Charles Pendelton

	Charles Pendelton
	© 2008 Marty Langdon

Chapter 19

                The dreaded Silo 3



Here, in the middle of nowhere, was a concrete sewer that rose up from the ground
about two feet. The manhole cover could be found roughly twelve feet away and
had been propped up against a tree. As crazy as this may seem, it looked like
someone had at one time tried to roll it home.

“That bugs me out,” said Peter.

He was referring to the way the tree had grown over the sewer cap,
       making it seem like the tree's belly was melting over it.

“I can almost guarantee you that in twenty years,
that sewer cap is going to be completely gone.”

“The bark should stop when it hits the ground,” I said in the form of a question.

Not really sure if it's supposed to stop or begin moving right along,
like tree roots that ooze over sidewalks or flow out of tight spaces.

“I think it has to.”

“Can you imagine if it grew an inch per second?”

“Now, that would be bad. Tomorrow you'd wake up encased in darkness.
It covered the house.”

“Oh man, you'd be great in a horror movie Pete.”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing, “I'd probably be the first one to die.”

“Time, as terrible as it may be,” I said in reverie,
“can sure show us some pretty amazing things.”

“Ain't that the truth,” said Peter, lost in thought too.

Peter hesitated as always, looking down into the silent cavern and not saying a
single word. I waited to see if he would take the initiative by climbing into the hole,
but of course, he was reluctant to move, and so I was first again. I climbed into the
chamber and made my descent down a flaky rusted ladder that had, in fact, become
part of the concrete structure itself. The assembly of rusting molded steel, streamlining
down into a vast meridian of black nothingness, was quite intimidating, to say the least.
On the one hand, they were a massive one-inch thick. On the other, the steps were so
uncomfortably small that I felt like a giant climbing down a frail beanstalk.

As I descended down into the open conduit, I could not help but feel that one of those
ladder rungs would come free from its concrete riser, sending me hurling to my death.
Even though I knew that was not really possible.

                                                     Or was it?

As the outside light began to disappear, I thought about reaching for the flashlight.
However, doing so would leave the other arm compromised, and besides, how was
I going to make it down the ladder if I was holding onto a flashlight in the first place.

On second thought, it was better to wait until I reached the ground. The very last
thing I need today is to end up with a compound fracture. As I continued to make
my way down the narrow ladder into foreboding darkness where it felt like I was
undoubtedly going to be ripped to shreds by something beyond description, the
reverberation of my pulsing heart could be heard pounding in my throat.

                                                 Pg 92
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Once my shoes touched the ground, I released my grip, which now bore grid
imprints on both surfaces of each palm. I was certain the orange rust had
stained my hands like henna. The last time I came home from this place, I
cleaned my hands repeatedly, but it tainted my skin like a cheap liquid tan.

I had to be roughly forty feet down and totally submerged in desolate darkness,
for the outside light was cut off at about the halfway mark. Quickly and without
reservation, I grappled for the flashlight but found it was not there.

“Dear God in Heaven,” I stammered as the monsters came near.

In the words of my father, who once uttered the following line. . .
“If you work like an asshole, you get the results of an asshole.”

As I came to the realization that I had only mere moments to live,
I became filled with a panic, so intense I could no longer breathe
right. I knew that if I attempted to climb out of there in haste,
whatever was standing behind me would react instantly.

But if I could somehow manage to remain perfectly still,
then it may just be the darkness.

As something brushed against my foot, I released a scream.

“You all right down there?” yelled Peter through the hole.

“No, I am not all right. I need the flashlight;
I'm not alone down here.”

God, I shouldn't have said anything.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I think this might be the end.

Ever since I read that short story by August Derlith entitled, The Lonesome Place,
I seemed to have acquired a dreaded fear of shadows and dark places. Maybe it
was because I was only five years old when I read it, and it really touched me
emotionally. Or perhaps, being that young, my mind was so impressionable
it made the story come alive and is now seeking some kind of retribution.

Pete stuck his head in the echo chamber and asked wryly,
“Would you like to catch the flashlight?”

“No way, man,” I replied, “it'll hit me in the fucking face.”

A short burst of laughter could be heard, echoing down from the
top of the concrete cylinder. “I'm only kidding,” said Peter in a
devilish tone as he switched the flashlight from his right front
pocket to his back pocket before proceeding down the length
of the ominous silo. Around ten feet or so in, Peter once again
began to exhibit signs of panic.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“It's fine; you did it ten times already.”

