The Abyss (Published in The Foundationalist)

An unfortunate Explorer who was trapped in the abyss looked up, saw nothing but stone and darkness, and as this was the case, they frowned, for all was certainly quite upsetting at the present moment. In being sensible, The Explorer was sure to admit that their being in this abyss was actually not by accident, and they had put themselves there with express conviction. They had, with good knowledge of the invariable consequences, lowered themself into the darkness and slipped through a system of involuted tunnels, all in the name of reaching the point at which they now found themselves. So, given that they had put themselves there and had been given abundant time with which to turn back, The Explorer felt now that they were in no place to lament their current conditions, and so instead, in the nature of attempting to distract themself, The Explorer tried now to look about. 

This action alone was also remarkably difficult, as The Explorer had gotten themselves into a particular tight abyss, wherein light was not present, and the air hung heavy and oppressive. At the spot where The Explorer now rested, they were forced by a matter of contortion to lie supine, with their head turned sharply to the right and their palms flatly rested on a cool stone floor. Above The Explorer, there were only miles of rock, which had come to resolutely rest an inch from their head, making any attempts to turn their neck straight quite impossible entirely. This situation did alter, whereupon the rock came very nearly to the point of resting on The Explorer’s own breast. Here, they were made to take only shallow breaths, in the insufficient variety, so that no inhalation was ever truly enough to satisfy The Explorer’s need for air. To their immediate left and right, it is of some note that the walls were only wide enough for The Explorer to shift themselves an inch or two at most. 

The Explorer supposed this was not unlike a coffin in that there was an abundance of natural Earth rising squarely for a great distance above their head, and most impressively, there was no place to move one’s limbs at all. The Explorer then surmised that perhaps coffins were uncomfortable sorts of places because their occupants were almost surely in no position to complain. Cadavers, as they came, were generally content with their due arrangements, given that constriction and the likewise agony of being unable to move are hardly things that the dead pay much mind to. But as The Explorer in the abyss was presently quite alive, and insofar as they could tell, not at all a cadaver, they were all the same undeniably distressed. 

The Explorer considered that in having put themselves in this troubling situation, it was sensible to assume that there was a way in which they might put themselves back out. Although in now attempting to remember how exactly they had gotten to this point, The Explorer came up infuriatingly short of any conclusive answer. The Explorer, of course, remembered entering the abyss and recalled with some precision the places they had been before reaching the current one. They recalled a numerous wrong turn and formerly coming upon a small cavern possessing a decoration of blue moss that sprawled as veins. These visions now came like dreams to The Explorer, who could not imagine that they had ever even seen such things at all. In fact, though having taken place only hours prior, The Explorer now found that their memories of these events were fragmented. It was as though one were watching recollections through a flipbook that had been abridged for time. In this manner, certain gaps were left notably absent and thereby rendered The Explorer’s attempts at remembering altogether useless. The Explorer thought it might actually help them if they could earnestly recall their errors so as to take corrective measures. They were surely not afraid of remembering, nor were they in any way opposed to a potential form of self-rescue. It was then strikingly odd and particularly inconvenient that The Explorer’s mind should be so terribly blank. Or, as it has been made evident, The Explorer’s mind was not entirely blank but, indeed, a strange compilation of generally unusable scenes that played in double speed with alarming discordance. 

The Explorer then considered that they had read somewhere that when trapped in such a space, air itself has a tendency to dissipate, becoming thin and then fleeting and then, in an undeniably wretched conclusion, virtually nonexistent at all. Considering these truths, the fellow then noted that the air had already gone into a state of rarity, such that in now attempting a few shallow breaths, the fellow was made even less satisfied than before. At the present moment, this predicament of full breath was most pressing on the fellow’s mind, as they had not taken a single conclusive inhale in several hours. The Explorer thought then that perhaps this was torture and that they were, in fact, doing a remarkably good job at weathering an entirely harrowing set of circumstances. Short, shallow breaths, made in rapid succession, were not of any use, nor were they in any way helpful in giving the fellow time to think. And they needed this time to think, as surely there was no escaping the abyss without having at least ample time to plan or otherwise scheme. 

