The Hole Ch. 01

Timothy Harris had been digging his hole for an hour when his Mom called him in for lunch. It had grown to two feet across and almost a foot deep. Right after his morning lessons his Mom had told him to go out for his "recess". Home schooling wasn't so had, but he did get awfully bored without other kids around. Generally his "recess" periods were spent torturing the neighbors' dogs, running through the woods out back, throwing rocks at birds and other innocent activities of the young.

At first he had tried to star the hole on the edge of the woods, where Mom was less likely to notice it right off. It took her awhile, but she eventually noticed when he was up to something, unless he took measures to hide his activities. The ground had been to hard though, so her freshly planted flowerbeds became the new ground zero. He already had plans to lay boards over the hole and cover them up with dirt and even a few of the tulips she had just moved from a pot to the bed.

When Tim heard his mother's shrill voice calling for him, he looked down at his grubby six-year-old hands and then past them to his now quite filthy t-shirt and shorts. He could barely see the faded Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle through the grime. His mind cast around quickly, looking for an excuse. She wouldn't believe he had gotten that dirty without getting into some mischief. Suddenly he knew what to do! He ran toward the steep hill heading toward Mr. Landers house, the hill that had been half torn up by a recent storm. With no regard for his own safety, he flung himself down the hill. On the way down he crashed through a few bushes, hit his shin on a big rock and got, if it was possibly, even more filthy.

For a moment he paused to examine his camouflage. His legs and arms were magnificently scrapped, but even better was his bloody right knee and his right hand, which had managed to pick up four or five thorns. Grinning from ear to ear, he trudged back around the hill and toward the house. On the way he realized that he seemed too happy. He started to work on managing some tears and held his breath to make his face look redder. She would never even guess what really happened.

He had decided to start the hole will flipping through the channels on the satellite dish on Saturday afternoon. Somewhere between pausing on wrestling shows, Nascar races and badly draw cartoon, he happened up a girl falling down a rabbit hole. She was a beautiful girl in a blue and white dress. She had pale white skin and long blonde hair, the sort of girl he sometimes daydreamed he would marry some day. Of course, he kept that kind of daydreaming to himself. The girls in his neighborhood certainly didn't know. He was more likely to pull their pigtails or throw a stick at them than say hello.

He watched the little girl fall down the hole for a long time, into a bizarre world with talking animals and words that rhymed. The family called him the Andretti of remotes, but for once he dropped the clicker on the floor. He sat entranced throughout the program, day dreaming about adventures in that magical world with the pale little girl. It was very soon after that he decided that he needed to dig his hole.

Now Timothy was a practical boy. He had already begun to suspect that Santa had a very close relationship to his Uncle Frank. He knew that the Ninja Turtles in his favorite movie weren't real. He had seen the footage of the guy getting the suit put on. Still, he had a vivid imagination and the bounds between the real and the not-quite-as-real were still at a six year old's level.

In his mind the hole could lead to many interesting and possibly magical places. There could be a dinosaur skeleton down there somewhere; a dinosaur that had fought a great and bloody battle and been killed. He could see the smaller dinosaur getting crushed by a T-Rex the size of his house. He had actually made the T-Rex sounds as he dug the hole, imagining the battle that must have taken place.

It might lead to a vast underground ocean where pirates were locked into endless battles with each other. He had imagined himself dropping onto the ship of Captain Bloody Beard, a ruthless pirate king with a flaming red beard. He would drop from the sky smashing into Bloody Beard's head, killing him instantly. All the pirates would instantly fall at his feet and proclaim him the new King of the Pirates! He could see himself leading his men into one raid after another, showing mercy to those who surrendered and making the others walk the plank. Of course, he had also made some sword fight noises while digging and swung his small wood handled shovel around like a sword, or at least tried to. He could dig with it, but it was a little heavy for him to swing.

Where ever it lead to would have to wait though. His mother's thin, pale frame was standing behind the screen door, waiting for him. Her face was pinched like a lemon already, but as he drew close, her eyes grew larger. "Timmy! What did you do to yourself? Are you O.K.?" She pushed the screen door open so hard that it smashed against the muddy, gray siding of the house. In moments she had grabbed her son and was wiping away the tears from his grubby face and telling him it would be O.K.