Below the Bayou - A Short Story

Frank groaned as he slowly regained consciousness.  Opening his eyes as his senses awakened, he took in his surroundings:  darkness, a single bulb hanging high above his head, and humid - oh so humid.  He shakily stood up and realized he had been sitting in a puddle of water.

His eyes widened slightly to drink in every speck of light and he looked around.  Then he heard it.  The unmistakable sound of flowing water.  He followed the sound and found water seeping through the dirt walls, flowing onto the ground.  Looking down, he realized it wasn’t a puddle he was sitting in – water was covering the floor.

He frantically spun around, looking for an exit.  There was no door in sight, but he found stairs on the other side of the room.  He dashed over and started to climb them.  They seemed to lead nowhere but the ceiling.  Once at the top, he pushed against the ceiling, expecting a door to open.  If there was a door there in the darkness, it wouldn’t budge.

He screamed in frustration as he walked down.  Suddenly, the wood gave out from under him and he fell through the hole and to the floor.  He cursed out loud and tried to stand up, body screaming in protest.  His legs wouldn’t cooperate.  Both broken.  He screamed again, this time for help. 

No one came.

He realized there was more water flowing now.  He dragged himself to the bottom of the stairs, debating trying to climb them again as the water was slowly rising.  He couldn’t stay on the ground, so what choice did he have?  Dragging himself up the stairs, he stopped where he fell through.  Realizing what a stupid idea it was, he stopped and leaned against the wall, breath coming out in ragged gasps. 

The water was to the second step now.  His body was in agony and he frantically searched for a way out.  The water had to be coming in from somewhere, so maybe he could get out that way?

“Stupid!” he said aloud.  “It’s Louisiana you dumbass.  We aren’t supposed to have basements or underground rooms!”  This is what happens, he thought. 

Third step.

The water was rushing in now.  Panicked, he leaned his head back against the wall and tried to calm himself.

Fourth step. 

Fifth step.

He was going to die here. 

Sixth step.

A thousand memories flashed through his mind in a second.

Seventh step.

The water lapped at his useless legs now.  There was nowhere else for him to go but up and even up didn’t seem like it would do any good. 

Eighth step.

The water was to his pelvis now.

Ninth step. 

Up to his chest.  It was cold like it had just come from the fridge.  His teeth chattered as his mind raced.  His eyes landed on the bulb and his heart dropped.  What happens when the water reaches it?  Will it send electric currents through the water?  Would he drown or would he – the wood he was sitting on gave out and he fell into the water. 

Struggling to keep his head above water with his broken legs, terror flooded his veins like ice.  He started gasping, but with the rising water, he was able to pull himself up on the wood above where he had fallen through.  No sooner had he gotten up there, the light went out.

He was alone in darkness with rising water.  He was almost to the ceiling so decided to push on it some more.  If there were stairs there had to be a door.  Feeling the water up to his shoulders now, he gave one final shove and felt something give a little.  He thought he heard something move above so screamed for help.

Suddenly light appeared in a rectangle on the ceiling – almost as if something had been covering the door.  He shoved at it again, but it didn’t move.  He screamed for help again and heard the clank of metal.  Thinking this was his way out he smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.  “Down here!” he screamed, banging on the door. 

Just as the light appeared it left as the sound of something heavy being dragged resonated throughout the small space.  “No!” he cried.

The water was up to his neck now. 

With all his strength he shoved against the door, beating against it until he was gasping for breath.  He realized he was using what little oxygen he had too quickly.  Unable to keep himself from hyperventilating, he started getting water into his mouth. 

Pressing his face against the ceiling, he held on as long as he could, still beating and scratching against the door.  Water filled his ears and slowly started to seep into his open mouth.  He spit it out and shut his mouth, trying to control his breathing through his nose.  Soon his mouth was fully under and it started to get into his nose.  He resisted the urge to cough and focused on keeping as still as possible. 

Water started to flow into his nose as he inhaled, causing him to cough, only when he did so, he gasped in a mouthful of water.  Realizing this was the end, he flailed, his arms beating against the door as his lungs fully filled with water. 

His body went limp.

Suddenly the rectangle of light appeared again.  The sound of metal grating could be heard and the doors finally opened.  Water was just about to spill over the edge when a squeak echoed throughout the area.  The water stopped flowing. 

Frank’s motionless body lay face down at the top of the steps, just inches away from freedom.  The doors shut again, sealing Frank and all his dirty deeds in the darkness.