‘Don’t go in there!’ Those were the words that vibrated through Middleton Junior High whenever someone mentioned the Black Hole. But what was I supposed to do? Danny Tracker told me to, and if you didn’t do what Danny Tracker said, it was going to be a tough school year.
Danny was one of the lucky ones who hit puberty early. When he approached, you would fixate on his bulging Adam's apple, then move past the shadow on his chin to his piercing eyes. If that wasn’t enough, his sleeveless shirts graced onlookers with his defined biceps. He flexed them while gazing into the eyes of mesmerized girls.
Yup, he was the epitome of narcissism. I never understood how anyone could find a hollow fool so interesting. However, he didn't have to sit alone at lunch, and when he spoke, people paid attention. It didn’t matter how unintelligible his word salads were; the boys watched in admiration, and the girls giggled.
Danny’s biggest claim to fame was his Shit List, as he so eloquently coined it. A subjective list that changed at his whim. Your place on the list depended on a few factors: you made him feel inadequate, you were smaller than him, or the mere fact that he could use you to appease his masses.
It was in 7th grade when my name made its way to the top of the list. A car hit my best friend Alyssa, and I was in Danny’s math class after word had broken. Something must have pissed Danny off that morning, because apart from the occasional teasing, I was not high on his list. This event was much grander than usual.
“I heard Alyssa got hit by a car.” A strange and worrying smile crossed Danny’s face as the lip on the right side of his face curled. I did not respond; he would have something lined up for any retort. This tactic wasn’t the best choice, as his eyebrows joined forces and his knuckles turned white clenching the end of his desk.
“I hope she fucking dies!” His eyes right into mine. Heads turned, and everyone else joined Danny in expectation of my next move.
Before I tell you my response, I want you to know that I hate curse words. They are lazy. Especially when there are a plethora of words in the English language you could use to dismantle someone; Shakespeare taught us that. Yet, that didn’t stop my emotions from forcing me to become a hypocrite; “Go fuck yourself, Danny!”
Next thing I knew, a warm sensation was trickling its way down my forehead and onto the unforgiving floor I lie on. I felt little pain at that moment; I didn’t get a chance. I was not conscious again until the nurse’s office.
Any time I saw him the rest of the year, he graced me with the words, “One-hit wonder.” The physical torment that followed that phrase would replay in my mind before many attempts to sleep. But I did my best to keep my head down throughout the year, and the taunting and abuse diminished—well, as much as it could.
Either way, I never wanted to be that high on the list again, and that's what brought me to my current predicament. Danny got bored one summer day hanging outside the arcade with his entourage. The arcade “fortuitously” sat next to the drugstore, the only place I could get my inhaler refilled. Unfortunately, my mother had a deal with the pharmacist, who allowed me to pick up refills on my own. This, of course, made me an easy target to alleviate Danny’s boredom.
Before Danny and his followers were aware of my presence, I took the opportunity to grip the wall and try to slip into the pharmacy unseen. As I was about to enter the store, one of Danny’s self-proclaimed famous biceps was around the back of my neck, guiding me in the other direction. Sure, I could have tried to break free, but even if I had, I didn’t have my refill, and my asthma would have clenched my lungs before I got away.
“We’re going into Grade 9 next year, and it’s time to prove yourself a man.” Delivered almost like a friend trying to help.
Fear of the possibilities he had planned squeezed my larynx shut. Then I saw it—the lip on the right side of his face curled up into a smirk; he had something vile in mind.
“We’re going to take a walk through Lamoine Woods and find the Black Hole,” he said, adding a wink for good measure. He must have felt my body tense because then he added, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you don’t, you’re a pussy.”
Peer pressure is a weird thing. In any classroom, I could dismantle my peers’ arguments, and sometimes even my teachers’. But the argument, “If you don’t do it, you’re a pussy,” from Danny was one of the strongest I've heard.
My thoughts travelled back to Alyssa. How could I stand here and accept Danny's challenge when he diminished her to a quick diatribe? And what did I do to defend her? My measly attempt at chivalry consisted of lying on a floor, bleeding. I needed to prove Danny wrong for her.
“If you want to prove that you’re not a pussy, you’ll have to bring back the top rock.” Danny was referring to the pile of stones at the end of the cave. No one knew how they got there, and the only reason we knew was the gap at the top of the cave where the pile sat below. Tim, Danny’s right-hand man, found it when walking his dog. Tim told everyone that the gap almost got him whole and showed the streaks of dried scab that continued from the bottom of his shin to his knee.
