Black Hole

I had purchased a long-abandoned plantation home in Louisiana, a dream of mine since I was a kid. The image I had in my head of how it would look when I was finished renovating was everything I had ever hoped for, but I have to admit that when I signed the deed, the place was a dump. It retained some of its charms though, which sealed the deal in the end.

Ancient, moss-draped Angel Oak sprawl out from the house for miles and miles before the sights and sounds of New Orleans overtake the dewy stillness of the bayou. As the real estate agent rumbled off in his Mercedes, I stood on the porch and listened to the crickets and the tree frogs chirping in the evening air. It reminded me of childhood, when happiness was a simple as hearing the changing of the seasons on the bellow of a bullfrog, and everything held magic and wonder.

I was grateful for all the distractions my new project provided me. Distractions. I feel like I lived off distractions and caffeine. If there was a specific instance in my life when the magic disappeared and the wonder left me, leaving me cynical and unimpressed, I do not recall. I thought maybe this old house in this enchanting stretch of forest would be big enough to fill in some gaps, but it wasn’t the first material object I had tasked to do that for me.

I wasted no time, and I got to work the next morning. The first phase was daunting; clean and demolish, not necessarily in that order. It was time to clear the old girl out and remove the parts of her that were too decomposed to bring back to life. Every piece of rotting history I had to throw into the trash trailer was a small heartache. I have always been fascinated by people, places, and things rich with history, from tragic to revolutionary (and sometimes both). This fascination is, in part, what drew me to my new property. The final key was the mystery of the place.

On the surface, my new home had a similar history to other plantation houses of the time and era in which it was built, but it is also shrouded in local legends and strange rumors. Apparently, the last time anybody lived in the house or on the property was just after the end of the Civil War. The slaves were free, but they say the workers on this plantation came to love their masters, and when their freedom was granted, they chose to stay. Not long after, they all disappeared; the newly independent staff, the family that owned the plantation, the chickens, the dogs, the cats. All vanished without a trace. Rumors started spreading around the area that the family were practitioners of magic, and that, “They got what comes to people who mess with that stuff.”

“Magicians?” I raised an eyebrow at Mr. Sawyer, the closest neighbor the property had. We were putting back a few and talking about the history of the house. “Like, sleight of hand, now you see me, now you don’t?”

“No, son,” Mr. Sawyer said in his deep southern drawl. He shook his head and adjusted his old dirty hat. “Real magic. The kind we ain’t s’posed to see.” He paused again and took a long, slow pull from his beer. He sat the mug back down on the old oak table between us, looked me in the eye and said, “But you right about one thing. Now you see me,” he put his hands over his eyes and opened them like a game of peek-a-boo, “Now you don’t.” He laughed, a hearty, toothless cackle. “You hear me, boy? Them folks vanished, no hide, no hair left behind!”

By the end of the second week, and with the help of a few new friends I made of the locals, the house was almost a proper carcass to start breathing life into. I was working alone on the last day of phase one, and as I was clearing out the last room, the floor beneath me creaked. I nearly jumped out of my skin. The sound was not what I expected to hear from the floor in the basement. As far as I was aware, it was all bare ground.

I grabbed my lantern and sat it by my feet. In the harsh glow of the LEDs, I could see a small hole in the dirt, and the particles around the hole seemed to be moving slightly, as though a gentle breeze was coming up through the small opening. An old shovel was propped against the wall nearby and I decided to see about removing some of the layers of soil. It didn’t take much effort. After two swipes, I could see the outlines of a wooden door. It looked like a hatch that would lead to a basement, but I was in the basement. Maybe there was a wine cellar, down there.

The thought of having my own historic wine cellar, and maybe even finding an excellent vintage or two, had me wasting no time. I put on my work gloves and hooked a finger into the small, circular opening. The rope handle must have rotted away decades ago, I thought as I pulled up on the lid. There was some resistance, then the door gave way with a creeek, POP!

As the dust settled, I found myself staring down into the blackest darkness I have ever seen in my life. It looked like an old well. Lowering the lantern did nothing to reveal what was in the shadows, or how deep they went. I had the idea to drop something into the hole. If I could determine how long it took the object to hit the ground, or whatever surface was down there, I might have a better idea of the depth of this thing. I swung my lantern around the room to find something I could put to the test.

