The Blue Hole

“The Blue Hole”

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2016 by Benjamin Mainville

  All rights reserved.

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  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First eBook Edition: January 2016

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  Also by Benjamin Mainville:

  Gate Change

  Scaring Lessons

  The Blue Hole

  a short story

  by

  Benjamin Mainville

  As droplets touched my face I allowed gravity to pull them down until they rolled off onto the rocky surface where I crouched. The hard limestone, worn over time creating small, concave pockets with sharp edges, felt rough against the soles of my feet. It was a silly thing, being afraid of a watering hole only twenty-nine meters across with full visibility, yet here I was- eyes widening at the thought of entering the clear, fresh water.

  When we first learned of the blue holes we marveled at the thought of seeing such a unique natural phenomenon. Formed during the ice ages in various parts of the world, both above and below sea level, these sink holes found themselves filled with water when the ice age ended. Ranging from one hundred to almost four hundred meters deep they are considered to be “vertical caves” and support little to no life due to their poor circulation. Looking at photos you might also experience the intrigue we felt. When opportunity arose to visit one first hand, we found ourselves in our golf cart rental driving toward what felt like nowhere.

  The cart bounced over the rough road, reminding me of the reason I kept my camera tucked securely in my bag. Literally holding on to my seat, I did my best to distract myself from Jordan’s driving by taking in the roadside scenery. It was not his fault but rather the combination of the worn asphalt with the fact that we were driving a golf cart on a road designed for actual cars. The constant honking of vehicles that came up behind us before passing was not a help to maintaining calm nerves. The last thing we needed was to find ourselves being pulled over but we felt the risk was minimal. After all, we were simply tourists exploring the island for the very first time and surely others had made similar excursions before.

  I was surprised by the amount of “For Sale” signs we passed belonging to houses tucked away deep in the thicket. Each one called my attention, reiterating the idea that a move to Bahamaland was indeed possible. But then again successful vacations have a way of working their way into your desire of not returning to the daily grind that was reality.

  “I wonder why so many homes are for sale,” I thought aloud.

  “Well this is not the most scenic area. Perhaps they were foreigners who wanted an island getaway, invested in the first piece of real estate that they could afford or find, and then realized that living in the brush was not to their liking?” Jordan replied, practical as always. “You haven’t seen the turn off yet, have you? I feel like we may have passed it…”

  A truck loudly blared its horn from behind us causing me to jump. I turned slightly and waved, used to the routine from the past thirty minutes of driving with impatient locals coming upon us. I am certain each were dumbfounded by our brazen decision to drive a golf cart this far out. The truck revved its engine and passed by on the right. I watched with a smile, witnessing the driver shaking her head while she sped off to leave us far behind.

  “There,” Jordan reached his arm out, directing me toward a clearing on the left. He slowed the cart and pulled onto a worn path. It was not paved and would have otherwise been impassable were it not for the many vehicles that had forged the trail ahead of us. Leaving the main road behind silence surrounded us, amplified by the overgrown fauna signifying that civilization was no longer within reach. We bounced along and as we stared at the path before us I could not help but feel a bit uneasy at the silence enveloping us. “Our adventure continues!” Jordan exclaimed, pressing his foot against the pedal to urge the cart forward.

  I pulled my camera out briefly to document the trail then quickly replaced it into the bag as Jordan bounced the cart along the uneven forest terrain. Doing my best to hold on to the bag, as well as my seat, I witnessed the woods engulf us. I turned to look back at the road we had recently left and watched as the asphalt disappeared from view. “This is a lot more rural than I expected…”

  “It makes it exciting!” Jordan eagerly declared while playfully hitting my knee.

  I watched ahead as the cart slowly maneuvered over the dips in the trail. Something caught my eye amidst the trees and we found ourselves driving past a large plywood fence which acted as a fortress. Several broken down vehicles revealed themselves as the path approached the fencing. The degradation of the cars insinuated that they had been pulled off the road a long time ago. As a clearing slowly appeared we witnessed people loitering around the vehicles, visibly uncomfortable with our presence. I looked down toward the spare battery at my feet, wondering if we would find ourselves having to change it out soon and using that thought as an excuse to not provide eye contact.

  “I wonder who lives here,” I asked quietly, looking up briefly to witness the people stop what they were doing and stare at us. A few potcake dogs perked up from their nap in a flatbed to see what was passing by. Jordan gave a quick smile and waved to the people milling around while we bounced along past them. One of the men waved back, but failed to smile. Their visible discomfort made me recall Jordan’s earlier comment about this location not being a common stop for tourists during our initial planning of the excursion. “How far was it from the main road?”

  “Not too far, I don’t recall seeing any buildings on the map though,” he stated. “Perhaps it will be around this bend up ahead.”

  With that I returned to staring at the worn path in front of us, hoping the cart would not fail with each dip it encountered while also wondering whether the people we passed had returned to what they had been up to or if they were plotting to follow the two tourists obviously out of their element. I watched as the bend came closer with each turn of the wheels. I could feel them struggling to continue moving forward as they found themselves out of their element and silently prayed they would not give out on us.

  Upon clearing the bend, Jordan stopped the cart. The woods had formed an opening, the center of which sat a stagnant pool. “Looks like we found it!” he exclaimed as he stepped out of the cart and stretched, having sat in the cart for almost forty minutes. I stared at the water, surprised at the anxiety I was beginning to feel. Earlier the idea sounded like a perfect side trip.

  Jordan stripped off his shirt and pushed off his sandals as he made his way to the edge. “Would you look at that,” he stated, arms outstretched to grandly reveal the hidden wonder. Sensing I was not so eager to follow he turned and motioned toward me to join him. I cautiously followed in his trail, leaving my belongings in a neat pile.

  The ground was rough beneath my feet. Coming from daily routines of being restrained by socks and shoes they were not used to being so exposed. Jordan clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this,” he declared then jumped off the edge into the abyss. He sunk beneath the surface, leaving the water to ripple where the tension had been broken. I watched him with clarity
, for the water was pristine, as he sunk then resurfaced with an excited shout. Brushing the droplets from his face, he turned toward me to see what progress I had made. “Well? What are you waiting for? The water’s more than fine!”

  I continued my cautious walk across the limestone and made my way to the edge as I tried to determine where my unease was originating from so that I could attempt to set it aside and be more like Jordan, living for the experience. The almost perfect cylindrical shape was certainly a factor. While I understood the natural forces behind its creation there was the feeling that unnatural forces were actually behind the creation of this blue hole. After all, weren’t crop circles just that- circles?

  Then there was the depth. Sure the water was clear, more than fine even according to Jordan’s experience, but its depth was certainly a bother as you could see the surface darken below, maybe forty meters down, until it became a black hole. Anything could be down there, watching, and we would have no idea until it was too late.

  “Come on,” he coaxed, swimming toward me and outstretching his hand. “You can see that nothing is here.”

  I recited a basic mantra in my head that I