Short Story #3.

Once upon a time, a man fell into a hole.

It was a deep hole; dark, too. Exactly how deep and how dark it was in there, he had no idea - what did it matter, anyway? He was in the hole and couldn't get out: that was all he knew and that was all that mattered to him.

He had fallen flat on his face, and he lay that way for a long time. The fall had hurt him, and he feared that some of his bones had been broken. The man just remained still, face in the dirt, with a throbbing pain coursing through his body.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally gathered the strength to pick himself up. His whole body still hurt, but he had learned to live with it now. He tried moving his limbs - thankfully, they all appeared to be intact. Maybe things weren't as bad as he'd first thought.

The man looked around to view his surroundings. Everything was pitch black, however, so it wasn't much use. But at least he now knew how dark the hole was. He still had no idea how deep it was, though, as he couldn't even see the sky - night must had fallen while he was still on his face.

He tried to recall how he had fallen into the hole in the first place. The first thing he distinctly remembered was walking alone through the woods. He couldn't remember why, though - he'd hit his head and his memory hadn't yet returned to him. It would come back in due time, he figured.

The man wondered how he was to get out of this hole. Would anyone notice his disappearance? Was anyone out there looking for him? He didn't remember telling anyone that he was going out for a walk.

He held his arms out in front of him and slowly moved forward, reasoning that he would find a wall soon enough, enabling him to make out just how large the hole was. From there, he might just be able to find some way to escape it.

He'd walked no more than three steps when he felt his foot kick against something. He had no idea what it was, but it didn't feel like a rock. The man crouched to the ground and felt around for it. He hadn't kicked it that hard, so it couldn't have gotten too far.

Sure enough, his hand soon touched something that was unmistakeably metal. Smooth, cold metal. It wasn't very big or heavy, as he managed to wrap his fingers around it and pick it up with ease. What was it?

He brought his other hand towards the object to inspect it with more detail. A hollow cylinder...some kind of nozzle? A small hook...a trigger? Could he possibly be holding a gun in his hands?

It was at that moment that it all came back to him. He knew exactly why he had been walking alone through the woods. He knew exactly why there was a gun in the hole with him - and it wasn't just any gun, it was a revolver. Not just any revolver, either - it was his. And he knew for a fact that his revolver was carrying a single bullet - that was all it needed.

No one was going to come for him. No one cared enough for that. After all, if anyone did care, maybe he would have had help paying for his wife's surgery. Maybe she'd still be alive. Maybe he wouldn't have tracked down that insurance officer and beaten him to death.

He cocked the gun and put its barrel into his mouth. He gently placed his finger on the trigger. This was it. This was how he was going to die - by his own hand, his own gun, in this dark hole, with nobody to see it. Nobody would ever even know.

He suddenly saw something in the corner of his eye - a light? It was coming from above - was it sunlight?

No, it didn't look like sunlight. It was too small; perhaps it was a torchlight? If it really was a torchlight, then surely there was someone was on the end of it?

The man stared at the light - as well as he could, anyway, as it was hurting his eyes - and the light stared right back at him, with neither saying a word. He wasn't about to remove the gun from his mouth now, not when he'd gotten this far. The light didn't seem to make an effort to stop him, either.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the light vanished, and the man was in darkness once more. The gun was still in his mouth, his finger still on the trigger. His mind could not comprehend what had just happened. Had the light been some kind of sign? And if so, what did it mean? He was utterly confused.

The questions in the man's head, in the end, boiled down to the two words: what now?

Indeed - what now?