Stuck, With No Way Out

Photo by sergiy pomoynytskyy on Unsplash

George and his dog were stuck in an old shed, deep in the forest. Owls had begun hooting as dusky grayness turned to deep dark. A rustling in the leaves let him know they weren’t totally alone. Yes, he could just make out small beady eyes, in the few seconds of silence, before the rustling began again. Davy had curled up in the leaves and gone to sleep. Maybe he’d lay down too, and try to sleep. Davy’s chest rose and fell, his thick coat providing a warm pillow.

George considered his problem. He just wanted to explore the woods. His uncle had said to stay away from them, but that just made him want to go more. He took Davy for company, though Davy was getting to be an old dog.

They passed that small waterfall, where the deep purple iris had lined the bank. He’d stumbled over stones, maybe a house foundation, though vines had hidden its reality from sight. Then he spied a multitude of yellow daffodils and realized they lined a stone path from the old foundation to an stone circle surrounding a pit that had to have been a well.

He pulled a small stone from the overgrown path and dropped it into the pit. A faint splash gave confirmation.

All of a sudden dark clouds rolled over the sky. Treetops began whipping back and forth. CRACK! A large branch fell just 2 feet away! Leaves swirled, stinging as they struck. He had to find shelter and fast!

They started running, and found a log shed to ducked into. A hefty gust of wind slammed the door shut! George felt grateful, until he realized there was no way out. He couldn’t find a handle or a finger hold, though he see well enough through the spaces between the logs. He noticed the floor was stone. Davy wouldn’t be able to dig through that.

As the wind died down, he realized they were trapped!

To make matters worse, he hadn’t told anyone he was going on a hike. And he hadn’t brought any food or water. At least they’d had a good drink back at the waterfall. Reminding himself of that cool clear water made him thirsty. He mustn’t think about it he decided.

In the morning, sunlight filtered through the logs, waking them up. Davy nosed around in the leaves sniffing smells of the mice that had been their roommates. George decided to look over every inch of their prison, to see if anything showed up that might help them escape.

Where the walls met the floor, leaves moldered to a brown dirt, George felt for a gap in the logs just above the stone floor. His fingernails crusted with dirt, and fingers got sore as he scraped them against the stones, but he kept going, inch after inch. He was getting hungry and felt determined to find a way out. His fingers found something. He worked loose a small cylindrical object about 5 inches long. He stuck it in his pocket and kept looking.

After he’d gone all the way around to no avail, he sat, back against the log wall, and took his find out of his pocket. He spat on it and rubbed it with dry leaves to see if he could work out what it was. It look a lot of spit. The object seemed to be hollowed out, like a kind of whistle. He found some leaves with stiff petioles, and cleaned out the inside, as best he could.

He blew to give it a try. It sounded like “Bwaaa”. He blew again. “Bwaaa, Bwaaa, Bwaaa.”

“I don’t know, Davy, old boy. This sounds terrible.” The more he tried, the more it just went “Bwaaa.”

But outside the shed, a couple of wild ducks landed in the trees, and began quacking. “Bwaaa, Bwaaa, Bwaaa!”

George was amazed! The whistle was attracting ducks. He blew it for all he was worth, “Bwaaa! Bwaaa!

More and more wild ducks arrived, creating a huge ruckus.

Soon, George heard his uncle coming up the hillside, complaining, “What the heck are all you doing up here! Can’t anyone get any peace and quiet? You fool birds came out of nowhere! This is not a lake! Go on, get away!” George could see him shaking his fist at the ducks in the trees.

George shouted “Uncle Elam! Uncle Elam!”

After several minutes his shouts reached his uncle’s ears. Elam responded, “George! Is that you?”

“We’re in the shed! Help! We can’t get out!”

“Hang on! How did you get stuck in there?” Elam heaved the shed door open.

“Thank God, Uncle Elam! I thought we’d never get out of there.” George threw his arms around his uncle.

“How did you get stuck in there?” Elam repeated.

“A storm came up and branches were falling. We ran into the shed and the wind blew the door shut. We couldn’t get out. We had to sleep in the leaves on the floor. Then I found this whistle, but it doesn’t whistle very well.”

“That’s your grandpa’s old duck call! He made that one!”

“Can I keep it? I want to remember this day, the day I got stuck in a shed in the forest. I was rescued because of this whistle, a treeful of ducks, and you, Uncle Elam! I think I’ve got a story to tell.”

And he did!

Rose Alice White

April 4, 2024