Ironic Depths (2nd Place)

“I been in tighter scrapes than this ‘un,” The old codger cackled.

“We’re in a cave. Pitch black. No way to the surface. We've been wandering for hours. No telling how much time has passed. Our batteries are dead, and we have just a few matches. There could be a tornado hit outside and we’d never know it. What possible scrape could you have been in worse than this?” Jeff was incredulous.

“Listen, sonny. If ya wanna to give up, suit yerself. We just need ta improvise is all. We hadn’t been down ‘ere but half a day, I’d wager. I told ya I could navergate this here cave, and we will. Now hush. We’ve come ta where the cave-in happened. This is where we came in. I’d bet my best coon hound on it.”

The old man lit a match and climbed over the rubble, like a dog seeking its quarry. The match danced as he held it close to the left side, then it dwindled to darkness.

“Fresh air,” Jeff blurted as the hermit chortled. They dug with a newfound energy.

After several moments, the air flowed more freely. Water began to trickle into their newly dug hole. While they dug in the dark, they could feel the muck and grime with every handful. Finally, the opening was big enough to squeeze through. After a few hundred yards and several sharp turns they emerged from the cave.

The scene was devastating. Trees uprooted and twisted into grotesque shapes. Animal carcasses strewn about. Steadfast boulders were rolled around like marbles, and dark clouds hung in the sky off to the East moving away.

“I’ll be damned,” the wrinkled septuagenarian exclaimed, “there really was a tornader. Good thing we was in that cave.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah. I'll say.”


299 Words
Flash Story must contain: scrape, tornado, time

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