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Tuesday, June 6, 2006 – 9:17 a.m.
The Secret Garden
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Benita’s eyes flickered open. The bright sunshine was pouring down on her from above, warming her back and lighting the day with brilliant beams of heat. Her mind clearing, she began to remember where she was. Suddenly, Benita jumped from the bench. She reached up and clawed at her arms and legs, her face, back and torso. Screaming, she continued to claw herself repeatedly, still under the belief that she was enshrouded in spider silk and being attacked by spiders of all kinds. After a few seconds, she stopped, realizing that there was nothing on her. With a bewildered look, she quickly looked here and then there, up and down, in front of her and behind trying to find the horrific little creatures with which she’d been infected just moments ago. But to her surprise and amazement, there was nothing. The gurgling stream continued to gurgle, a tiny bird continued to bathe in the birdbath and a myriad tiny animals continued to scurry from place to place. Drops of blood dripped from her fingertips and face and left crimson petals of red on the rocks below. Benita’s mind was racing to find an explanation, but it was unable to find one.
Shaking, Benita sat back down on the bench. In a state of panic and paranoia, Benita couldn’t quit looking at everything around her. She was terrified that the spiders would return. Any little movement, whether it be a slight breeze moving the flowers or trees, a small furry animal running here and there or a bird flying in and out of the garden, caused Benita’s senses to stay in a heightened state of alert. Her eyes darted back and forth like a squirrel on drugs. She couldn’t settle down no matter what she did or thought. Her mind was racing in high gear and she couldn’t stop it.
Staring at the birdbath, a small trickle of water began to dribble over the side. The bird who was bathing seemed oblivious to this situation. Benita thought this was odd, but didn’t do anything about it. The water continued to dribble over the edge until a small rivulet of water made its’ way through the rocks and passed between Benita’s legs. It emerged on the back of the bench and connected with the pond on that side. As she watched, the water continued to flow. At first, it stayed a dribble, but then it began to increase in intensity. The dribble turned into a stream. The water current increased and Benita was forced to lift her feet off the ground. Strangely enough, the area inside the garden was beginning to fill with water although, as far as Benita could tell, the area outside the garden was as dry as a bone on the sands of Death Valley. For some reason, the water wasn’t draining out of the garden. It was as if she were inside of a plant-filled swimming pool. The water continued to pour from the birdbath. Now the stream turned into a torrent, pouring from the structure like an opened fire hydrant. Water was increasing in depth every minute. Beginning to panic, Benita stood up on the bench. The water was now six inches deep and rising. Thinking as quickly as she could, Benita jumped from the bench and ran for the hidden exit. The water’s flow prevented her and she fell down face first into the rising water. Struggling to get up, Benita began to be swept around the interior of the garden in a whirlpool that continued to increase in speed and intensity. Reaching out, Benita was able to grasp a leg of the bench. Using all her strength, she pulled herself toward it. Reaching up, she grasped the back of the bench seat and pulled. Slowly, but surely, she was able to get her body onto the bench. The water had now reached one foot. The torrent continued and Benita watched as the water rose to the two-foot mark. Slowly it covered the bench seat forcing Benita to stand. It continued to climb, higher and higher.
After another five minutes, the water was at Benita’s waist. It was freezing cold and Benita’s body was covered with gooseflesh. She was shivering uncontrollably and was beginning to find it hard to stand. The water kept rising and swirling around her. Since she was in the eye of the whirlpool, she wasn’t being swept in circles although keeping her balance proved to be challenging. The water continued to rise until it reached her neck and she was no longer able to stand. Now she had to swim. Her cold, weak muscles struggled against the current. The water rose further. Bubbles raced to the surface as the water roared from the birdbath. The water was now at a depth of ten feet. It continued to swirl round and round. The trees and plants around her whirled by in a blur. Benita found it difficult to see or focus on where she was. All she could do was swim.
Suddenly, the flow stopped. The water, however, did not drain. It stayed at a depth of ten feet with Benita trying to stay afloat. As her increasingly cold body became more and more numb, Benita’s mind was racing with thoughts of survival. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to die by drowning. Of all the fears in the world, drowning was number two. Number one was spiders. Incapable of escaping this icy pool of death, Benita thought that maybe she could swim to the edge of this unbelievable pool and grab onto a tree branch or put her foot on something that would allow her to keep her head above water. She continued to kick and paddle trying not to sink. Benita turned toward the edge of the pool. Just ahead of her not more than ten feet away, a large overhanging branch of a tree beckoned her. With renewed vigor, she began to paddle toward it. It was difficult for her to feel her feet, but she continued kicking to the best of her ability. Slowly the gap between her and the tree branch closed. First ten feet, then eight, then five. Only a few more strokes and she’d be there. Three, two, one. Her fingers reached out toward the limb. Her fingernails scraped the bark of the branch. Benita’s heart raced, not only from the excitement of surviving, but also from the sheer terror of drowning. She kicked again. Her hand came to rest on the branch. With renewed zeal, Benita kicked harder. She couldn’t feel her legs. She was unsure if she was kicking or not. Then, to her horror, she watched as her hand slipped from the branch. The branch began to recede. First, an inch, then two, then three. An ice-filled almost inaudible scream squeaked from her throat. Her eyes bulged from her head and her hands thrashed wildly in the water. Watching her only means of survival slowly getting farther away, Benita’s mind and heart sank as if a lead weight tossed into the sea.
