aaron_the fall of america_chapter_14

Chapter 14

Just when I thought I was nearing the end of my dig to the outside of my confinement, I resurfaced to discover there were no walls to hold me in any more. I didn't want to believe that my digging was for nothing but it was as plain as the day was blindingly bright that there were no walls and nothing to indicate that there ever were any walls.

I couldn't decide if I had been imagining the entire past event or if what I was seeing now was a hallucination. I lay on my stomach to study how the hole I had so diligently constructed was mocking my effort at a goal. I didn't want to leave the work unfinished or unused but there was no purpose in a tunnel from one spot to another it there wasn't an obstacle to overcome.

I had to keep closing my eyes to give them a rest, they were unaccustomed to light. I searched for familiar things but the only thing I understood was the hole, the pile of dirt, my foot, hand and knee prints in the dirt and a small pile of excrement. It was an odd predicament to call home as I felt it had become. It was the first time I remembered seeing where I was.

Relearning how to see and comprehending that there were no walls around me, I ventured to look beyond my small space. Things were of a slightly strange proportion. I felt small. The foliage was thick, yet somehow sparse. Although colours were normal enough for me, plants were quite different than I was used to, even from jungle trips. Everything was thick as if the gravity was too strong for delicacy. The planet had more mass than Earth so it could have more gravitational force. If I remember correctly, that's how it works.

Tentatively, I stood up and worked my way past the point where a wall had been. It was like moving into a world that had been created for my exploration of it. A new world was there for me to discover. That was it. I was dreaming. If I lay down to sleep, I'd wake up back where I was in the dark of my little prison cell. But that didn't make sense. I know when I'm awake; it's when I'm dreaming that I usually don't know I'm not awake. But when I'm dreaming I usually think I'm awake, in fact it's seldom a question. I was just about to settle for the 'did I dream I was a butterfly or was I the butterfly that dreamed I was a me.' Nonsense. I was awake. I passed up the idea of proving it to myself when I saw how filthy I was and felt. In my laps of personal hygiene concern, my body had been collecting sweat and dirt.

I touched a tree. It felt as hard as steel. A leaf was big enough to make a hat. An easy pull did not break one off. I was about to become determined to rip a leaf off until I remembered I didn't have any use for a leaf. What I need was water. Not just for the concurring of my increasing thirst, but also to shed what seemed like a skin of death that had cocooned my body. I wanted to be clean for my new world.

The craft was another thing. I needed to find my craft. I looked around for foot prints but there was none outside of the loose dirt of my previous prison and home.

I wanted to wander off in search of my craft but decided my hole was my only point of reference. I'd have to know where I was so that I could have a place to circle out from to find my lost ship. I wasn't free to meander about. I'd have to mark and learn the area. I'd have to stay smart and alert to survive. I was already at a disadvantage. I couldn't afford to get more lost, if that was possible.



read on. book_01 chapter_15



by Joanne B. Washington

© 2001 | the jose wombat project