hole VI
Fatigue had overcome him. Unending darkness designated is lethargy as his only marker of time. He no longer searched for…what? Why had he stuck his arm back down the rabbit hole? What rabbit? Her rabbit? Slick, sand papered sinew coiled itself around his buried arm and pulled. He braced himself with…nothing.
His arm. He had to get his arm.
Just as he was sure his arm was going to be pulled from its socket like a turkey leg, the earth surrounding his upper arm and shoulder gave way, first in clumps, then completely. He braced his eyes against the onslaught of light, which left him unprepared for the free fall. The shallow hole had become a deep, underground cave. The water he had submerged his hands into had receded and was evidenced only by the sound of it lapping against the rock walls at the unseen sides, the sound of wet skin on skin, warped into his sister’s pleading and confused sobs…flashes of her bleeding on the stark white of their family’s bathroom floor, him holding his bloodied arm.
The stygian abyss bit through the stark white and swallowed him whole.
hole V
Head weighed to the ground, unable to move, he sees a figure move toward him from beyond his property. Skulking and low to the ground, the being moved warily; its head constantly moving and jolting up, maneuvering its ears and sniffing the air toward him. Bored with its lack of progression and still unable to make out what it was, he closed his eyes. When he opened them seconds later, his face was filled with dirty and putrid hair. The thing’s face dug into the earth that had entrenched his arm and shoulder.
Jagged teeth tore into his upper arm, tearing away the flesh.The thing shifted to get more meat; after dirty blue and white frills wafted across his line of site, all he could see was a tattered stuffed rabbit with chewed and flayed floppy ears.
It stared at him with mournful eyes.
The beast chewed him free, and bolts off taking the stuffed rabbit in its teeth; his arm falls in and disappears. A great and blinding light beamed up from the hole. Feeling the heat on his face and where his right arm had been attached, he fell back in awe, covering his eyes with his remaining arm, reminding him he needed to retrieve its cohort.
His left arm, not needing permission, dove into the hole…
Buried to the hilt.
Beyond the tree line, he heard a guttural snicker.
hole IV
He tugged and pulled, but could not gain enough purchase to free himself from the hole. The pain was maddening. His mind went haywire, picturing the flesh from his hand and forearm peeling away and absorbed into the earthy soup.
He couldn’t pull out and continued to dig into the earth. More frantic, he started further away from the hole and dug toward it. The earth still regenerated itself, engulfing his shoulder. Soon, it would mound up and ensconce his head; he could already feel a plug of mud in his right ear.
The boiling abruptly stopped, the air went catacomb-cold instantly and all fell silent. There was no evidence that his ears even had the capacity to take in sound.
Faint crying drifted into his exposed ear; an infant’s choking cry, a child’s cry of pain, then a man’s sobbing.
Choked at first, the crying cleaved the silence. Within seconds, it became so loud he could not stifle it with his arm covering his ear. Cramming mud into his ear lessened it, but his head soon ached.
His mouth hung open in a silent scream.
hole-III
He frantically dug at the earth that was squeezing his arm, but it was futile. The mud he displaced was merely refreshed anew, its grip even tighter.
Again, he laughed at his fear. The audacity of his fear…he chastised himself for giving into what he had long since declared to be unacceptable. Memories of his belongings strewn throughout his front yard, those who would soon pay laughing at him as they drove or walked by.
Resting his face in the damp grass and leaves, he breathed in and out, slowly, over and over again.
He slowly wiggled his had back and forth in the unseen muck below, which seemed to be all that existed in this dark cavity in his yard’s underground. He pushed into the hole, jarring his shoulder in by treading on the wet turf with his feet. His hand merely sloshed, stirring bits of earth and root.
He had to find it. He must.
Without it he would be useless. He would remain under their collective thumb and attain no greater level in life than that of ‘ineffectual pissant.’
As he calmed himself, the murk below grew warm and then hot to the touch. He tried to remove his hand, but the earth sucking on his arm would not relent.
Feeling returned to his arm as the water began to boil.
hole II
hole-II
His hand spasmed as he tried to shake the sludge from his forearm; his traitorous mind had shown him tiny serpents traversing up his arm, but quickly reminded him why he was digging. When he dug up his treasure…his 
prize… and unleashed it unto the world, these moments of minor discomfort and childish fear would certainly be worth it.
For once, he would hold sway over his persecutors.
“Bastard,” the man hissed at his mischievous imagination. All too often he let his mind run astray, theorizing over and playing out instances or confrontations, disintegrating his self-esteem. Raised to believe what others taught him and had filtered into his brain, it was all too easy to fall back in step with his spineless past actions.
The hand that was supporting him and his legs trembled and shook. He laid down on the wet, cold earth, totally submerging his arm to its pit.
The earth squeezed, sucking him in further.
hole
hole-I
The man rolled up his flannel sleeve, knelt in the damp grass and reached into the hole. He rooted around; grimacing, he shoved the rest of his beefy forearm in until it disappeared, submerging his hand into sludge and sticks. Looking up and to the right, he tried to picture the terrain in which his hand was searching; he appeared to be deep in thought, complete with his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth. He sprawled close to the ground and ducked his head as a truck gunned its engine through the parking lot off his back yard, throwing the light from its headlights as well as dust and gravel in his direction. The man raised his head, wary of more headlights. Had there been more, he would disband his endeavors for the night. Not worth the risk
The man was the only one who knew this hole was here. It was in the middle of the yard under two feet of earth, then landscaping brick from a long-forgotten garden or compost heap. Not sure if the previous owner knew about it, but he was dead and probably didn’t care. This was the ideal spot for his…
The man stopped cold.
The Brain of hawkdad73 