My Own Purple Crayon....The Story of My Adventure

In which She falls down the groundhog hole and resurfaces...where?
  1. 1.
    "Where am I?" It's dark and damp. The smell of earth and occasional bruising of red rock, jagged and cold.
    Oh geez it's the damned ground hog AGAIN.
  2. 2.
    He ( or She?-how to tell them apart?) plagues my garden efforts.
    Nibbles the shoots. Tastes the odd flower. Gobbles them down.
  3. 3.
    King Whistlepig! My backyard nemesis!
  4. 4.
    I spied him through my window, sitting up straight and regal, on the back mound.
    Lord of the Green: He sniffs the air, seemingly honing in on the recent additions. "Damn him!" I seethe and grab the rake.A call to arms! Defend my few flowers!
  5. 5.
    That's when I go down. His escape route becomes my misery.
    The hole swallows my foot, my leg. I spiral through the earth, a human corkscrew heading for this animals dark kingdom.
  6. 6.
    My rake lies in the yard, far from my grasp. I grope, unarmed.
    Below and alone there is nothing left but to follow the tunnel. Down and down and twisting and turning.
  7. 7.
    Into the Hall of Marmota Monax!
    His chucklings gather round and squeak at me: "More plants! More plants!" It's useless to fight the mob. I promise them whatever they want.
  8. 8.
    I awake, above ground- thank God (hours later? Days?). Stained with clay, sputtering gravel.
    I once was a gardener for my own pleasure. No more.