crash over you, I held mine waiting for the darkness to claim me.
Just when I thought I would go insane and be swallowed whole, a distant sound brought me hope. With my ear tipped upward, I held my breath and listened keenly.
“Brooooooke … .”
I sucked in a sharp breath and yelled back. “Here. I’m down here. Help!” I didn’t know or care who it was, they were calling my name, and it filled me with hope.
“Brooke, I hear you. Where are you?”
“I’m in a hole. Down here.” A rush of adrenaline pumped through me. With my good leg, I pushed myself into a standing position.
“Brooke, I’m here. I’ll get you out.”
I recognized the voice. Of all people, why did it have to be him? My heart thumped at a new level as Marcus’ dark silhouette peered over the edge of the hole.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just my ankle, I think it’s sprained.”
“It looks like you’re in an old abandoned well shaft.”
For the first time since falling, I looked at my surroundings. Sometime during my anguish, unbeknownst to me, my eyes had adjusted to the dark. I could vaguely make out now that I was in a round hole, lined with moss-covered rocks.
“Brooke, I have to go for help.”
“No!” I blurted. “Don’t leave me here.”
Marcus hesitated. “I need a rope. There’s one on the boat.”
“It’s too dark.”
“Okay, I won’t leave. I’m just going to look around the well for something. Hang on.”
I stood in the middle of the well, gnawing on my bottom lip, my hands clutched against my chest, afraid he wouldn’t come back.
“I promise I won’t leave sight of the well,” he yelled out, his voice now an uncomfortable distance away.
I nodded nervously, not thinking he couldn’t see me.
An immeasurable amount of time passed as I stood there, too frightened to move again. Then the sound of Marcus’ voice filled me with relief.
“I found a fallen tree. I’m going to lower it down. It’s heavy, so watch out.”
With my eyes glued to his silhouette, I hobbled backwards until my back hit the damp rocks that made up the wall of the well.
With many grunts and some colorful words, Marcus managed to lower the tree into the well. Some of its limbs broke off, crashing around my feet, but the main part of the tree stayed whole. As he climbed down, I worried the dead wood would break under his weight and he would come crashing down, but it held.
Once his feet hit the ground beside me, I didn’t care who he was anymore; I flung my arms around his neck and held on tightly. After a brief hesitation, I felt his hands on my waist. My eyes closed, and I pressed my face into the softness of his
As I sat there, the darkness seemed to come alive. My eyes grew wider and wider. Blinking became an effort. The new silence became so deafening; I was scared to yell out again.
A low throaty rattle broke the silence. In the middle of the circle, against the midnight blue of the evening sky, the shape of a large bird sat amidst a tangle of tree branches. Its sharp caw echoed in the tunnel-like space that surrounded me. A familiar sound I remembered from Aunt Rachel’s front yard the day I’d moved to Deadwich. I snapped my head down and stared straight ahead again.
Unpleasant warmth seeped under my skin. I blinked away the trickle of perspiration that ran down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging them, but I didn’t move. My body was on lock-down now, as it always was in the face of my worst fear—the dark. I felt it close in around me, become thick and heavy. Breathing became an effort. I was too terrified to move a muscle for fear the darkness would see me. Like holding your breath, waiting for a cold wave to crash over you, I held mine waiting for the darkness to claim me.
Just when I thought I would go insane and be swallowed whole, a distant sound brought me hope. With my ear tipped upward, I held my breath and listened keenly.
“Brooooooke … .”
I sucked in a sharp breath and yelled back. “Here. I’m down here. Help!” I didn’t know or care who it was, they were calling my name, and it filled me with hope.
“Brooke, I hear you. Where are you?”
“I’m in a hole. Down here.” A rush of adrenaline pumped through me. With my good leg, I pushed myself into a standing position.
“Brooke, I’m here. I’ll get you out.”
I recognized the voice. Of all people, why did it have to be him? My heart thumped at a new level as Marcus’ dark silhouette peered over the edge of the hole.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just my ankle, I think it’s sprained.”
“It looks like you’re in an old abandoned well shaft.”
For the first time since falling, I looked at my surroundings. Sometime during my anguish, unbeknownst to me, my eyes had adjusted to the dark. I could vaguely make out now that I was in a round hole, lined with moss-covered rocks.
“Brooke, I have to go for help.”
“No!” I blurted. “Don’t leave me here.”
Marcus hesitated. “I need a rope. There’s one on the boat.”
“It’s too dark.”
“Okay, I won’t leave. I’m just going to look around the well for something. Hang on.”
I stood in the middle of the well, gnawing on my bottom lip, my hands clutched against my chest, afraid he wouldn’t come back.
“I promise I won’t leave sight of the well,” he yelled out, his voice now an uncomfortable distance away.
I nodded nervously, not thinking he couldn’t see me.
An immeasurable amount of time passed as I stood there, too frightened to move again. Then the sound of Marcus’ voice filled me with relief.
“I found a fallen tree. I’m going to lower it down. It’s heavy, so watch out.”
With my eyes glued to his silhouette, I hobbled backwards until my back hit the damp rocks that made up the wall of the well.
With many grunts and some colorful words, Marcus managed to lower the tree into the well. Some of its limbs broke off, crashing around my feet, but the main part of the tree stayed whole. As he climbed down, I worried the dead wood would break under his weight and he would come crashing down, but it held.
Once his feet hit the ground beside me, I didn’t care who he was anymore; I flung my arms around his neck and held on tightly. After a brief hesitation, I felt his hands on my waist. My eyes closed, and I pressed my face into the softness of his
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