My stomach twisted hard, like it wanted to turn itself inside out. I bent forward, hand flat against the wall beside me, trying to steady myself. The stone was rough, jagged enough to scrape my skin if I pressed too hard, but I needed the contact. The nausea only deepened. It was not the simple sickness you feel when you eat bad food. This felt heavier, like the air itself had weight and was pressing me down.
The glow at my feet pulsed again, and the light swelled upward as though it had a heartbeat. I clenched my teeth, biting down until pain lanced through the side of my mouth. Blood filled my tongue, sharp and metallic. I spat onto the stone floor and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Wha' kinda foolishness dis?" I muttered, my voice cracking against the walls.
The echo slapped back at me, and I realized how hollow this place was. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see the forest path, the trees swaying, maybe even the faint outline of the clearing where the stone had been. But all I saw was more stone. The tunnel was sealed, smooth as if it had never opened.
My chest tightened. I pressed my hand against the wall again, this time running my palm along it as though searching for some secret crack that might still exist. Nothing. No opening. No sound of wind from outside. Just stone.
My throat went dry. "No way back," I whispered, but the words tasted like dirt. I was trapped.
I stood there, frozen for longer than I should have been, listening to my own shallow breathing. The cave gave nothing back. No voices. No birds. Not even the sound of distant wind. Just silence and the steady drip of water echoing somewhere deep ahead. The silence was worse than the nausea. It was heavy, expectant, like something was waiting for me.
The glow beneath my feet dimmed, then flared once more, and symbols appeared on the stone, faint and flickering. They shifted in patterns too quick for me to follow, twisting like living things before fading again. My skin prickled, and the hair on my arms rose. I took a step back, nearly tripping over my own feet.
"Mi cyaan deal wid dis," I muttered under my breath, the patois slipping out sharper than I intended. "A Kofi cause dis eno."
But standing still would not help. My stomach was still rolling, and my heart thudded so loud it filled my ears. I turned forward. The air in that direction felt heavier, thicker, as though it wanted to press me into the floor, but at least it offered a path. If the back was sealed, then the only option was ahead.
Each step echoed, soft at first, then louder as the tunnel tightened. The walls pressed closer the farther I walked. My shoulders brushed against damp stone. Cold moisture seeped into the fabric of my jacket, making me shiver. I ducked low under a hanging slab, almost crawling before I could straighten up again. The cave was alive with drops of water falling from above, their rhythm mocking the pace of my unsteady steps.
I wiped sweat from my forehead, even though the air was cold. The sweat was not from heat. It was fear. My hand trembled, and I clenched it into a fist, nails biting into my palm. I could hear Kofi's voice in my head, mocking, laughing, the same tone he used when he cornered me at school.
"You weak, Jeremiah. Always running, never standing."
The memory tightened my throat. I forced my pace forward. I'd sworn to myself at the start of the year that I wasn't going to run anymore. This cave was no different. I wasn't about to let some foolish, twisted place push me into backing down. No. I was going to push on, stand my ground, and get out of here.
After what felt like hours, the tunnel widened. The walls pulled back, and suddenly I stood at the edge of something vast. My breath caught. The ceiling stretched high above me, jagged with stone teeth that dripped cold water down onto the floor. Bioluminescent worms clung to the ceiling, glowing faintly, throwing a sickly green light across the chamber. The light shifted with their movements, making shadows crawl along the walls like living creatures.
But none of that held my focus for long. My eyes were drawn forward, to the gaping void that split the chamber in two.
A pit.
I stepped closer, my legs trembling as I leaned just enough to look over the edge. The darkness swallowed everything. I strained my eyes, trying to see the bottom, but there was nothing. No stone. No echo. Just a void. When I dropped a pebble, I expected the sound of it clattering against stone below. There was nothing. The silence was worse than a crash. It was as though the pit did not end at all.
