The Robin

The sun touched the fertile landscape with its golden fingers as the cockerel crowed triumphantly. The rhythms of the dawn swelled with the growing light, marking the end of the night's dominion. Amidst the celebration of nature, a young man lay quietly in his bed, shades drawn and windows shut, and he stared contemplatively at the ceiling above him. He felt ill this morning, not of the body but of the mind. He had begun feeling this way every so often since the death of his father about five years before. His friends had tried their best to comfort him, but no amount of joy could extinguish the lingering darkness in his heart.

The sun was about halfway to its zenith when the young man forced himself out of bed, no longer able to tolerate his idleness. Today was meant as a day of rest, one in which the townspeople could enjoy the company of their loved ones and indulge themselves in their favorite pastimes. But not for the young man. He was utterly alone, with no friends or family to commune with and no hobby that gave him passion anymore. The last of his close friends had moved to the city for work. A mining mogul had begun recruiting nearby townsfolk to work in his lucrative emerald mine, enticing them with promises of riches and stability. Leading a plain life in his small cottage was enough stability for the young man. His father had taught him the beauty of living among nature and being in touch with the earth. He told him that the only way to truly understand oneself was to study the ways of nature and find one’s place among it. As man was born of the earth, he must spend his life learning from it, and end his life by returning to it. But his father was gone, and the young man could no longer appreciate the beauty his father had once admired without being reminded of the pain of not having him there to share it.

The young man opened the door to his cottage and stepped onto the soft green grass, shielding his eyes from the overwhelming light of the sun. The day was nearly at its half point, and with nothing else to do, the young man decided to take a walk. It was warm outside as it was springtime, but there was still a residual winter chill in the breeze. If the young man were not sick, this would have been his ideal type of day. He used to love fishing in the lake. On some days of rest, he and his friends would fish all day and build a fire to roast their spoils in the evening, and on others, he would go on walks with his father to learn from him the different types of birds, plants, and insects that crossed their path. His father was the one who had taught him how to fish, which ones were the best to eat, and which ones were best to throw back into the lake.

The young man walked past the lake not far from his cottage. Two small children were splashing their feet in the shallow waters by the shore, their parents watching cautiously nearby. Across the way, three adolescents cast their fishing lines into the deeper part of the lake where the biggest fish resided. The young man stopped for a moment to watch them. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see the flash of their teeth as they smiled and joked with one another, and he could swear that their laughter was carried on the wind and tickled his ears. His path slowly diverged from the happy scene at the lake and took him further into the rugged countryside. Here, the grass grew thicker and wilder and the trees taller and more overgrown. Something about this land was welcoming to him as it seemed to shut him off from his burdens in the real world.

Suddenly, a flash of orange flitted in his peripheral and he quickly snapped his gaze to it. It was a robin that had alighted on a bare branch of a nearby tree down a shallow hill, its bright orange breast a stark contrast against the dull grey bark of the tree. It sang with its sweet, high-pitched melodic voice - a smile touched the corners of the young man’s mouth. He gingerly stepped toward it to get a closer look, but it quickly leapt from the branch and glided further down the hill where it disappeared into the rocks. The young man was astonished: where had it gone? He figured there must be a burrow in the hillside it had flown into, but he had never noticed any significant holes or tunnels before. He decided to investigate and started down the shallow hill. The rocks were more numerous on the side of the hill and the path more treacherous, but he was usually very sure-footed. This time, however, his toe caught on a small protruding rock in the ground, and he felt himself tumble forward. He fell the rest of the way down but only suffered minor cuts on his hands and knees and a bump on the head.

Before him was a substantial hole in the ground that appeared to be the maw of a cave. It was just large enough for a man to crawl into comfortably. The robin had to have flown in there, for there were no other holes or burrows nearby. He couldn’t recall ever seeing this cave before, but sometimes heavy spring rains and rushes of water from melted snow uncovered hidden parts of the earth that perhaps were meant to remain concealed. He stuck his head partly into the hole and listened for the sound of the robin, and he thought he could hear a faint flutter of wings. He suddenly worried the bird perhaps had injured itself or couldn’t find its way back out. A chirp issued deep within the cave and echoed within a seemingly vast space. Curious, the young man ventured further into the mouth and let his eyes adjust to the darker environment before him. He could begin to make out a tunnel that seemed to decline at a slight angle. The air that swept up from the tunnel seemed to come in breaths, the smell of it humid and stale. Pushing his hands against the sides of the tunnel to steady himself, he began his descent into the throat of the cave.

