The Fountain

Shakily, the fingers held to the edge. A giant cookie cutter could not have stamped out a more perfect circle than this hole in the ground. In only a moment of time, what was solid ground was now a wide and dark pit. The fingers were becoming fatigued, and the feet dangled in the blackness, and the settling dust filled the lungs, and there was no bottom in sight. Walter Springer coughed out some of the dust and muttered, "I couldn't have picked a worst time to sweep." He tried to call out the name Anne, but that only resulted in a hacking cough. Bordering the edge of the hole was four walls and a wooden stair way leading up into the house. Now the basement had… a basement, it seemed.

Walter said to himself, "I suppose this is fitting. I've been clinging over nothing for some time now." He even managed a small laugh, "I want to be surprised," and he coughed, "but I have felt as though the bottom has fallen out since we moved to this retirement community." He strained to pull up, but could not, ending in a hacking wheeze. "Don't have the strength to pull up. Don't want to just let go, either. Stuck - (cough, cough) - Just stuck in misery."

Laughing and choking a bit more, Walter could remember a time when he would have been prepared for the ground falling from beneath him. He couldn't believe with his expertise in life that he was now in this predicament. He could only shake his head in dismay. Walter closed his eyes, something he always did when under stress, even though he was submerged in darkness. He then said out loud, "I can recall a time when this would have thrilled the hound out of me."

Walter had been in caverns dug by man and naturally, searching and digging for decades, unearthing secrets. So much time he had spent beneath the ground, mesmerized and compelled to it. Now it seemed what he had loved the entirety of his life had sneaked up on him and was trying to kill him. Walter couldn't decide if that was irony or comedy.

At last, Walter was able to take a deep breath. There was less dust clouding the air. "I can do better than this. I know better than this." A renewed strength and determination rippled through Walter's grasping digits. "I haven't forgotten all I know, and I know there is a way out of this other than just brute strength. I didn't learn all I have learned to die from this."

Walter thought about calling for Anne again, but a more clear mind considered the danger she could be placed in coming down the steps into a cellar with no floor. It would take little less than a slight stumble coming down the steps and she would spill into the dark pit. Of course, Anne's health issues made this scenario all the more plausible.

Walter could not feel a foothold, but he knew this was typical of a sink hole. Instead of moving his foot forward, he slowly swept his right foot to the left. It tapped something, and there was hope. Slowly he repeated the move, a bit larger sweep, and he found a foothold. Firmly he began to walk his fingers to the left along the broken basement floor until his body was straight vertical again. Each pass gave Walter a higher step, and such he made a slow ascension along the lip of the hole. After finally gaining enough height he easily crawled back up to the basement floor.

"Free, in a manner of speaking," he said as caught his breath.

Anne Springer's mouth was open almost as largely as the gaping hole she was observing in the basement floor. She considered wiping her glasses, just in case it were some sort of crazy illusion of shadows. She scratched a finger in her grey hair and said, "Walter, how can this be? I didn't hear or feel anything up in the house."

Walter was gnawing on his lower lip, something he would do when anxious or excited, "It's a sink hole, sweetheart . It almost got me. We do live in Florida, now. No other area in the United States has more sink holes than Florida."

"So, we have to call the main office and have them arrange a new home for us," said Anne.

"What in the world for?" asked Walter.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep at night, Walter. What if this entire how is swallowed up by that thing?"

"Ah," Walter waved a casual palm, "Unlikely that thing will get any bigger. It's done it's thing."

"Walter, you can't be serious. We pay this community to live in a good, and let me emphasize this next word, SAFE home. I'm going to call Sheila."

"No!" Walter said, "We'll be fine. Let's stay here."

Anne gasped, "Walter Springer, you are not going down in that hole. You are retired. We both are. I did not make it this far with you to have you fall and die in some sink hole in the basement of our retirement house."

Walter snapped, "So, is that what you think of me now? I can't perform any longer? Washed up?"

"I didn't say that, Walter. You are, and always be a brilliant archeologist. You still have plenty of knowledge to share through counseling and writing. But you aren't a young man anymore. I am not a young woman, either. I remember how many close calls you had climbing down in places like this, and that was when you were in peak condition. You haven't done anything like that in years."

"I'll be careful, Anne."

"No, Walter. I mean it. I am calling Sheila and we are relocating."

"Anne, you're over reacting a bit. It's settled. It's just a hole now. I can climb down in it and right back out, with a ladder. I know my Indiana Jones days are over."

Anne pierced her brown eyes, "Walter Springer, you have always had a hard time closing that chapter in your life. We are supposed to be moving forward in a new direction."

Walter laughed sarcastically, "Moving forward, at this time in our lives? We aren't moving forward. We're just sitting and waiting."

Anne began to tear up, "You don't have to tell me anything about sitting and waiting."