As Tim explained it, the pile of rocks looked like a pyramid. Although he wasn’t able to get a genuine sense of the size, he described it as “Fucking massive!”
Although I’m sure he was being hyperbolic, as any middle schooler would be, the idea of trying to reach the top of an immense pile of rocks was terrifying. Would I be able to find good footing and make my way to the top? Or would the whole thing come tumbling down? Either way, I was not looking forward to this adventure.
Not long after Tim’s discovery, Danny and the rest of the flock had seen it for themselves. They even challenged each other to get the top rock in an attempt to prove themselves. None of them ever did. Even Danny himself was too scared, but he did not let them know it. “I’m only giving the rest of you the opportunity to be a man like me,” he would say. This was an obvious cop-out, but no one wanted to challenge him for fear that he might force them to go in the cave.
Still, the idea of the top rock became a legend around the school. The hunt ended once stories about missing kids from other towns who went after it circulated the school.
As Danny and his disciples escorted me through the woods, my eyes played tricks on me. Shadows on the trees made faces that contorted and shifted as they whispered to turn back. The only things that kept me going were the footsteps and giggling from Danny Tracker and his crew. They were hoping I would back out; that way they would have the entertainment of coming up with new obscene things to yell at me.
The closer we got, the harder the sun fought its losing battle against the blanketing canopies above.
We approached the cave known as the Black Hole. Was this really meant to be my fate? To become another clichéd story about a kid who should have listened to the warnings?
The entrance was just big enough for a small eighth-grader like myself to fit. The brim of the cave glistened from the last bit of sun hitting the moss-covered rocks. It would have been beautiful, but the gaping abyss that stood in the centre snatched away any beauty. This was where the sun finally lost its battle, and the only thing left was nothing itself.
“Now gimme your phone! Don’t want you cheating, using your light," Danny said as he jammed his hands in my pocket and ripped my phone away. I lunged forward, but when Danny raised his fist, my body cemented. With me frozen, Danny grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the entrance of the cave. He then shoved me forward. “Hurry up! I can’t wait on your ass all day!”
I stood there, focused on the darkness. It amazed me how devoid of light something could be. It was so dark that your eyes would think they saw movement in the different shades of black. I could only imagine the horrors that awaited me.
“I told you he was a fucking pussy!” Danny yelled, adding the curse to assert his claim. His head turned to each of his followers to see if he gained their approval; otherwise, he would have to repeat it with more vigor and cursing. Luckily for me, it was a hit. Seeing them slapping their knees or grabbing their bellies to appease their master was enough for Danny.
I wondered what prompted his crass remark, but then I realized my legs had rejected my brain’s orders to march forward. I did the only thing I could think of: I muttered, “You’re not a pussy,” and my feet started to lift. I repeated this phrase with each step until the nothingness consumed me, and Danny and his congregation vanished.
I reached my arms out on each side; my body shivered from the cool, wet substance that transferred to my fingertips. At least I could use the wall to guide my way, even if my mind pondered the disgusting ingredients that made up the concoction that coated the walls.
I tried to keep my pacing slow and steady, but the echo of a rock separating from the ceiling put my legs in a panic. The sound came from something that only a 14-year-old’s nightmares could conjure.
My footsteps slapped against the puddles, creating a sound louder than the one I was running from. That was until a stone bent my ankle. Searing pain shot upwards, freezing my leg, and I flew, arms stretched out grasping at air. Then came the tearing of flesh as the gravel along the cave floor ground against my chest.
My lips parted as far as they could to scream, but the pain choked my vocal cords; only a faint wheeze escaped my body.
I flipped onto my back, and my hands shook as I smoothed them over my chest. My body flinched each time my hands hit an open wound, but the good news was that the blood only smeared on my palms and didn’t rush like a river.
I have to be honest with you; I wasn't strong throughout this entire journey. The pain from my chest brought the thought of giving up and clouded my courage. The only thing that kept me going was Alyssa lying in a hospital bed somewhere while I did the same on the cave floor. She would heal from her wounds, get out of that bed, and continue her journey. The least I could do was match her strength.
With this in mind, I forced myself to my one good foot and hopped with my forearm sliding against the wall. Each hobble sent me forward like a broken-down car with an engine that wasn’t ready to quit. My breathing didn’t sound that far from it either. I wished Danny would have found me after I had refilled my inhaler. Luckily, the slow pace helped my lungs open enough for me to push forward.