“I know; I just can't shake the feeling that my life is in imminent danger.”

“You're gonna be in imminent danger of not smoking any more reefer
today if you don't get your ass down here within the next two minutes.”

“I'm coming, relax. Aaaah, goddamn it.”

“What's the problem?” I asked, hoping it wasn't going to delay him too long.

“The problem is, I just got a piece of shrapnel in my friggin' hand;
that's the problem. This is the last time I'm doing this stupid shit.”

I wish I had taken the lighter on my dresser just to see if there was anyone
here. If so, I probably would have had a heart attack and immediately died.

                                                 Pg 93
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Carefully, he moved down a few more bars
when I figured I might as well have some fun.

“Be mindful of that thirteenth step; it's very loose.”

“Aaaaah,” he screamed out like a deranged wolfman.

After my laughter subsided, I said, “That's for the flashlight remark.”
With wryness and perspicacity, he spoke in the voice of Moe Howard
from The Three Stooges.

“Remind me to hit you in the head with it when I get down from this thing.”
Peter's struggle ended as soon as his left foot came in contact with dry land.

“I think my hand is bleeding.”

“What did you expect to happen? You were holding onto that ladder
like you were dangling from the Triborough bridge, for Christ's sake.”

“I can't help it. I'm afraid of falling; what can I say?”

He then proceeded to wipe the sweat from his brow with a clean white
handkerchief that he always kept stuffed in his right front pocket.
“Here,” he said, handing me a tightly wrapped Jolly Rancher candy.

That was one of Peter's many trademarks... To carry them.

In the back of my mind, I wondered if there would be anyone awaiting us on the
other side. Of course, I knew there wouldn't be, and there couldn't be, but there
was always a one percent chance that today would be the day things went wrong.

From here, we would continue our journey through this lengthy hidden tunnel that
spanned the subterranean underground. How excited were we at the prospect
of returning to Eagle's Creek! A place cut off from the rest of the world. It was
almost as if a preeminent paradise awaited us on the other side. A land of purity
that radiated in its own shell of peace to bring hope unto those who found it. That
tiny district not found on any local map is embodied within an estate of land.
Procured merely by chance, it has been ultimately claimed by two settlers.

In fact, it was simply an escape from the doldrums of ordinary life.

“Isn't it cool, how our voice just carries on and on?”

Pete had that disillusioned face that told me he couldn't stay down here long.
Something about tight quarters and confined spaces that irked him, a form of
claustrophobia, perhaps? Whatever it was, he would not say. For him, the tunnel
was just an easy way of going from one place to another. For me, it was a cool
place to escape from the parching heat or to dwell in peaceful solitude apart
from the outside world. Without the tunnel, you could not go any further, and
walking through those thorns could prove to be a very painful form of suicide.

A dry-water mark showed us where the rain had
once reached its highest point in the old aqueduct.

“It's funny how there's no smell down here,” said Peter with moxie.

I stopped and handed him the flashlight while speaking in the voice of Curly Howard.

“Here ya go, Moe.”

“Why are you giving me the flashlight?”

“You said when you was comin' down da ladder, dat ya wan'ned
the flashlight, an you was gonna hit me on the head wit it.”

“Yeah, well, with my luck, it'll break, and we'll be trapped down here.”

Peter handed the flashlight back to me, and I noticed he had a very nervous face.

“You look exacerbated,” I said mockingly.

“I'm fine,” he replied in a seemingly aggravated tone that signaled the
height of worry. We paused in the middle of this immense tunnel, where
I sat down comfortably and crossed my legs like an old Indian Chief.

“We're not smoking down here, I hope.”

“Well, that was more or less the intention.”

“Oh God,” he muttered in disapproval while trying to calm
the restlessness that was building up inside of him.

I don't think Pete would have wanted to stay down here if there was
a state-of-the-art vending machine that dispensed marijuana, a public
phone booth, and a movie theatre that paid him to watch the show.

                                                 Pg 94
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Slowly, I began to stand up. As I shined the flashlight under my chin, I spoke to my friend, as
would a spectre in an old English horror movie, while attempting to sound like Bobby Pickett.

“It's deafeningly quiet down here, Boris. . .
Why don't you strike up some noise while I bring Ethel to her feet?”

“Enough with the Goddamn improvs,” he said in a disquieting, almost beleaguered tone.

“Calm down, man.”

“I refuse to calm down. It feels like we're walking around in a dank mausoleum down here.
Can we just advance onward, please?”

