Samuel could be grateful that his sleep was peaceful again, with no nightmares. Samuel felt strangely refreshed; he could not think of any cause. Almost leaping to his feet, Samuel decided to face the day with all the vigour he could muster and leapt in the pool.
Samuel was not happy; however, he was just determined. Samuel took a deep breath and dived under the water; the fish swam lazily out of the way. He surfaced and began to swim up and down the length of the pool. He had done around ten laps; he was not keeping count.
He suddenly remembered his injury, removing his bandages; he was amazed at how much it had improved in such a short amount of time. There was a thick brown scab surrounded by fresh, pale skin. He pressed his fingers around the healing injury, which hardly hurt. Samuel concluded he no longer needed his bandage; he swam to the poolside and threw it out of the water. He then began to scrub himself down.
Hauling himself out of the water, he sat down with his feet kicking around in the water. Samuel would try to swim every day; it was an excellent full-body workout.
“What to do?” Samuel said, emphasising each word getting dressed would be a good start.
Getting up, he noticed the items he had dumped yesterday. Grabbing his blanket and inspecting it again, it did need a wash. Several food stains covered it, so he returned to the pool and scrubbed the fabric as vigorously as possible. The water quickly took most of the dirt out.
“Was there anything this pool could not do?” Samuel was beginning to suspect that there was something strange about this water.
The healing of his hand had sped up after his bath; it removed stains from clothes; maybe it had also been crafted like the cavern. He could not prove it; it might be just a coincidence. It was just another strange occurrence in this place.
Taking the blanket and himself into the corridor to dry off, he felt hungry.
“Should I have apples or fish for breakfast?” Samuel mused to himself both were delicious and had their unique charms. Apples, he concluded. He remembered the apple he had knocked down yesterday.
Samuel glanced inside; it was not near his bed or the knife and pouch. He must have dropped it at some point, most likely when he had felt so depressed. No matter; he would have to go out and get another.
When he was at last dry, he dressed himself.
“I should wash my clothes when I get back,” he said, picking up his knife, the piece of flint he had put down the other day, and the pouch. He discovered that the pouch had a few leather strands coming off it, tied in a tight knot. Using the point of his knife, he cut a small hole in his trousers waist. He undid the knot on the pouch and threaded it through, tying it tight.
Feeling ready to take on the outside world, he walked down the corridor; as Samuel approached the slab, he noticed that weak sunlight was pouring through. In his depression, he had forgotten to replace it.
“Shit,” he hissed, livid with himself, “what if someone had come along and found it?”
He could be dead right now. Walking up the steps and moving the slab back in place, his old fire caught his eye. Samuel began to wonder what roasted apples would be like; he would have to collect more tinder and firewood while out.
Turning right, he decided to jog to the tree rather than walk, so Samuel set off to find his breakfast. Keeping a steady pace, breathing deeply, his pouch slapping against his side, Samuel could already feel his efforts paying off. He could go further and harder than ever before. Samuel was proud but knew there was still a long way to go.
To his left, he spotted the unmistakable sight of silver birch, its white bark breaking up the repetitiveness of brown and green. Samuel stopped to fill his pouch with as much tinder as it could hold and continued his morning jog. Quicker than he expected, he reached the apple tree; his breathing was surprisingly lax considering all the effort he had put in, though he doubted a professional would have a drop of sweat.
Samuel found the low-hanging branch and once again tried to climb it. He jumped, his hands grasping the bark, its rough texture digging into his hands.
With all of his strength, he attempted to haul himself up. It was tough, but he pulled himself a little higher every second. When his chin was level with the branch, he swung his leg over it, just as he had done with the ledge in the cave. With hindsight, he probably should have practised in there, but it was too late to do that now. Panting, he sat on the branch; it was uncomfortable, and his face was red, but he had done it.
Now came the tricky part; Samuel took a look down and was immediately struck with a sense of vertigo. He was about two metres off the ground, but his head spun slightly, and he grasped the branch tightly. Samuel sat in the tree for several minutes, rubbing his finger as he breathed slowly and deeply to regain his composure.
“I hate heights,” he mumbled to himself, but he could not let it stop him, not in this place, and so ever so carefully, Samuel turned himself around to face the trunk and gently slid himself over the bark. When he reached his goal, he placed one of his feet on the branch and, holding onto the trunk, lifted himself onto his feet.
His vertigo came flooding back even worse than before. He held on tight and breathed just as he had done the last time; he needed to beat this. As the spinning sensation slowed, he saw several bright, plump fruit handing just within reach.
Stretching his left hand, his fingers gently tickled the apple; Samuel leaned out a little further to get a firm grip. His hands closed around it, and he pulled down hard. The fruit released its grip on the tree and hit the ground with a satisfying thud.
“I did it,” Samuel applauded himself. However, he was not entirely pleased just yet. Reaching for another apple, he pulled a second, and then a third came down.
