The Town Whispers: Season 1

Chapter 13: A Truth of Children Pt. 3

His breath came out of his throat like hot razor blades - the anxiety each wet hot puff of air carried with it tore at his throat, and left his teeth to ache in the cold air of the night.

Tom stood stared into the darkness - the cave - like all caves stood imposingly before him. Dark, and uninviting - a rip in the fabric of a well grounded reality, a place between spaces.

His eyes swam in the darkness, as they bobbed back and forth, searching that dark abscess of the world for an anchor to hitch his eyes to - to steady him - to prove that by stepping into that cave, he would not be stepping off the edge of the world, but try as he may, as far as Tom knew, he stood at the edge of the void - a pinprick through the thin paper on which his reality sat, and he peered into the nothingness beyond, the only soul in the entire world as acutely aware of the fragility of all things, as the cave threatened to suck him in, and never let him leave it's vacuum of despair.

Tom LaPonte could feel the weight of his body sitting heavy on his heels - resolute, unmoving, stubborn, and resisting the weak commands of his mind.

TOM: Move.

TOM: Move.

TOM: Common Tom, why won't you move.

But it wasn't that easy, not now, not after everything, not after all that time.

Tom had moved towards the cave instinctually, without thinking, lost in a sea of fragmented wants, and fears. As images flashed through his mind, as he reconciled with what he must do in the most abstract sense.

But standing there, in front of a doorway to his biggest regret - the one thing he could not undo, it had become suddenly very real.

And with the self loathing, the fear, the deep regret, remorse, and all those other negative emotions which had suddenly returned - Tom didn't seem to be able to make his body take that next step.

Of course he didn't want too - Of course he wanted to be in bed. But he had come because he knew he must come.

Since that.... That man - had spoken the words, it felt as if he was set on rails - as if Tom had no choice but to follow the momentum of his own wait, down the hill, turning, and weaving, as he teetered dangerous too and fro, feeling that at any moment he might be thrown from his course, and careen with some neighboring mountain.

And he had hurtled down that hill, until he had come to that crashing stop.

Right.

At The Mouth.

Of The Cave.

Completely unaware of his surroundings Tom stood there - immobilized, deaf, dumb, and numb to the world.

The hairs raised on the back of his neck, as he felt the eyes of something settle on him, make note of him, judging what he planned to do next.

Let whatever it was see - let it see his weakness, his trepidation - Tom was too worn, too beaten to put up any façade - let it see his insides torn out, as he was still quietly weeping, his eyes leaking, while the rest of his face stood unmoving.

Tom wondered quietly, what Peggy would do, if she were in his position - would she run into the cave bravely? Or would she cower the way Tom cowered?

No.

No she wouldn't cower - she was too strong now. He'd seen that the last time they'd spoken.

Peggy hadn't stomped her feet, or debated the matter with Tom. She hadn't said a word about her new found resolve at all in fact.

She didn't need to.

Tom had felt it in the square nature of her shoulders, the flat, unmoving angle of her bottom lip, and the lack of neurotic fiddling of the hair, and her clothing, that had been a staple of her everyday manner for as long as she had walked and talked.

If Peggy would delve the depths of the hell that stood like a broken shattered spot in the world, then so too could Tom.

All.

He had to do.

Was walk.

Forward.

One.

Step.

At a time.

Tom wrung the rope in his hands twisting it tight, and feeling the stiff fibers pinch in his palm one last time.

Hold his breath he lift his right foot, and placed it down on the ground a little further ahead of himself.

He then leaned forward as his left foot rose behind him.

Before planting it a little ahead of himself once again.

Tom LaPonte, could feel the coal being shoveled into the fire, his self pity, turning into a burning rage that screamed for his limbs to do as they were told.

And finally - without the momentum of fate behind him. Tom began to walk on his own, and into the cave.

[hang as the cave sounds fade in - layer some walking sounds if we can find an appropriate one, but quietly]