The Dream and the Journey > The Director

Page 3 (The Director)
Page 3 (The Director)

“The Night?”
“Yes – are you going to read it?” I watched Hannah’s eyes as she glanced over it.
The night was much like any other night. It was dark.
In fact, it was exceptionally dark, a moonless void that swamped all that was above, stabbed through by leafless branches. Below, in a black soiled pit lay myself. This hole had swallowed me whole, a ten-foot drop, but perhaps only four foot across. A large hole.
The nearest village was five miles from the hole.
When I had fallen, I had partly folded on the way down, having being caught quite by surprise, by this completely unexpected trap. Well, the weight of me on impact had pushed a pen stored in my backpack, right through my side.
It was perhaps quite fortunate that I was not slight of build, the pen had pierced flesh, not organs, or else I’m recounting this tale from the other side.
The night had come upon me, I had not bothered to move, the shock alone had left me in a near stupor and it would have been quite fitting to see a hookah smoking caterpillar.
When my intellect had finally accepted the predicament, I observed a number of points, it was night, I was in pain, I was in a hole in a forest five miles from the nearest village and – I was in a hole. I suspected it was a trap as mentioned earlier, but for whom or what was a puzzle, there were no large animals in the vicinity. Its breadth was too short for a grave, I was after all concertinaed.