“You make it sound like we're in the Spanish-American war,” I said laughing.

“Of all the battles ever fought, what would possess you to pick that obscure war?
Jesus Christ Almighty.”

I could see he was now sweating profusely and exhibiting signs of intense fatigue. His eyes
were shifty, and his body movements were becoming erratic. Clearly, he seemed to be overly
anxious and was becoming exceedingly worried by the minute. It was almost as if Peter
knew the monster I spoke of earlier. The one waiting in the shadows to surprise us.

“Pete, what is the problem, man?”

“The problem is that the sun is outside, and we're in here.
Why do you want to get high in here for? It makes no sense at all.”

“I am not saying that we have to get high in here; I'm just saying...”

“Naw man, I didn't say we had to get high in here.
I mean, I didn't say that you said that we. . .”

He immediately stopped and calmly tried to remove the handkerchief from his
right front pocket while bringing his lips together like he had just taken a bite
of an unripe persimmon. The sweat had already begun to bead on his forehead.

He cleaned his face like he was using a washcloth over the bathroom sink.

“Can we go now before I have a nervous breakdown?”

“Yes, commander, we are advancing onward.”

From here, we continued our journey down yonder while following a small beacon of light
that came forth from a very cheap flashlight. At the end of this long concrete tube, we stood,
looking up. The ladder on this side was only half the height of the first one, and Peter made
his ascent with no signs of difficulty. There was no fear of darkness on this side whatsoever,
for the warm sunlight filtered in through the opening and covered me in its gentle rays.

“What a lovely day,” I proclaimed, cupping my hands
like a school megaphone from the roaring twenties.

I then bellowed into the great tube at the top of my lungs.

“How is the weather out there, old chum?”

My voice would carry its own echo down the long stretch of artery,
on and on into the realm of the abandoned.

“You would never know how beautiful it is up here if you're hanging
out in the middle of that tunnel,” shouted Pete into the wind and
away from the silo's opening, sounding overly sanguine.

“Hurry up, man,” he yelled down from above. I then scurried
up the steel ladder before taking one giant step for mankind.

                       The Parking Lot - World spinning sadly

                                                 Pg 95
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Reviews for chapter 19

Antonio Rivera - Fascinating. I am impressed with how you deliver each line!

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This review was posted on Sept/10/22

Lameez' review

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                                    This review was posted on Oct/25/22

                                  nehanegi1905 's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The dreaded Silo 3

                                    Reader's Report by nehanegi1905

                                       This review was posted on Nov/9/22

                                         iqrabashir871 's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The dreaded Silo 3

                                              Reader's Report by Iqra

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This review was posted on Nov/15/22

alits29's review

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                                       This review was posted on Nov/28/22

                                                 Hajranoor's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The dreaded silo 3

                                        Reader's Report by Hajra

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                                     This review was posted on Dec/26/22

                                 kanchanninawe's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The dreaded silo 3

Reader's Report by kanchan

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                                This review was posted on Feb/26/22

                                                  Alysorrow's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The dreaded Silo 3

                                       Reader's Report by Aly Sorrow

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This review was posted on Mar/3/23

Reviewed by yashodha_95

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This review was posted on Mar/18/23

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                                                This review was posted on Mar23/23

                                               Tayyaba17's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The Dreaded Silo 3

                                                   Reader's Report by Tayyaba

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This review was posted on Apr/21/23

sidrahumar120's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 19 - The Dreaded Silo 3

Reader's Report by Sidrah

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This review was posted on May/9/23
Reviewed by andreamircheska

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This review was posted on May/26/23
Reviewed by pazkou

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This review was posted on Jun/5/23
Reviewed by labia_1903

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This review was posted on Jun/7/23
Reviewed by tawhida

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This review was posted on Jun/9/23
Reviewed by suma303755

SM

iii

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This review was posted on Jul/2/23
Reviewed by hinaspatel

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This review was posted on Jul/19/23
Reviewed by sarah1409

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This review was posted on Aug/10/23 (Evening)
Reviewed by rupalrao
RR

This review was posted on Aug/18/23
Reviewed by qeilisha

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This review was posted on Sep/9/23
Reviewed by nusratjahan603

This chapter from the novel provides an intriguing and atmospheric exploration of an
underground tunnel, highlighting the dynamics between the two characters, the eerie
environment, the changing time and the sense of tension that gradually builds.

Let's decode this chapter:

**Setting and Atmosphere**: The chapter effectively sets the scene in a remote and desolate
location with the concrete sewer, manhole, and underground tunnel. The descriptions create
a sense of isolation and foreboding, which adds to the overall atmosphere of the narrative.