Deciding that that was enough for now, Samuel began the tricky business of getting down. His first idea was to sit back down and hang off, so he only had to drop a few centimetres. Yet Samuel wanted to beat his problem, not push it to one side, so he jumped down with his body, telling him to do anything but.
To be more accurate, he tried to, but his legs froze up, and he just stood there.
“Come on, Samuel, you have jumped from higher places than this,” he told himself.
This was true, but he had angry villagers and dogs to motivate him at that time. The panic made his legs shake and his vision blur; if he did not jump, he would fall.
Dredging up every ounce of courage, Samuel finally jumped from the branch. It was a shortfall, but that did not prevent the massive surge of adrenaline from pumping through his veins. Samuel's heart felt as though it had leapt into his mouth. As his feet hit the floor, he felt a massive force of the impact surge through his body. His legs bent under the pressure, and he fell backwards.
As the panic began to subside, Samuel raised his head and realised he was still on his back. He had almost fainted from the ordeal, but he had succeeded. Samuel had beaten his fear, for now. Samuel relaxed his neck and let his head lie on the floor. He giggled as the hormones wore off, and Samuel slowly pulled himself to his feet.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Standing tall, savouring his victory, Samuel knew that this would seem like a small, insignificant thing to another, but to him, it was one of the great triumphs of his life. Picking up his well-deserved reward, he stood tall. His now arms full of fruit, Samuel walked home.
The trip took some time, but it was not even midday. Samuel placed his breakfast on a large, wide stone inside the extension and then walked back to the forest edge to look for more firewood. It did not take him long to gather up an armful of wood, and carrying it back, he let it fall beside the food.
He removed a handful of tinder from his pouch and placed it on the floor. Next, he took the flint from his pocket, pointing the flint towards the bark. He placed his knife on the flint, edge pointed down and rapidly scraped along the stone. A shower of bright yellow sparks erupted from the blade as they hit the tinder; it immediately began to smoulder, striking the flint twice and blowing gently on the embers until they turned into flames.
Samuel’s attention turned towards his breakfast when the fire was roaring.
“Now, how am I going to do this?” he asked himself. He could just run a stick through and try to cook it whole, but he would probably end up burning it. He placed the knife over the flames to sterilize it. To ensure he did not ruin the whole thing, Samuel cut two segments out of one of the apples and put a stick through one of them; he positioned it above the fire while he ate the second piece right there and then.
The fresh apple wedge was as good as yesterday, cool and crisp. As a beautiful smell of burning sugar entered his nose, Samuel removed the apple from over the fire; he blew on it and took a bite, and it was just as magical as he had imagined.
The apple was much sweeter now; it was almost like golden syrup. After eating two apples, Samuel began to feel a little sick.
“Too much sugar, I suppose,” Samuel stated the obvious.
Standing up, Samuel kicked ash from the previous fire into the current one. As the flames died, he pocketed the flint and picked up the remaining apple. Moving the slab, he walked down into the corridor.
Reaching the cavern, Samuel grasped for something to do. He had a lot of free time, a bath, washing up, looking for breakfast, overcoming his fear, eating his meal, and it was not even noon. He was going to wash his clothes, but what after that?
“Is this what every day is going to be like?” Samuel thought.
Picking up his blanket, it had dried nicely, and a faint scent emanated from it; he could not put his finger on what it was, but it was pleasant.
Samuel placed it, his knife and apple, down by his bed; the distinctive smell of rotting vegetable matter was coming from it, and he would have to replace it soon.
Strolling to the pool, Samuel removed his hoodie and shirt, they were heavy with sweat and dirt and proceeded to wash them with as much energy as he had put into his blanket.
As he knelt, scrubbing away with all his might, Samuel gained a new appreciation for his mum and all the work she had put in. He also felt a fresh bout of guilt for rubbing jam and chocolate sauce between her bed sheets.
After their scrub, he took them to the corridor.
“Might as well name it,” mused Samuel. “The dry room?” he asked himself.
Yes, that was good enough; he could always rename it. Placing his clothes in the newly christened dry room, Samuel glanced at the diving board.
“I should jump off that,” he suggested to himself. He had bested his fear earlier today but had not banished it entirely, so Samuel reasoned that if he could dive off that board without any fear or hesitation, he could dismiss it forever. Plus, it would give him something to do while his clothes dried. Samuel removed his trainers and socks, removed everything from his pockets, positioned them neatly on the floor, and began to climb the ledges.
Clambering over the rocks was an exciting experience, helped by the fact that, unlike last time, he was not in horrible pain; the ledges on the same row varied in height for no apparent reason, probably some design choice made by an architect who had never climbed anything in his life, though each row behind the last was always taller.
Samuel was travelling in the most challenging direction he could find, and although his legs were still fine, his arms and back were beginning to feel the strain.