I noticed some shimmering on the sides of the cave ahead. The resurgence of light, although very little, brought hope and provided me with enough courage to see my task through.
The open area wasn’t large but ran much higher than my previous path. It formed a dome in the shape of a cul-de-sac. The walls changed from gray to black depending on how the light hit. Vines had snuck their way through cracks and grew stronger and more in number towards the top of the dome. They intertwined at the opening, distorting the view, but the light still managed to find a way. It shimmied through the vines, highlighting the pile of rocks like a video game would an important item for a quest. My eyes moved from the bottom of the pile, up the pyramid, to the grail. I realized the very top stood at least double my height, and with my ankle the way it was, this was going to hurt.
My arm grazed along the wall until it left its stable comfort. I eased my right foot to the cave floor; my toe touched first, then lightning shot up my leg. My body jerked it back unconsciously. But I was too determined; I was done being the afraid little boy. I put my toes back down and pushed further until the ball of my foot and heel joined my toes. The pain still seared, but not as sharp as before.
I was finally there, ready to force my body to the summit. I lifted my bad leg first so my good one could provide a solid foundation. Then, my arms tensed as I used them to pull myself up, avoiding pressure on my ankle.
As I made my ascent, the rocks danced under my weight, scraping against each other. They held enough for me to make it inches away from the coveted top rock.
Of course, this was when my adrenaline decided it was time to leave and exhaustion made itself at home. My arms were no longer tense and began to wobble. My legs, the one thing I needed for support, started trembling. With only one more push, I would have been able to pluck my prize, but my body would not allow it. It was time to reach.
I took a deep breath, and the words “I’m not a pussy” filled the dome. With my newfound courage, I flexed my thighs the best I could and dug my good foot into the rock to cement my base. My legs understood the assignment, so I stretched my arm until a burning sensation crept from my shoulder to my wrist.
My fingers slid along the rock, bouncing against its jagged edge. I wedged the edges in my fingernails and pulled back, but this was in vain. I then tried pawing at it to get it to shift towards me for a better grip. The rock gave some ground, but so little that it seemed to do so only out of pity. It was enough that everyone at school pitied me for the way Danny treated me; I would not let some inanimate object do the same.
Blood started coursing through my body; my legs steadied and stretched along with my arms. My fingers assaulted the rock, hitting it from left to right until it conceded and embraced the clasp between my pinky and thumb.
My triumph was complete. I would make my way down the pile, through the dark cave, and then exit victorious, throwing the rock at Danny’s face, yelling, “See, I’m not a pussy!”
I wish I could tell you that’s what happened, but unfortunately this is not a fairy tale. You see, grasping the top rock made me give up the cemented footing. And that’s when my left ankle decided it would join my right in solidarity. As the ankle bent and slid off the rock, the rock itself decided to join me on my journey downwards. Since this looked like so much fun, the other rocks in the pile didn’t want to be left out and followed along as well.
My back hit the ground first, expelling my breath alongside droplets of blood from my mouth. Next was my head. A sharp cracking sound, followed by dull but encompassing pain that left a ringing in my ears and a fog that covered my thoughts.
It was then time for the onslaught. The rocks piled over me like a wave, crushing my muscles and snapping my bones under their weight. They spared my head—must have thought the ground already did the job there—but covered the rest of my body.
The whole symphony of pain took less than 30 seconds, and when the dust settled, a warm liquid pooled against my tattered flesh. I wasn’t sure if it was piss or blood, but oddly enough I hoped for the latter. I couldn’t bear the thought of people saying, “I heard he pissed himself when he died.”
The pain dissolved, leaving my legs first and finally my body in its entirety. All that was left was a tingling that travelled from my toes all the way to the top of my head. It didn’t last long, and soon there was no feeling at all.
The light at the top of the opening slipped away, and darkness made its way from the corners of my eyes until it covered them.
And that is where this story and my life end. I wish I had never gone into that cave or succumbed to Danny’s pressure. I wish I had realized that being strong would have been to stand up to Danny, and that Alyssa wouldn't care if people thought I was a pussy. This is why I hate this ending as much as you do. Even more! Especially since my last words on this earth, as I laid there with darkness settling in, were, “I am not a pussy.”
About the author
T. R. Murray is an aspiring author originally from Ontario, Canada, now living in Bangkok, Thailand. He is passionate about writing fiction that explores the complexities of human experience. T. R. Murray’s work has been published in 101 Words Magazine with the story “Mom!”
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