**Adventure** It's the 7th adventure of the protagonist and his buddy. Starting from
backyard, to woods, to thorns, to old concrete house and now in an underground tunnel.
The purpose of these adventures is to escape from the real world, from people and hiding
from the problems of life, and from relationships of man. (In my opinion)

**Character Highlights**: Some new qualities of narrator and Peter 's are highlighted
in this chapter of the novel. The narrator seems more adventurous and comfortable in
this eerie environment, while Peter is portrayed as anxious and uneasy. This contrast
in character traits adds depth to the story making it more original and also creates
tension and humor between them.

**Symbolism**: The manhole cover propped against the tree, the growth of the tree over the
sewer cap, and the underground tunnel itself could be interpreted as symbols. They may symbolize
the passage of time, the encroachment of nature over man-made structures, or the unknown and
potentially dangerous aspects of the world. Two distinguish nature's of characters can also be taken
as symbols. Peter eagerness to see sun when he is trapped in a dark tunnel represents people with
hope and light although is in devastated state but still he wants to live in a society where there is
sun and people. On the other hand we see that narrator is kind of adventurous and also notices that
he likes these kind of places because he want to find solitude. It seems like he is fighting a battle
*in and with* his own self that's why in outer world he wants to find place with silence and calmness.
The fear of seeing the monster even when this is not a new place for them, they know that there is no
such thing but still being afraid of it. It shows the fear of nature and fate which is unpredictable.

These symbols majorly contribute to the overall themes and mood of the story.

**Foreshadowing**: The chapter uses foreshadowing to hint at potential dangers
or mysteries in the underground tunnel. The characters' unease and the mention
of a "monster" create suspense and anticipation, keeping the reader engaged.

**Dialogue**: The dialogue between the characters is well-crafted. It not only reveals
their personalities but also adds humor and realism to the narrative. The dialogues also
tells about the familiarity of characters with each other and with their surroundings.

**Narrative Voice**: The first-person narrative allows readers to connect with the protagonist's
thoughts and emotions, creating a personal and immersive reading experience. The narrator's
inner monologue provides insight into their perspective and fears.

**Themes**: While this chapter doesn't explicitly state its themes, it touches on themes
such as fear, the passage of time, and the unknown. It leaves room for interpretation and
encourages readers to think about the deeper meaning of the events and surroundings.

In summary, this chapter effectively creates an eerie and suspenseful atmosphere, explores the
dynamics between the characters, and uses symbolism and foreshadowing to engage the reader's
imagination. It sets the stage for further exploration and reveals aspects of the characters' personalities.

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This review was posted on Oct/21/23
Reviewed by ritikagoyal587

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This review was posted on Feb/10/23
Reviewed by mariya

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This review was posted on Mar/4/24
Reviewed by sababaloch292

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This review was posted on Mar/15/24
Reviewed by adeeba

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PG 92) Nara deer and cherry blossoms manhole cover - http://Japancovers.com/39dvl9d

PG 92) Ta Prohm (Jungle Temple) - http://tinyurl.com/39dvl9d

PG 92) Access shaft in the east arm of the Belt Line Sewer, Toronto - http://tinyurl.com/mpewphp

PG 93) Bookland by Christos Karapanos - http://tinyurl.com/6ms8ne7

PG 93) Mind tricks by Christos Karapanos - http://tinyurl.com/6ms8ne7

PG 94) vintage Jolly Rancher water melon stix - http://JollyRancher.com/39dvl9d

PG 94) Cornucopia by Anna Schegoleva - http://AnnaSchegoleva.com/

PG 94) Diogenes by John William Waterhouse - http://tinyurl.com/pxbpbw

PG 94) Moe Howard from Idiots deluxe, released on July 20, 1945 - http://www.threestooges.com/

PG 94) Hunted by Danny Ciampa - http://tinyurl.com/jw3mzp9

PG 94) Pensive unrest by Mike Worrell - http://tinyurl.com/yewvh7g

PG 95) Crimson by Audre A - http://tinyurl.com/lv7l9ng

PG 95) The sour apple - What goes around comes around by Charles Hunt - http://tinyurl.com/pperw98

PG 95) Crossroads by Philip Straub - http://tinyurl.com/l9xkmbd

PG 95) Access shaft in the west arm of the Belt Line Sewer, Toronto - http://tinyurl.com/mpewphp