The Cave

A man walks through a dark cave.

When did he get here? Where did he come from? How did he meet these people? What was his name before coming here?

What lies in the next room? How long must we travel? What will we find when we reach the end of this place?

Will there be food and water soon? When will we be able to rest? How far have we travelled? How far do we have to go?

But for all of these questions, these ponderings in this dark place through which they traveled, when they came to the end of the room, their thoughts converged to one final question.

What will we find in the next room?

Had they been traveling for a few days? A week? Had it been mere hours since they set out?

When kept in the dark, one’s sense of time tends to stretch and flicker.

I wonder, what do the faces of the others look like?

It was the hunger and the exhaustion. That was it. It had to be. Why else would his memories of the outside be so hazy?

The sounds of footsteps from the others stopped. They had reached the wall of this room.

It was his turn to go first into the next room. He took a breath. The air had no taste, no smell, nothing to indicate what was to come.

Nothing to remind him of what this room had been

Would this next room be like the ones they had come through? Come to think of it, what had the ones they had come through been like?

Footsteps. The party had gone in to the next room. It was the girl’s turn to go first into the next room after all.

He was very glad that it had not been him

How long had they been walking? Surely it must be time for a break already? Or had they just taken one a moment ago?

This next room was dark, Perhaps even darker than the previous room. No, he hadn’t been able to see anything before.

Could there be a greater darkness than a place no light could reach?

Crunch

What was that? Had someone else stepped on something? Or were the walls of this room slowly closing, crunching rocks that lay in their path? Would he too be crunched by the walls of this room?

He felt something on his foot. He looked down

He saw nothing. But he was sure he’d heard something. Something like a footstep. Like his own footsteps.

Had his party lost him? He could no longer hear their footsteps; should he start running? But what if he tripped and twisted his ankle? No one would be there to help him.

Should he cry out? No. He the others would think he was crazy.

He had to hurry to catch up. But what was that crunch he had heard? Had he stepped on something?

Footsteps. He heard footsteps as he walked toward what he hoped was the next room. One set of footsteps. But hadn’t there been three of them? No, there had always been just him and the girl. His memory was hazy, but he could recall there being only two of them entering the cave

But what was that crunching noise he’d heard? Had she heard it too?

More footsteps

But what was it? Surely, she must be as curious as he was. But what if she wasn’t? What if she thought him stupid or crazy Best not to ask.

Crunch

There it was again! That crunching sound! He couldn’t just be imagining it.

Could he?

The wall. They had reached the wall. The footsteps stopped briefly before resuming. He was glad it wasn’t his turn to go first into the next room.

He was thirsty. He needed some water. But if he stopped, the girl would lose him.

Perhaps he could reach into her bag without her knowing and take some water? No, for what if she caught him? What would she think?

Better to continue on. He was glad at least, for the sounds of her footsteps keeping him company. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her

Crunch

A third time! It was driving him mad! He had to know what the source of this crunching was! That was it. He’d resolved himself: he would ask what was making the crunching sound.

Ask who? Whoever was making the sound of those footsteps, he could not remember what they sounded like.

Come to think of it, what did he sound like? If he spoke, how could he be sure it was his own voice, and not simply someone else speaking at the same time he was?

Whoever this person was, they would only know as much about the crunching as he did. Better to keep his questions to himself. He didn’t want to come off like he was crazy.

But who would judge him? Surely this situation would excuse at least a little social slipup, given how long they’d been walking. And they were without things.

But what things? He was sure he needed something, but what?

Water! Yes, that was it, he needed water. It was the thirst, the darkness, the exhaustion that was causing his mind to play these tricks on him.

Was that the wall? Where was the door in it? Would he have to go through first this time? There was someone else to go through instead of him, right? Didn’t he remember someone else doing that?

Footsteps a little way away. Someone else must have gone through the door before him. He was safe for now. He would just follow the sound of footsteps

Wait, where were the footsteps? Where was the sound he had been following? How could he know where to go without someone else to guide him?

Had the footsteps left him? Had he gotten too far away? Had he embarrassed himself and made them think he was crazy?

They wouldn’t leave him to die down here, right? Was there some other sound that he could follow?

The crunch. Yes yes, that was it. That was the sound he was following. He had heard it before, and it had always been in the same direction from which he heard footsteps. He simply needed to hear another of those crunching sounds

Where was the crunching sound? Hadn’t it been hours since the last one? Or was it just a moment ago?

Time will get a little mixed up when one lives only in one’s own mind

Why was he walking through these rooms? What was he searching for? What was it that he wanted?

Crunch

He didn’t want to be thought of as crazy

Crunch

He needed to follow the sounds from ahead of him

Crunch

He needed to find water. He was so tired and thirsty.

He wished he wasn’t alone. There was no one else to go through the door in front of him.

Things were lonely for the man who’d killed his companions

Things were lonely for the man who followed his own footsteps in the dark.