The gust pushed up from the pit, strong, brushing cold against my face. For a moment, the thought slid through my mind that maybe there was a way out down there, maybe the wind was carrying from someplace deeper. But mi nah go down deh. Afta me no stupid. The strength of that breeze alone would make the journey near impossible, like the pit itself wanted to throw me back before I could even climb.
The jacket that had once given me comfort now clung to my skin, heavy with dampness. I tugged at the zipper, pulled it off my shoulders, and tied it tight around my waist. The weight shifted lower, out of my way, but it did nothing to ease the knot of fear twisting in my stomach.
I rubbed my hands together, trying to chase away the chill. The cave air clung too close, and my palms stayed clammy. I wanted to turn back, to tell myself there had to be another way out, but the memory of the sealed tunnel cut that thought short.
I scanned the chasm again, eyes darting left, right, anywhere for a path. The other side seemed impossibly far. My legs felt weak just imagining the leap. But then I saw them.
Bars. Iron bars sunk into the ceiling, stretching across the pit. A rope hung from one, swaying slightly in the damp air at the edge. My chest tightened as the realization hit. This was the way across.
I scanned the chasm again, eyes darting left, right, desperate for some sign of a path. The other side looked impossibly far, and my legs trembled just imagining the leap. Then, through the dim glow, I thought I saw it, a faint shadow of an opening in the rock, barely more than a crack, but different enough from the wall to catch my eye.
My chest tightened. It had to be an exit.
I muttered under my breath, my voice shaking but firming with each word. "The bars must lead somewhere. Nobody could be so wicked to set iron into the ceiling just to guide me to a dead end. That would be cruelty beyond reason." I swallowed hard, forcing myself to believe it. "No. These bars were put here for a reason. They lead across. They lead out."
My knees almost buckled. My lips trembled as I whispered to myself, "So a dis dem really wah me fi use and cross it? A dis yah likke piece a rope mi life a depen' pon?"
I crouched down and picked up another rock, tossing it into the void. Again, silence. No impact. Just endless dark. The silence was worse than any sound could have been.
The thought clawed at me: what if there was no bottom? What if the pit was more than stone? What if it wanted me?
I shook my head violently. "Stop it, Jeremiah. Stop play fool." My voice cracked, and I hated how small it sounded in the vast chamber. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.
There was no choice. No way back. The tunnel was sealed. The pit was waiting. And the rope was my only hope.
I swallowed hard, throat dry, and forced myself to step closer. My hands twitched at my sides, itching to reach for the rope, but my legs would not move any faster. Every step forward felt like a betrayal of instinct, my body screaming for me to run the other way.
I stopped at the very edge, toes curled inside my shoes as if that tiny grip could save me if I slipped. I stared at the rope, swaying lazily like it knew I would have to trust it. My stomach churned again, and I bent forward, breathing slow, trying to calm the tremors running through me.
"Alright," I whispered, though my voice was shaking. "Alright, mi can do dis. Mi must do dis."
The cave said nothing back. The pit waited. The air pressed down. And I knew, deep in my gut, that stepping back was no longer an option.
The rope swayed gently in the damp air, and I stared at it like it was a living thing. My throat tightened. I hated the way it moved, like it was waiting for me, daring me to grab on. The pit below stretched into silence, endless and heavy. The gusts rising from it brushed my skin again, cold and steady, as if they were warning me that no man should ever try to go down there.
I wiped my palms against my pants, but the sweat never seemed to leave. My hands trembled no matter how tightly I clenched them. I stepped closer, my shoes scraping against the stone floor, the sound far too loud in the stillness. My toes curled at the very edge, as though my body wanted to anchor itself to safety.
"You can do this," I whispered, but the words sounded weak, almost hollow.
I reached out and grabbed the rope. The fibers were coarse, rough enough to scrape against my skin, and the damp made them slick. I tugged hard, testing the strength. The rope held. Still, that did little to calm my pounding heart.
My breath came in shallow bursts. The thought of letting go made my stomach churn, but I knew standing here any longer would only make it worse. My body wanted to freeze, to back away, but my mind pushed me forward. I wrapped both hands tight around the rope, pulled it toward me, and leaned out over the edge.
