GERTIE KNEW she had to keep moving, for the cave would soon flood and she’d be trapped in the rising water. Down and down she went through the tunnel. When light from the entrance had dimmed to almost nothing, Gertie stopped to rest and realized there was something in her pocket.
She plunged her hand into the wet, scratchy gown, and removed a cold, rusty key, with twirly bits in the handle. Although she could barely see it, the key felt like it belonged to a lock in an old door—perhaps in the place she had come from? Her heart fluttered with excitement. Maybe it was even the door to her home? Or was the key even hers? Had she stolen it and become a thief? Won it in an epic sword fight or ax-throwing contest? What if she was a murderer and didn’t know?
In the dim light she nervously studied the key for any red stains, and was relieved to find only a few faint letters of flowery script that read:
K.O.L.T.
Who or what was KOLT? she thought. More than likely a vital part of her getting home,
After putting the key back in her pocket (and feeling through the fabric to check it was there), Gertie continued down the tunnel until it was so dark she could not see even her own grimy, outstretched hand. It was as though her eyes were closed, and she were moving about inside her own head, searching for the lost memories of who she was, and where she had come from.
Then the path turned steep, and she began slipping forward toward what she imagined would be some horrible doom. Perhaps another worm, or the worm’s mother with a feeding hole so large you could slide right in and land on her tongue and not even realize—until you were left wondering why the ground had suddenly turned into a wet cushion.
With hands reaching, Gertie ignored the pain and stiffness in her crouching body.
When the rock got slimy, she entered a large chamber where somehow there was enough light for her to see the outline of her body in the wet gown. There was also a thunderous crashing, which Gertie decided must have been an underground waterfall.
Then the tunnel narrowed again, going down into the earth for a long time. Gertie followed it until reaching another cave where her outstretched hands brushed something soft and mushy growing out of the wall. She flung her arms up in surprise, but slapped against more of the stuff, which hung from the ceiling like a damp, rubbery rash. It was some kind of plant, which glowed when touched and gave off enough light for Gertie to see the path ahead was split two ways.
She was about to choose the right path when there was a shuddering from her pocket. The key was vibrating. She pulled it out and continued down the right path, but soon the key was shaking so hard that Gertie’s teeth were rattling as she tried to hold on. She wondered if the key was trying to tell her something, and took a few steps backward. The shaking lessened to a buzz.
When she stepped toward the entrance of the other passage, the vibration was nothing more than a light tremble. Then as Gertie crossed the threshold to the left path, the key went completely still, as though satisfied she had chosen correctly. Gertie decided that it must possess some kind of magical power and was probably trying to get her home. She studied it again and ran her fingers gratefully over the four letters that said K.O.L.T.
« • • • »
Soon the path she had chosen with the aid of the key changed from a narrow passage of rock to a tunnel where soft moss grew over the floor and walls. Now, with enough light to see the outline of her whole body again, Gertie realized she must be near the top of the cliff. And after another hundred yards or so there appeared tiny openings to the sky, small explosions of white that blinded her for a few moments after looking at them.
Gertie imagined the thickness of water in the flooded tunnels behind her. The tide would be in, and the beach she had washed up on just a silent, weightless dream of fish and currents.
It was a place she would not have survived.