The final kick in the teeth was that he was not even a quarter of the way up. Samuel persevered, and slightly out of breath, he reached the back of the diving board. Samuel was relatively high up now; he could make out the faint outlines of the glow worms over three-quarters of the way to the ceiling. Carefully walking toward the edge, determined not to slip, he peered over the edge.
The pool lay directly beneath him; gentle wafts of steam slightly obscured the water. Looking down, he saw that the pool was much larger than he had thought, bigger than even an Olympic-sized pool.
The familiar sense of disorientation started to overtake him, and Samuel took a step back. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Samuel rubbed his finger and tried to psyche himself up for the plunge. He told himself that he could do it, that he needed to. It made little difference; however, the sense of dread would not leave him.
Samuel hopped from one foot to the next, clapping his hands together. Samuel just decided to go for it. Taking a deep breath and one massive leap off the edge, he plummeted into the warm water. He hit the water in a semi-cannonball while the fish got the grandest shock of their lives as a five-foot-eleven-inch lump of pink meat exploded into their world.
As he slowed down, Samuel uncoiled himself and began to surface. When the fresh gulp of air hit his lungs, combined with the rush of the fall, he was almost euphoric.
“At this rate, I might become an adrenaline junkie,” Samuel speculated.
Taking the time to enjoy a quick swim, Samuel exited the water, shaking himself like a wet dog, content with his accomplishment. Drying off and getting dressed, he moved on to the next task, replacing his bedding. It was not glamorous, but it needed doing.
Wanting only to make one trip, Samuel dressed, gathered as much vegetation as possible, and walked down the dry room.
In the open air, Samuel dumped the dead leaves and grasses a fair distance from the entrance and then started picking up some fresh bedding. It was a laborious process; he had picked up almost all of the fallen leaves during his last scrounge, but it still did not take long to find enough to ensure a comfortable night.
Taking his haul back to the cavern and laying out in the same place as before, Samuel placed the blanket over the plant matter, giving it two quick pats; Samuel took a few steps back.
“This is ridiculous. I have done everything I planned, and it isn’t even dinner time,” Samuel said in disbelief. He began to wonder how all those tribespeople worldwide spend their free time.
His mind began to drag up memories of some old nature documentaries he had watched while going through a hippy phase. They had hunted and gathered; they migrated, which was not an option for Samuel. They made things, weapons, clothes and pieces of art.
“Well, I guess everyone needs a hobby,” he said. Samuel had a knife and plenty of wood outside, so with a shrug, Samuel went out.
On the forest's edge, Samuel picked up as many different-sized and shaped pieces of wood as he could find and brought them back to the extension. Sitting just outside the mouth with his back leaning on a rock, he selected a small twig, brought his knife, and began carving. He was not particularly interested, but it gave him something to do.
His cuts took more and more wood off. The blade's dull edge forced him to tear more than shave until he had shaped it down to a fine point; it was thin and very short.
“A needle,” he said with unmistakable disinterest. As time passed, Samuel continued to whittle; most ended in failure and threw them away, but by the end, he had carved a simple fish hook and a rather lousy replica of his knife.
Samuel picked up the largest piece of wood he had gathered and tried to think of what to make next. Then, the image of that lamia child flashed across his mind. Taking his knife, he tried his best to carve an effigy of the little snake girl.
As he sat there, cutting tiny flecks of wood, Samuel tried to think why he was fond of that little girl. She was interesting; she was a half snake, but the weresheep and the insect boy were no less biological marvels. No, Samuel believed she was the only person he had met since coming here who had shown him any kindness whatsoever, even if it was only for a moment.
Then, the memory of the other day came into view. Samuel was confident that she had been looking for him. He could not be certain, but her attitude at the time did not seem like she had wanted to kill him. Maybe she wanted answers as well.
The wood began to take on a serpentine shape; the tail had a few curves, and the human part was much more complex, with a round knob for a head and two twigs jutting out at ninety-degree angles; it was rather pathetic. He suddenly became aware of the deep orange light surrounding him; the sun was setting, Samuel was surprised that he had been working on his sculpture for hours.
Samuel put the figurine in his pocket and said, "I am going back!”
Tomorrow, after breakfast, he would visit the village once more. Samuel knew the risks involved, but they did not bother him; pocketing his other masterpieces, he got to his feet, walked down the dry room, and entered the cavern. Samuel scooped up the apple and lay down on his bed. Taking in mouthfuls of the sweet fruit, he considered his approach.
Samuel was sure he could find it again, even without his little guide, but what would he do when he arrived? Observe was the first thing that came to mind; try to understand them; what drove them? What did they value? What did they despise?
Samuel, obviously, but what else? He would stick to the trees to ensure no one saw him; he did not need a repeat performance.
His supper was now completely gone, and he lay on his side. The blanket was soft and pleasant against his skin; the fabric made him feel secure, and not long before he was asleep.