The void opened beneath me. The air rising from below carried no scent of earth or stone, only a heavy dampness that clung to my lungs. I swung out slowly, my feet leaving the ground. The instant my body hung in open space, my chest seized, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
"Move, Jeremiah," I muttered through clenched teeth. "Move now before you lose your nerve."
I began to climb, hand over hand, pulling myself up the rope toward the row of iron bars fixed into the ceiling. Each tug brought me closer to the top, my muscles straining as I finally reached the first bar. I gripped it tightly, feeling the cold metal bite into my fingers, and hauled myself up so that I was now hanging from the ceiling bars above the pit. From there, I started moving across, hand over hand, Each pull pulling me farther, and farther from safety, and deeper into the hungry silence of the pit.
The darkness below seemed to shift as I moved, curling like mist, though I knew it had to be my imagination. My arms strained with the effort, muscles screaming already. My breath came loud, bouncing back at me from the cave walls. Every sound felt like it did not belong, like I was an intruder in something ancient and alive.
Halfway across, the rope shuddered. At first I thought it was my trembling arms, but then I heard it: the flutter of wings.
Bats.
They burst from the shadows in a frenzy, screeching as they swirled around me. Their leathery wings brushed against my cheeks and arms, the sound of them deafening in the silence. I jerked my head to the side as one skimmed past my face, its body cold and slick with dampness.
"Move, move!" I hissed, trying to steady myself.
My grip slipped slightly, my fingers slick with sweat, and for a terrifying moment I dangled with only one hand clinging to the bar. My legs flailed, scraping at open air. Panic surged, and I squeezed the iron until the skin of my palm stung, just enough to steady my focus.
I swung forward, straining, reaching for the next iron bar. My hand caught it, and I hauled myself closer, pressing my cheek to the cold metal as though it could anchor me. The bar vibrated faintly under my weight. That was when I felt it.
A crawling sensation against my palm.
I looked up and saw them. Tiny glowing insects clung to the metal, their wet bodies squirming beneath my grip. Their glow seeped into the cracks of the bar, making it pulse faintly. My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. I gagged, my hand twitching with the instinct to let go, but I forced my fingers tighter, crushing some of the creatures into paste. The wet squish turned my stomach worse.
"Lawd, dis nasty!" I blurted out, the words tearing from me before I could stop them. My voice bounced off the cavern walls, echoing back at me like the cave itself was mocking my disgust.
The bar groaned, shifting slightly. My heart stopped. Slowly, slowly, I edged toward the next one, muscles burning as I tried not to think about the insects crawling over my skin.
Then it happened.
As I shifted my weight, the bar I held onto wobbled hard. I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. The sound of iron grinding against stone filled the cavern, and before I could react, the bar pulled loose completely.
I cried out, the word ripping from my chest. "Jesaz!"
For a second time, I hung in open air, clutching the loose bar. My eyes widened as the realization struck: it was no longer attached to the ceiling. It was dead weight, and I was holding it as though it could save me.
"No, no, no," I shouted, voice cracking with panic.
The bar vanished into the dark. No sound followed. No echo. Just silence.
A gust of wind rose from the pit, cold and steady against my face. I froze, my arms burning as I clung to the bar above me.
Where was that wind coming from? Could there be an exit below? If I let go, would it catch me, slow me down, maybe even carry me back up? Or would I fall forever like that bar, lost in the silence?
The thought churned in my head, but I shook it off hard. "Mi nah fool," I muttered under my breath.
I gripped the iron tighter, ignoring the sting in my palms, and pulled my body forward. The only way was across.
My breath tore in ragged bursts, my chest heaving. I clung desperately to the bar with both hands, my arms trembling under the strain. My palms burned, raw from the scrape of metal, but I tightened my grip with everything I had left.