Light and shadows danced across the walls as I swept the area, and something small and vibrant caught my eye. It was a ruby red ball, the size of a large marble. Yep, it’s a marble, I thought, This will work. I tossed the ball between my hands a few times for good measure, then held it out over the hole. Okay, creepy hole in my basement. Let’s see where you go.”

 I released the marble and it vanished into the darkness. After a few seconds passed, then ten, I wondered just how the hell far this thing went. Straight to China? Straight to Hell? I wondered if it had already hit the bottom, but I just had not heard it. As I was about to turn away to find something bigger, the ruby red marble shot back out of the hole, stayed suspended in the air for half a second, then dropped back into the abyss. What was that? I stood there contemplating what I had just seen for another ten seconds or more, when the marble jumped out of the darkness and into the basement air, again. I reached out and caught it before it could make another trip. It was cool to the touch, which was odd, because even in the basement the heat of a Louisiana summer was oppressive.

I threw the shovel into the hole. It is a ball, it probably just hit the right spot and kept bouncing. It was crude reasoning, but I was trying not to lose my marbles. I waited to silently to hear the clatter of the shovel. Instead, the rusty old thing sprang up from the well, then fell back into the darkness. Shovels don’t bounce, especially without so much as a whisper. Over the course of the next few hours, I continued to throw more and more items into the hole. I recorded the time between fall and re-entry to be exactly 13 seconds, no matter the shape, size, or weight of the object.

When I threw in two objects, 6.5 seconds apart, the pattern stayed the same; both items alternating six and a half seconds apart, so I threw more items in. Same result, every item returning 13 seconds after it left, cool as a cucumber. I wondered how it was possible that none of the items ever crashed into each other. It seemed impossible. This all seemed impossible, but there it was. As I was snatching each object out of the air and setting them aside, I thought about my GoPro. It would come back, everything else did. Luckily, I kept it in my van.

Camera in hand, I pushed record and dropped it in, along with the lantern. The darkness swallowed the light, almost immediately, and I was left standing in the dark. Impossible! When the lantern and the camera reappeared, it happened in an instant. The room was pitch dark, and then the lantern was shooting into the air, blasting light into the basement. I had been watching the hole the entire time. There was no warning, no growing speck of light. It came in an instant. It was a black hole! I grabbed the lantern and the GoPro and sat on the ground. My heart raced as I stopped the recording, and then pushed “Play.”

As soon as the camera and the lantern dropped about a foot and a half into the well, everything went black. Thirteen seconds later, the screen lit up again. It looked like the camera was upside-down in a different landscape. It was nighttime but the air was filled with an ethereal glow. On the top of the screen, I could see what looked like wild grass blowing in the breeze, and below that, off in the distance, was the sea, but not like I had ever seen it. It was clear as a bell, and it glowed a vibrant blue in the dark. I swear I could see outlines of strange creatures swimming out deep in the water.

The camera turned slightly at its peak, displaying an enormous moon, projecting a serene blue-violet hue on the landscape. A pinkish mist clung to rolling hills, seeming to flow through the valleys like slow rivers. The stars were glitter in the sky, shining all different colors. Another 13 seconds of darkness, and the camera reemerges into the basement, stopping in the air in front of my stunned face. I must have watched the thing a thousand times before my ass was too sore from sitting on the hard floor I had to get up.

I was confused. I couldn't explain what I was looking at, and I had never seen anywhere like the place in that footage. That night, I dreamed of the strange world, of impossible creatures and physical laws that were unfamiliar to me. The peace and energy in this dream world were intoxicating, and I felt inside of me a vibrant force, a magical pulse. When I woke from my dreams, they did what most dreams do and faded away before I could recall them, but I did remember where I was and how it felt. I remembered the decision I had made.

I got up and made myself a cup off coffee. I was going to need it for what I was about to do. I felt strangely calm as I sat on the porch, staring out at the trees and enjoying my brew. I was either about to die, or my life was about to change, forever. After some unknown amount of time, I put down my mug and walked slowly to the basement. A movie reel of my life was flashing through my head. I arrived at the well and stood at the edge for what felt like an eternity.

Now or never.

I took one deep breath to steady my nerves, one deep breath just in case I might need it, and I dove headfirst into the black hole.