Once upon a time there was a little boy. He had found a little dirt cave, all his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t like others, he just needed a secret. Every day when no one was watching, he would run to his secret place.
At first just being there was enough. He liked to be alone with his thoughts, his feelings…it was nice with no big sisters to bother him, and no one asking him questions or wanting him to do stuff. He grew to like the silence. To want it.
As time went on though, he became bored with his tiny space and he started digging out the walls to make it bigger. It wasn’t that hard to do. The dirt was soft. It got into his fingernails though, and that part was hard to scrub out, but with time he became used to the dirt. It stopped bothering him.
The hole did bother him though. He had made it bigger, but it still seemed to make him feel cramped. He realized that maybe if he cleared out a little more, it would feel alright, so he scraped the walls and clawed the dirt away.
Each day he still went home when playtime was over. He was a good boy. Just a little dirty and a little tired after all his digging. His sister stopped bothering him so much. She said that he was mean, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to leave him alone. His mom and dad wished he would stop getting so messy, but he tried to get clean. At least clean enough so they wouldn’t be mad.
Then he would wait. Wait and think about his secret. He thought about it a lot. When he was at school he wished he could go there. When he was helping his mom in the garden, he thought about how the dirt from the cave felt under his fingers. Sometimes he wondered if he should try finding a new hole. The one he had, was starting to get more comfortable though, in a still cramped way.
One day he went to the cave after school. He thought it was looking big. Maybe big enough, but if he added just a little more space…so, he dug. He clawed at the dirt on the walls, and he clawed at the dirt he could still reach on the ceiling. He felt a little fall down on him, but he didn’t mind. He was too focussed on digging.
While he was digging at the ceiling near the door, some of the dirt from the back started falling down. It happened quickly, but the boy didn’t notice until clumps of dirt started breaking off in his fingers and he was struggling to breathe. Everything around him had caved in. His head and arm had been near the entrance to the cave, so he could see the sky and he could move his arm. He gasped for air as the pressure squeezed him. He closed his eyes…and he started digging…
Holy crap- did he get out??
I don’t know. I hope so…
I can’t help thinking that this is a nice metaphor for how we all long for a special, safe place emotionally… until the cave in. Now I am sure of it.
This is great stuff.
Thanks! In theory it could be about a lot of different things, but I like your idea better than a few of mine.
It all comes crashing down in the end…
You would think we would see it, but we’re too busy digging.
Except that some of us are just moving the dirt around. And some of us have a goal and some of us don’t. And most of us have no idea why we are digging in the first place.
Yep. It usually seems like a good idea when you start.
Caves are so cosy…
Yep, makes you not want to leave. Even when you realize it is killing you.
Humans lived in caves for a lot longer than we have lived in houses.
Good point!
Release the inner cave person.
Already did. It would have been better to have a cave in.
Cave people can have both.
At least I can see the light though. Hey, cave people are pretty good artists!
Hello. They invented art.
That might have been God…sunsets and all. Cave people are pretty amazing in some ways though. I think most artists have a “cave” personality, or develop “cave” habits of one form or another.
Troglodites.
Sounds like an addict to me. Starts off soothing the emotions then it overtakes the person….
I felt the same way. An obsession with digging your own grave.
I’m going to repost this to my sexual addiction recovery blog. It is an excellent write-up!!!
That is fine. Thank you. Sometimes it helps to talk story instead of reality. I hope your group enjoys it.
More! Please to be wriing more!!
Just for you I will… 😉
So preoccupied with his cave that everything else became unimportant…even the people who surrounded him….to his own detriment in the end..great story….Diane
Thanks Diane! Great summary too!
This is a great story! I can’t wait to read more of it…
Thanks!
It’s like he’s so insistent on this one thing, so focused on his ritual of digging, and he becomes so obsessed with it that nothing else matters and it is the end of him. Though I’d like to think he gets out and moves on with his life.
I’d like to think that too.
Damn Hobs – no, I’m not mad at you, LOL – but gee . . . (shudders and laughs at the same time: it’s all over guys! – reassuring my young kids). But I loved it: the symbology of him always digging. And yeah I knew it would fall in. Had a big fear about that. But makes a damn good story all the same.
If you want to read about mine and what happened . . . here’s one of two:
http://wp.me/p1Cdyu-2r
It’s the scariest one because it’s a lot like yours! My ‘inner kids’ were all agog like little popeyed campers sitting around a campfire listening to a really cool ghost story – which is good, btw – more entertaining that frightening. 🙂 I think you’ll like it because it’s a lot like yours.
Have fun – glad to see you are writing (and so creatively as well!) Very good for you, girl.
Thanks Jeff. I’ve been writing a lot lately. 😉
Compelling stuff. Can’t wait to read more of your works. 🙂
Thank you! I checked out your blog too, and I love what you’re doing.