The fellow then thought, to themselves more than anything, that they would mostly like to turn their head leftwards. For many hours now, the fellow had rested with their right cheek pressed firmly to the stone floor and their neck craned at a ghastly angle. However, whereupon the fellow attempted to shuffle or readjust themselves such that this singular moment of relief might be given, they were reminded once more that, even in the darkness, an expanse of rock above them was looming far too low for this movement to be possible. 

The Explorer thought finally that a light might be present in the faintest peripheries of their vision. They could, even at their present angle, see just past their feet, which were, in turn, crammed hastily into an impossibly smaller passage of tunnel. Here, The Explorer believed they could see a light, some pinprick reflection, glinting shimmer, suggesting a way of escape. At once, the air grew heavier as the fellow decided now that this light was certainly a vision of escape. They twisted now, pressing and retracting their chest, pushing and scraping at the tunnel walls if only to slide listlessly a fraction of an inch in the direction of the light. But now, The Explorer felt that there was no sense in this. Even as they clawed and contorted, turning as a snake and writhing in a desperate fashion, the light seemed to grow remarkably closer. Not even a pinprick now, but instead something close to an incoming train, the fellow watched the light double in size, and as if to wink at him, it then promptly grew to the size of a window and positioned itself just out of The Explorer’s reach. It was nevertheless a perfect vision into a warmly lit dining room. 

Inside, there were several people, all happy and smiling. They were just sitting to eat, and a few had not even gone about untucking their napkins. The space was easy, not the least bit crowded, and assuredly ample enough to fit the gathering. It appeared someone had set the table quite well, for there were a great number of dishes all put about in the centre, and they were freshly giving off a gentle steam. The Explorer, for their part, found their current position to be terribly intrusive. They certainly would not like it if they were to throw a dinner party and, by strange circumstances, be interrupted by the appearance of a strange fellow in an abyss. This would invariably dampen the party’s mood, and furthermore, it would denude the event of its purpose. Obviously, people had come to eat, converse, and spend an agreeable evening. If they were to catch sight of The Explorer, they would then cease to be dinner guests and be forced, by matter of obligation, to become rescuers. The Explorer did not want this sort of attention, and so they tried to hide themselves as best they could in the folds of the abyss. 

As it occurred, the gentleman at the head of the table noticed The Explorer first, and he did so in a startling manner. He had brought his fist down promptly and exclaimed with great animation. 

“Look there! Look there! In the window!” 

At this, nearly all heads turned to The Explorer, although it appeared a few people were too drunk or otherwise had not heard. Those that had turned their heads exclaimed too, and some squinted as though they were unsure of what it was they were seeing. The Explorer could not blame them for this, as it was surely a strange and unusual sight to behold. The Explorer also felt ashamedly, that they were in an awfully compromising position, with no ability to properly face the gathering, nor with the space to even turn their head to address them. 

The man who had spoken before was surely the father, and his wife, herself a generally older woman with lighted eyes and a curious smile, now approached the window closer. She did so tentatively, and when she had come within five or so paces from The Explorer, she stopped. What had compelled her to do so was unclear, but she stopped then and waited. 

The Explorer did not wish to be impolite, and so they went about attempting to arrive on something worth saying. They could not be too keen nor too outspoken, for this would make the family believe that they were in the presence of some boor. This would not be ideal and would only further ruin the gathering that The Explorer had already so rudely intruded upon. With this in mind and in need of something to express, The Explorer searched themselves and decided on something short and matter-of-fact. 

“I am okay,” they called and thought to themselves that this was assuredly the best thing they could have said. 

Although this was a lie, and in truth, The Explorer was running out of air at an alarming rate. But they believed, earnestly, that what was needed was to calm the family. It was imperative that they not be put out of their cheery mood, especially not by the presence of The Explorer. After all, The Explorer thought to themselves, they had put themselves into the abyss by choice. The consequences they were now suffering were entirely their own, and it was already impossibly upsetting that they had been made a fool in front of such a lovely family. 