Walter realized what his words could have implied, and he apologized, "I'm sorry Anne. I didn't mean it that way. You know I would never…"

She sniffed, "I know."

"I'm just a big mouthed old fool. Have you heard anything back from the tests yet?"

"No. Not yet. I've been in remission now four years, and the doctors believe the dizzy spells aren't related. We just won't know until the tests return."

"Sweetie, I am sure it's all going to be alright. You always were a bit dizzy if you ask me."

She laughed through her tears and said, "I had to be dizzy to marry you."

"I'll tell you what, let me check it out. I won't go in if it is too deep, or if it looks dangerous. I just want to go down and take a fast look. It won't take me long. After that, you can call Sheila and we will relocate."

Anne said, "You better not get hurt."

"Scouts honor," Walter said while doing the childhood salute.

A twenty foot step ladder was enough to touch bottom of the pit. The measured diameter of the hole was thirty feet. Walter stepped off the ladder in the bottom of the sink hole wielding a large flashlight. In all places he shined the light, he found exactly what he expected to, layers upon layers of eroded limestone. This was until he shined the light on what he at first though was a dark shadow of sediment and was revealed to be an opening large only enough for a large dog or a man to crawl through.

"Perhaps I was wrong," he said. "Maybe this hole isn't finished dropping, that certainly looks like another hollow area forming." Walter squat down and shined a light through the small opening. Reflections flickered about the side of the opening, and Walter found this odd. The limestone he was now in was dull, and absorbed the light flatly. Whatever was on the other side of the small passage suggested, at least to Walter, to have an entirely different composition.

He remembered his promise to his wife, only one look and he would be out; but the one look was not defined to be restrained to this one radius. With haste, he crawled through. On the other side was a pool of water, and he could hear it churning. This was not very surprising. He supposed the underwater spring had been slightly acidic and was probably what had eroded the limestone causing the sinkhole.

The churning though was a bit louder than what would be a trickling channel of water, it sounded more like a water fall. He traced the water along it's parameter and found it to be only a pool which was supplied by a fountain of water flowing from a stone orifice in the far stone wall. The stone spout had a very symmetrical stone at its head, almost too symmetrical to be organic. This, Walter knew all too well; it had been his life's work. "It's man made," he said, amazed. The head stone appeared to have something inscribed, but at this distance, and Walter could not make the writing out. The light was not strong enough.

Walter squinted his eyes and held the flashlight out at arms length in order to get a read. He was a bit awkward as he leaned forward, and his body lost some balance. In order to catch himself, he dropped the light and it splashed into the pool of water. The depth of the pool was only at arms length, it appeared, as the water proof light glowed on bottom. What amazed Walter more was the floor of the pool was sets of tiled stone.

Walter felt a euphoric rush tingle every square inch of his skin. It was a find. He could remember his first find, and the emotion swelling in him now felt very much the same. It was a rekindling of a love affair he had thought was well gone. He reached down in the water to grab his light and noticed a sudden darkness on the back of his arm. He quickly withdrew his arm. Walter rubbed the back of his arm to make sure there was no slimy ooze or fungus attached to it, and then slowly slid his arm back in. He watched carefully. What was the dark substance on the back of his arm? He rolled his arm to and fro, and noticed the dark substance swayed like human hair; dark, thick, human hair. He had not seen the sway of that hair since he was a middle aged man.

The amazement instantly flipped to fear as Walter considered the fact there could be some sort of fumes in the cavern causing him to hallucinate. This could be a sign of poisoning, he thought. With a gasp, he jerked his arm out and turned quickly on his haunches, leaving the light behind. He remembered the small tunneling to be right in front of him, and he could make out the darker proximity of it. Scuffling on his hands and knees, he shot forward, smacking his head on the stone. Reeling backward in pain, Walter fell into the pool of water.

Gasping, he popped his head out of the water, and when he opened his eyes he was no longer beneath the ground in the dark. The sun was shining intensely down on him, and he was surrounded by lush forage and palms. Walter turned and saw the fountain spout, which now he could read. It was written in Mayan, and looked as though it had been freshly carved. Walter read it aloud, "Waters of Life."

His foot hit the flashlight, and Walter leaned down to retrieve it. What he saw took his breath more than the cool waters he had fallen into; the reflection was that of a Walter Springer at least thirty years younger. Walter murmured to himself, "The fountain of youth. This is the fountain of youth."

From above the forage could be heard the words of Rod Serling, "The quest for eternal youth is not a new one. Records go back thousands of years illustrating human kind's attempts, both scientific and magical, and of course those people did not find what they were looking for. Walter Springer, now, is the exception for this club of youth seekers. Walter Springer, a man who has built a life in finding meaning of things very old, but has no capacity to do so when it is he who has become old. Walter Springer, a daring man, who has jumped into the shallow end of the deep side… of the Twilight Zone."