Cave Series 1: Open Sesame!

I am in a cave. It is pitch black. There is no light. A soft phosphorescence sometimes appears, maybe from the walls, maybe it’s my eyes, I don’t know. They come in soft green, blurry white, royal purple, silvery pink. But they come and go. It’s no use reaching out to them, they disappear. And it’s difficult to know whether you’re reaching out to them or they’re running towards you. It’s too dark.

Calm inside, no sweat, no heat. It’s not cold either. Except for the chill of being chained inside. Well, not literally chained, but certainly trapped in the darkness. I stand up straight, or imagine I do. I shout at the top of my lungs. “Open, Sesame!” The sound deafens me as it bounces off the rocks, the walls, hooting along into every corner and down passageways and coming back again and again. My head echoes. My ears ring. The wait is long. I don’t know which way to shout. There must be a crack somewhere that will open up with these cries.

I then bow down to the floor, and the last vestiges of breath are forced out. I am empty. I cry silently for light to come. I crack my forehead on the hard floor. I say please. I remain crouched like an animal at bay. I say please again. This is my last breath, for sure. There can be no more. Breathing will stop. All will be gone. One more please. Is it over?

It is not over. Air comes rushing in again, a fury of air. It is my first screaming breath. I am a baby again. To make room in my lungs, I stand up, and I repeat the shout once more. I am alive! “Open, Sesame!” And on and on it goes, and I lose track of time. I lose track. I am in a cave. It is pitch black. And there is no light yet. But I shout and shout again, and say please.