The Explorer tried then to look and found that there were even children at the table! This fact alone sent The Explorer into a new fit of utmost embarrassment. It was one matter when they had assumed they were only being viewed by a sensible, albeit confused, collection of adults. But they now saw a truly worrisome amount of young children, who were at present, reaching into the centre of the table while attention was not on them. Some had pilfered cranberries from a silver dish, and others had been so bold as to try for the helping of shrimp. The Explorer considered, firstly, that in their dilemma, they had forgotten how hungry they had become. Only then did they resume their panic, as their appearance was surely not one suitable for young people. Young people were not supposed to see explorers trapped in terrifying positions, deep in an abyss. The Explorer felt sure that these sights would surely develop into terrible memories that would haunt the children. Not wishing to appear haunting, The Explorer delivered a smile. What they were trying to convey, without using too much air, was the mere fact that they were okay, that there was no need for the children to panic or otherwise commit this moment to memory. 

However, even as The Explorer tried heartily to show themselves as a person who was in no hurry to be anywhere, they noted with concern that their smile did not have a pleasant effect on the adults in the room. Through the window, The Explorer could see that the children had not even turned from their thievery, and so the only people who had witnessed the smile were the older congregation. But contrary to any sort of ease, there swelled a newfound panic at The Explorer’s expression. As it would happen, The Explorer’s strained attempt at showing their sangfroid was not a successful one. More to the point, what had actually occurred was something closer to a strained grimace. It was not unlike The Explorer had been attempting to impersonate a rabid dog by way of bearing their teeth, and tensing their jaw. It was a graphic and pained look that the dinner guests rightly assumed meant that The Explorer was certainly not “Okay.” 

At once, the father darted to the window, passing his wife and casting a quick look at the table at large. From his fixed position, The Explorer could not see whether this look was a good or a bad one. But this did not matter, as the father was quickly at their side, and he spoke in a hushed voice. 

“Can’t you breathe?” he asked, and it was evident that he meant this earnestly. 

The Explorer, for their part, wished, truthfully, to explain that they most definitely could not breathe. If they were being honest, breaths had been few and far between since even before the appearance of the curious little window. Finally, if The Explorer was interested in sincerity, they would have told the father that they were on the verge of falling unconscious from lack of air. But, as it had come from the father’s lips, The Explorer felt a twinge of indignance. The father had spoken softly, in a voice that seemed fit for the bedside of an ageing relative. There, in those words, The Explorer detected a piteous concern. This would not do, and so The Explorer steeled themselves and spoke. 

“Oh yes, quite well, in fact. All is quite well.” 

The father nodded slowly, retracting somewhat but remaining, overall, hesitant. He seemed unsure of what to do or how best to handle himself. There was an expectancy from the dinner guests behind him. They were waiting for him to say something so that they might better configure their faces into the appropriate emotion. But what they could not have seen, for his back was still turned, was that the father was nonplussed. Such a strange effect had come over his face, and so he looked totally blank now. The Explorer thought smugly that the father had surely been hoping for them to express a desperate plea. The father had been hoping, whether he knew it or not, for The Explorer to openly weep and profess their thanks for having found them in their pitiful position. 

Satisfied with having sufficiently silenced the father, The Explorer further considered the family as a whole. There appeared, at a glance, to be a set of older people, presumably grandparents, and two other adults present in the room. The mother and father aside, these other two adults looked friendly enough. Perhaps they were guests in the home of the mother and father, The Explorer thought. Perhaps they had brought their children over to play, and they were just now sitting to enjoy a well-cooked meal. The Explorer felt suddenly that entirely too many sets of eyes were upon them, and so they quickly looked back to the father.

 “I apologise for intruding,” The Explorer said, finding that this was an awfully sensible thing to say. 

The father shook his head violently, and so too did the grandfather, and the house guests. 

“Not at all!” the father cried, “Look at the state of you. You must be half crushed!” 

The Explorer moved to shake their head but found that there was still no room to do so. Instead, with their cheek still placed on the cold stone, they managed only a brief strenuous shake. This did not deliver the intended effect, and instead the mother hurried over now, and placed a hand on the windowsill. She moved no further, but almost immediately, The Explorer was overcome with a panic. It seemed that their every move only heightened the family’s sympathy for them. This was not good at all, but as it stood, The Explorer could not find any other way to explain that they really didn’t need the family’s help. Of course, they surely did need help, as the abyss was only growing colder and darker, but that was not information for the family to know. 

