Whisper

Chapter 8, Lost

I let out a scream as I feel the ground drop out from under me. Looking up into the tree tops and wonder if it were possible to reach up and grab one of the branches. The air in my lungs is taken from me as I hit something cold and hard. Winded I turn over and cough, trying desperately to gather the air that I had just lost.
Facing the stone floor, I see that it is not only cold, but also wet. I look to my hand and open the bag that it is clasping. I watch waiting for movement inside. Becoming relieved from seeing the creature climb out staying close to the floor, I see that it is not injured, which comes to me as not a surprise because it landed on my stomach.
I watch as it scampers around on the stone, looking for an exit along one of the dark walls. I push myself up into a sitting position, and shudder as I feel a drop of water fall onto my forehead. Looking up I see daylight through a small hole, from which I came from, in what appears to be a ceiling. Knowing that it is not an option to climb up to it, I look around me to find another way out.
Glancing around me and find that I appear to be in an old underground cellar. The walls of the room are stone, same as the floor. Shadows cast themselves along the corners and a few of the far walls, limiting my vision. As I angle my body to the left, I feel an odd sensation in my lower back. I look down to find that there is a fragment of broken wood sticking in my side.
Oddly enough I feel no pain. I turn so that I can view the other side of me. The grey fragment of wood penetrates all of the way through to my back. I sigh as I see the blood pooling around me, knowing that it is best that I keep all of the blood that i have left inside of me. Deciding that it is most likely a wise decision to remove it, I wrap the ends of my shirt around the longer side and pull.
Seeing that my hands are now covered in the crimson liquid, I scoot over to a puddle. Placing my hands in the shallow water I scrub one with the other. In the dim light I can barely make out whether my hands are clean or if they need more scrubbing. As I decide that I should continue a bit more, I feel a tug on my pouch. I look to the silver chain attached and see that the chipmunk has disappeared into the shadows.
Searching through my satchel, I eventually find the familiar metal cylinder that is my flashlight. Removing the light from the bag, I flip it on and point it towards where the chain leads to. I gasp in astonishment as I notice the huge tunnel that I has absentmindedly refused to acknowledge. It was about six feet in diameter, and had crisply cut corners along the mouth of the tunnel.
Staring into the crevice, I examine the floors even further. Seeing that the only differences between the floor that I am standing on and the floor of the tunnel is that it seems a hell of a lot creepier, and seems to have many more rat skeletons dotting the passageway. Sighing, I shrug my shoulders and step into the opening of the tunnel.
Hearing the slight sound of scuffling, I whip around to see what has disturbed the silence. Looking to my own two feet, I repeat the same motion as before when the noise occurred. As I hear the sound bounce off the cellars walls, I find that it is somewhat similar. Knowing that I can not re create the exact motion that I made before, due to the very fact that I am merely observing it, and therefore changing the result.
Smiling as I remember when I heard that phrase for the very first time. It was december, and I was visiting my grandparents on the south side of town. I had slipped on the ice that had encased the sidewalk outside. My grandfather sat by me afterwards and asked me what happened. I replied with the classic version of me in my childhood self; I acted the scenario out.
As I get up off of the front porch stairs, I walk over to where I had fallen. Narrating the scene, I gather a fistfull of snow, and chuck it into the street. As the force of the throw shoots me backwards a few feet but unlike last time I didn't fall. I say what my small child like mind was thinking,"I didn't fall this time?" Moving back to my perch atop the highest stair on the front porch of the cream colored house.
Looking up from my cold hands, I see that my grandfather has placed his hand on my shoulder. Listening to his following sentence of which I still remember quite clearly until this day for a fact. He said to me,"My dear, sometimes we can change the outcome of events just by watching them. Remember this, no matter how hard you try, you will never be able to purposefully enable what was simply an accident. It simply can not be done, each moment is one of a kind, just like you.
The soft smile that is presently occupying my emotions, disappears as I watch the memory fade away into the darkness of the tunnel of which I stand in. I point my flashlight at the ground, revealing the large quantity of rodent skeletons along it. I hold my own precious pet in my hand as if to protect him from the horrors of this place.
In a way having another living creature depending on me to get it back to the safety of the sun lit forest, it reminds me of what I would do with Danny when we were kids. After dark we would go on adventures, just small ones like finding the neighbors lost cat, or finding the culprit of the broken nut shells in our driveway. One night a group of kids from a neighboring town found us studying insects along the sidewalk.
In the end, I ended up standing up for my brother, and protecting him from those bullies. Turning towards the small helpless creature in my hand, I attach the small sliver of metal hanging from my bracelet to the furry animals collar. I hold it further away from me, as to gauge what the inscripted silver flake looks like on the small animal.
Danny. I whisper reading the small inscription on the metallic flake. I give the creature a few reassuring strokes down its back, it caves to my fingers, rubbing its face in the tips, I hold it for a bit longer before placing it back in my brown faux leather side pouch. I turn behind me as I thought that I heard a noise, however there seems to be nothing there.
In front of me, I find that my path parts into two ways. Standing before both openings, I find that I can hear what seems to be a faint whoosh of an exterior breese, accompanied by familiar sound of rustling of leaves. Angling my ear towards one of the openings, I find that it is coming from further inside the tunnel. Deciding that it is my best bet to get out of here, I head towards the noise.
Walking along the tunnel, I point my flashlight up along the ceiling, examining what has the possibility to fall on top of my head. Horrified by the many clusters of overly large spiderwebs, and bug cocoons, as well as the occasional bat family, point the flashlight ahead of me. My eyes widen as I see that there seems to be a sharp turn in the tunnel, accompanied by a rather large raccoon, that has been deceased for about a month judging by the smell.
I freeze mid step in the narrow tunnel, as I hear a crack underneath my feet. Pointing the flashlight towards the source of the sound I become deeply relieved as I find that what I had stepped on had just been a stiff piece of ice. Now fearing that I might end up stepping on an actual bone, not just an old piece of ice, I keep my eyes focused on my feet.
As I focus the beam of the flashlight on the path in front of me, I hear shifting of something along the path behind me. I stop walking and slowly turn around to face what is behind me. I let out a high pitched scream as I find that I am greeted by several rows of sharp yellow teeth