Benita’s body drifted toward the middle of the pool as if some invisible magnetic force had pulled her there. Trying to stay afloat, she continued paddling and kicking, although she was unsure how much, if any, kicking she was really doing. She tried a few times, in vain, to turn over and float on her back so that she might rest. However, every time she tried to do so, she would be flipped back over so that her feet continued to dangle in the water and her head and arms paddled on top. It was much like trying to hold a ball underwater. The sheer pressure and buoyancy of the water will make the ball float, no matter what. Benita’s body did the same, but only in one position.
Her body tiring, Benita began to sink lower in the water. Choking on a mouthful of water, Benita would kick harder bringing herself back to the surface. Her numb hands and arms would flail about in desperate measure trying to keep afloat. In addition, as if that weren’t enough, Benita began to allow her imagination to get the best of her. She began to imagine that something, an animal, shark or some other underwater creature would at any time come up from underneath her and pull her down or bite her in half. Already in a state of panic, Benita’s imagination added fuel to the fire. She began to imagine that something was grabbing and pulling at her feet and legs. A weak scream would emerge from her and her heart would pound harder. Then the sensation would subside, only to return. The same pulling at her feet. A gentle nudge, something bumping her toes. The brush of something smooth or scaly against her thighs. The pointed pinprick of something sharp scraping or sinking into her flesh. Not only was Benita trying to scream, but her mind was screaming too, screaming in sheer panic and terror, her imagination unleashed like some wild creature from a trap, like the arcing and jumping of an electrical line broken free from a utility pole, like hot steam from a damaged pipe.
Adding to the fear and horror of being eaten or attacked, Benita also began to imagine that she was swimming in some bottomless pool, a pool that went deeper and deeper, never ending. She feared sinking, sinking and never touching bottom, sinking farther and farther down into the pressure and darkness below, sinking into an abyss whose end was unknown. She feared that if she could hold her breath for one, two, twenty or hundreds of minutes, she would still keep sinking. Never reaching bottom, never stopping, her body slowly being crushed like a pop can in a vacuum. She struggled against her dying strength trying to stay afloat. More water filled her mouth as she sank. Kicking, she re-surfaced, barely able to hold her head above water. Her energy was waning; slowly draining away in the same fashion that water in a bathtub finally disappears down the drain. Benita knew she would die here.
The sudden realization of something pulling her toward the center of the pool caused a wave of panic to race over her body. Benita struggled against it, but to no avail. Some force was tugging at her legs. Although she couldn’t make out the exact means by which she was being pulled, she nevertheless felt the sensation of pressure being exerted on her lower calves and ankles. Sheer terror filling her body, Benita kicked harder and struggled with all her might to break free of the pulling. Then, she started to turn round and round.
The pool began to turn, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Caught in a whirlpool, Benita’s body spun helplessly in circles, faster and faster in the middle of the pool. Her head was slowly sucked beneath the surface of the water. She kicked and flailed, thrashed and twisted trying to reach the surface. Too late. The vortex had pulled her down. Water surrounded her body and head. She was being pulled down farther under the surface. Trying to hold her breath, Benita continued to desperately break free of the pull of the whirlpool. She continued to sink. Benita could feel her lungs beginning to burn. She yearned desperately for a full breath of fresh, clean air. Her mind was screaming for oxygen, but her lungs could provide none. Blowing out the used CO², Benita hoped to take some of the pressure off her lungs to give her just a little more time to struggle to the surface. She continued to sink. Benita’s lungs felt as if they were about to burst. The internal pressure was so great that her ribs hurt and her body felt as if it were about to explode. Her mind was screaming, “Open your mouth! Get me some air!” Benita was unable to answer the request. At her limit of holding in the used oxygen, Benita let it all out with one final exhalation. Automatically she sucked in to fill her lungs with air, only to get a mouthful of water instead. Choking, Benita spit out the water only to suck in another mouthful in an attempt to get air. Again a mouthful of water. Her lungs became water balloons. She gasped, flailed, thrashed, kicked, grabbed, twisted, turned, choked, spun. Her vision began to darken, her mind was racing, her body was in the throes of death.
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