Nevertheless, despite their protesting, the mother turned and commanded the other dinner guests to come over to the window and help. Here, they all drew closer to The Explorer and, at the mother’s insistence, reached through the window. The Explorer became aware of a great many hands touching them and felt simultaneously repulsed and comforted by the sensation. In one aspect, The Explorer had been alone for quite some time, for their journey into the abyss had began many hours ago, or perhaps days at this point. But if The Explorer was honest, the feeling of the hands, warm upon their skin, was sickening. As the many hands grabbed hold of them and began the slow work of pulling The Explorer through the window, they thought sourly that this was the very thing they had hoped would not happen. They had not wanted to ruin the dinner party. They had now wished to make the dinner guests into rescuers. This had been The Explorer’s highest priority, and now, in a terrible set of events, they were already halfway through the window. 

Once The Explorer had been fully extracted from the abyss, it was all the family could do not to gawk. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, they took in the sight before them. And The Explorer, for their part, straightened up and attempted, in a quick motion, to wipe the dust and filth from their face. Outside, church bells were chiming, and at the sound of its distance tolls, the children looked up and laughed. 

“Would you like something to eat then?” the older man, presumably the grandfather, asked. 

The Explorer eyed the table, seeing that it was somehow more decadent than it had first appeared. With some relish, The Explorer noted roasted chicken, bulbous potatoes, soups, sauces, and all other manner of viand. Indeed, salvers covered in pastries, cakes on high pedestals, and even rich bowls of custard were presented curiously upon the tabletop. And from all of this, there was a thin and steady haze of steam that perfumed the air warmly. The Explorer felt themselves grow momentarily weak at the thought of finally eating. 

Having immediately taken several surreptitious gulps of air, The Explorer had set their face about in a peaceable expression and made their aching limbs wait a moment longer for rest. For now, The Explorer addressed the family. “I cannot even think of taking your lovely food. You have already done more than enough for me. I can assure you of that. I’ll be on my way then, and you won’t have to wait to enjoy your evening. It is a lovely evening, isn’t it?” 

The Explorer tried once more to smile, but once again, it did not receive the intended effect. All at once, the family burst into protest, each member of the family talking over the other, and every voice insisting that The Explorer stay and enjoy themselves. They were far too congenial and took The Explorer by the hand, leading them further into the lovely scene. Here, they were given a chair and introduced to the children, who were then forcefully instructed to shake their newest guest’s hand. All the same, The Explorer remained worried. 

The Explorer did not have the heart to explain to the family that they had put themselves into the abyss, quite on purpose, and had done so with the express knowledge that there was every chance of them getting stuck. If the family became aware of this, The Explorer felt sure that they would be far less accommodating. Perhaps the family would even be upset with The Explorer for having now taken a seat and having helped themselves to a healthy portion of chicken and potatoes. The Explorer worried as they ate, answering each question the family directed at them in short, nondescript replies. They felt that keeping their circumstances secret was for the best and that the family could not know that The Explorer’s trouble was completely avoidable. 

 But as it would happen, the family was perfectly satisfied with The Explorer’s answers and treated them well. Even as the night progressed, and candles were incrementally relit, the family did not tire of The Explorer and their stories. They wished to hear more death-defying tales and even insisted that The Explorer reveal how exactly they had received a particularly nasty scar. The Explorer had regaled the family with these stories and enjoyed the food, and the air, and the pleasantries, respectively. 

So warm and pleasant was the night that, for a moment, The Explorer forgot themselves. They caught themselves smiling and even laughing, and only then did they realize that their seat at the table was facing the window. The very same window they had been taken from only some time ago. Through the window, there were no distant churches. Through the window, the abyss remained, and this startled The Explorer. It was every bit as cramped and dark as it had been. In fact, The Explorer marvelled that they had ever fit into it in the first place. But even as they looked at the abyss through the window, they became stoic. 