As he delved deeper, encouraged by the occasional chirp of the robin, he felt the temperature drop and the light recede rapidly. He began to hear the echoes that emanated from some cavernous space ahead even though he couldn’t see an end to the tunnel. As the darkness began to envelop him entirely, a momentary panic rose in his chest. What if he couldn’t get back out? How would he find his way around to help the robin if he had no light with which to see? He cursed himself and pressed his palms hard against the walls to stop himself from going further. He winced as the rock dug into the cuts on his hands. The tunnel was too tight for him to turn around, so the best he could do was crawl backwards to the mouth of the cave. Working against gravity, he propelled himself with the heels of his hands and balls of his feet. He was making good headway, but the exertion was beginning to fatigue him, and perspiration gathered on his forehead and dripped off the tip of his nose. The warmth of the air above began to permeate into the tunnel, filling him with hope, and his energy renewed as he climbed higher and higher.

That was when tragedy struck. His palms, slick with sweat and blood, gave way and slid down the sides of the tunnel, his chest and chin slamming onto the rocky passage. The arching of his feet, once providing traction for his ascent, inadvertently aided in his fall as it launched him forward in his panic. He tried to reach out for something to grab onto, but the tunnel was smooth, smoother than he remembered, and the decline felt steeper, too. He was too terrified to yell as he tumbled into the abyss and was consumed by the cave.

It seemed like he fell for many minutes, maybe even hours or days. The cave was timeless. The young man let himself be drawn into its bowels since there was nothing he could do to prevent it. His eyes strained to collect the few photons that managed to make their way to these unimaginable depths. He prepared himself mentally for the inevitable landing at the bottom of the cave, but it didn’t come; he just kept falling. 

Just when he began to think the tunnel might lead all the way to the center of the earth, the floor gave way. For a moment, he felt as though he was swimming through the dark waters of a massive lake. But then his stomach lurched as gravity pulled him toward an unseen ground. His panic renewed, and he shielded his head with his arms as he crashed onto the rocks. He lay motionless for a time in a fetal position, his arms still covering his head, eyes closed. His breaths were ragged and quick; his heart beat wildly in his chest. He felt a sharp pain in his side, but the rest of his body felt numb. There was a consistent dripping noise behind him, and an occasional splash like a small fish leaping in a body of water. Slowly, he relaxed his muscles and began to unfurl his body. He opened his eyes, but nothing seemed to change. The void was still before him. He blinked a couple of times, but there was no distinction between the opening and closing of his lids. He sighed deeply and looked in the direction where he thought he had fallen; no shred of light betrayed the position of the calamitous tunnel.

A chirp in the distance stirred the air around him and he felt an instant spark of hope in his chest. He carefully got to his feet, clutching at the pain in his side. With his free hand waving ahead of him to feel for any obstacles in his path, he shuffled his way in the direction of the bird. Just as he wished for another sound from the robin, a string of high-pitched notes issued from the space in front of him, even further away than last time. His free hand struck a piece of rock and he nearly cried out in surprise. He soon realized that the rock was a wall, and that the space around him had gotten narrower. He inched his way forward, using his free hand against the rock as a guide. The air seemed to compress and his chest felt heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was from some external stimulus or if it was all in his head. The rock gradually eased away from him and the passage expanded. It was deafeningly silent. The young man could hear his own blood rushing through his veins to his beating heart and flowing out through his arteries. He uttered a small sound, but his voice was immediately swallowed by the darkness.

A sharp cry cut through the darkness and the young man covered his ears. It was the robin, but it sounded distressed.

“Where are you?” he called, his voice muted.

He thought he saw in the corner of his eye a flutter of wings. He turned around and stumbled forward and grasped at the wings but didn’t feel feathers. He felt flesh.

He fell back in horror and tried to make out the figure before him. It was amorphous, almost blending in with the rest of the cave, but he could swear that he could make out a familiar shape.  

“F-Father?”

Something moved and he gasped. His eyes stung with tears, his breathing uneven and frantic. He heard breathing that was not his own - the breaths smelled humid and stale. A footstep padded gently on the rock, and then another. The young man’s breaths quickened and his heartbeats sounded wet and heavy, the blood roaring in his ears.

“Dear god!”

His eyes widened as he tried to make out the full shape of the being in front of him. Pat. Another padded footstep.

“Oh god! What - ?”

Pat.

“It can’t be.”

Pat.

“Why me? Why now?”

Pat. The young man began weeping.

“Please, I beg you, stop! Come no closer!”

The footsteps stopped only a few feet away and the breaths fell gently on his face. The terror fused with some other emotion like euphoria. It squeezed his heart until he felt it would burst. He slowly reached out and touched something.

Trembling, he sobbed, “It is - ! I-I can’t believe - ! No, it can’t - ! Father! I-I love -”