The pit below seemed to pulse with hunger. The shadows shifted, curling upward as though reaching for me, eager to claim what the bar had not. Then a sudden rush of wind surged out from the depths, cold and forceful, slamming against my body. It felt like the pit itself was exhaling, trying to knock me loose and drag me down.
I shut my eyes tight. "Not today," I whispered. "Not me."
Summoning what little strength I had, I stared at the gap ahead. The next bar hung just out of reach, farther than a simple grab could cover. My chest tightened, fear crawling up my throat. If I missed, the pit would take me.
I hesitated, my fingers trembling as they clung to the iron above. The wind rose again from below, cold and steady against my face.
I shut my eyes for a moment, forcing the panic down. "There's no going back," I whispered to myself. "The tunnel is sealed. The bar is gone. The silence swallowed it whole." My breath shook as I tightened my grip. "There aren't two choices here. There's only one. Forward."
I swung my body hard, building momentum, the iron groaning under my weight. My arms screamed, my shoulders jolting with each sway, but I pushed harder, teeth gritted, eyes locked on the bar ahead. With one desperate lunge, I let the motion carry me, my fingers stretching through the damp air, reaching for the cold metal that meant survival.
The rest of the crossing blurred into agony. My arms screamed with every pull. My chest burned. My legs dangled uselessly, brushing against nothing but air. The bats circled once more before vanishing into the shadows, leaving me in silence again. Each movement felt like it could be my last, each grip one heartbeat away from failure.
At last, I saw the final rope dangling close to the far ledge. My breath hitched. It swayed gently, close enough to touch if I pushed forward hard enough.
"Come on," I whispered to myself. "Come on, Jeremiah, one more."
I gathered every ounce of strength left in my body and swung. Time seemed to stretch. My fingers brushed the rope, slipped, then caught hold at the last possible instant. The sudden stop jerked me violently, slamming my side against the stone wall. Pain shot through my ribs, white-hot and sharp, but I refused to let go.
I clung to the rope, gasping, my forehead pressed against the rough fibers. My hands were slick with sweat and blood where the rope had cut into my skin. My muscles trembled with exhaustion, my body screaming to give in.
But I did not let go.
With a final, desperate pull, I steadied myself and inched down the rope, chest heaving with the effort as I lowered myself toward the ledge.
Then, without warning, the rope snapped.
The sound split the silence like a crack of thunder. My body lurched, dropping fast, my stomach wrenching into my throat. My arms flailed, trying to grab hold of anything as the world tilted around me. For one terrifying heartbeat, I thought the pit had me at last.
My foot slammed against the ledge, half on and half off, the rest of my body dangling into empty space. I teetered, arms swinging wildly, desperate to find balance. The edge crumbled beneath my heel, and I pitched forward. My shoulder slammed against the stone, pain flaring white-hot, and I tumbled onto solid ground.
I lay there, panting, my chest pressed to the cold floor, arms still trembling like I was dangling over the abyss. The rope hung limp beside me, its frayed end swaying gently, a reminder of how close I had come.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the faint glow from the worms far above, letting the tremble in my arms slowly ease. My palms burned raw where the rope and bars had cut them, the skin torn in places. I flexed my fingers, wincing as pain shot up to my wrists.
I whispered to myself, my voice no more than a rasp. "I made it. I actually made it."
For a second, relief tried to wash through me, but it caught against the fear still knotted deep in my stomach. I pushed myself upright, grunting. I pulled my jacket from around my waist, shook it out, and slipped it back on. The fabric clung damp and heavy, but the weight on my shoulders steadied me.
I turned back toward the pit. It lay there, silent, patient, stretching wider than my eyes could follow. The gusts of wind rose again from below, cold against my face. I swallowed hard. The thought returned, unbidden. Where does that wind come from? What lies beneath? Was it escape, or was it nothing at all?
I tore my gaze away. That way was death. I had chosen correctly.
My legs wobbled as I stood, but I forced them to steady. Each step forward pulled me farther from the pit and deeper into the chamber.