The family went about talking and joking between themselves, leaving The Explorer to their silence. And in this silence, The Explorer felt positively awful. The family was so lovely it seemed a great and wretched shame that they were made to play host to The Explorer. They looked about and saw the children, who were still attempting to pilfer a slice of cake. These were perfect children who did not need to be bothered with dirt-covered explorers. They looked then at the older grandparents and thought that it must be an awfully shameful thing for them to witness. They were a darling family, so kind and friendly that they put everything aside to bring The Explorer from the abyss. And this was a dreadful thing indeed. 

The Explorer began to sweat, not because the room had grown any warmer, but because they were now acutely aware that they were intruding. There was more love to be shared without The Explorer so rudely interrupting. The Explorer was sure of this. They had even seen it with their own eyes. In the brief seconds before the father had slammed his fist down upon the table and drawn everyone’s attention to The Explorer, they had seen the true happiness. The family had been unburdened then and free. They had been without care, conducting their night in that rare manner when nothing had gone wrong at all. In now considering the family, The Explorer felt certain that the smiles were not the same. They were newly strained smiles, pulled, taught and held there as if to proclaim that all was still alright. But The Explorer felt even more sure that this was almost definitely a facade. Or maybe it was not, and even the family could not sense that their joy was not the same anymore. Whether they were aware or not, The Explorer had altered the night in every way they had wished not to. 

Here, The Explorer turned once more to the window and the abyss beyond. It was dark. So dark that one might have looked out the window and assumed that there was a landscape to be seen somewhere. As though, when morning arrived, the window would display a snowy yard with a children’s swingset dusted lightly. 

The Explorer stood with a decisive motion, and the family quieted quickly. They watched without a word as The Explorer took a tentative step, eyes fixed plain upon the window. Even the children waited as though they had suddenly become aware that important events were occurring. 

“What are you-” the father started, allowing his voice to trail off and break away entirely. 

It was as though The Explorer had not even heard, and so they moved even closer to the window. At first, they had not been sure what it was they intended to do. A great blank assuredness had set about in The Explorer’s brain. With each step closer to the window and subsequently farther from the family, The Explorer felt that things were becoming right again. In fact, with this newfound certainty, The Explorer thought that they had been right, that the family was indeed far better off, not dealing with explorers, and abysses, and rescue efforts. This was not the duty of a family. It was not the duty of any person. No person was ever meant to spend their night rescuing lost travellers. 

Now, The Explorer placed a foot in the windowsill and ducked their head down low. With some difficulty, they slipped their feet through, allowing a brief grunt of effort. At this, as if shaken by the sound, the whole family jumped into action. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Come back!”

 “Interesting person, aren’t they?" 

The Explorer strained to hear the individual voices, trying with some satisfaction to guess which person was making which outraged cries. Some hands grabbed hold of them and tried to pull them back. The Explorer protested wordlessly and moved without stopping. It was not long before their thighs were returned to the abyss. And after this, their chest too, so that the breathless pressure once again resumed. With only their head protruding from the window, The Explorer wondered if, once they had fully re-entered the abyss, the darkness would render his form unseen. Perhaps the family could tell the children that there was snow falling outside. 

The Explorer thought that there was really no sense in it. They had put themselves into the abyss. They had wandered until they were lost and had then remained trapped in the darkness. They had known it all along that there was every chance that such an event might happen. They had been told of the feeling, told how it was a crushing pressure on the lungs and a grating effect on the mind. The Explorer, knowing this all to be true, had gone on all the same. Here, they had become rightfully stuck and left by the forces of the world to remain. Yet, a cruel chance had given The Explorer the family. They had been seen foolishly. They had been spotted by kind eyes and kind people. Against all their better judgement, they had sat to eat and even spoken to the people, the family. They were a lovely group, and The Explorer had been greedy. Nothing they had done warranted such an escape. Nothing that had occurred was deserved, or so The Explorer thought. And so it was only natural. The Explorer was not stupid and knew the family was too generous. They deserved to be good and whole again, with no interruption to their moments of wondrous joy. 

And The Explorer moved back into the abyss. Here, there was darkness and cold. Behind them, The Explorer could feel a great heat dissipating wistfully into the cave. The family was becoming distant, drifting in and out hazily. All was dark. Somehow, the abyss was tighter than before, and so The Explorer was happy. Then, it was quiet and gone, and The Explorer was wilting, as snow from the darkened eaves of night.