THE TAR PIT

THE TAR PIT

It had the most beautiful, glistening sheen reflecting off it from the sunshine above it.  And, it seemed to slowly but rhythmically writhe and sensuously but smoothly stir about?!  The smell of it was heavy but intoxicating, like some sort of musky aroma.  And warmth radiated from it, drawing me forward.

 

I stood at a distance, in the meadow, watching it for a while.  The colorful flowers around me began to fade in glory as I stared at the black, glimmering tar pit, nearly ogling.  They were so fragile and delicate and temporary.  The tar pit seemed so strong and even empowering, if not overpowering?!  The sweet melodies of the song birds were overcome by its earthy, raspy murmur.  It sometimes seemed like I could see human-like forms disappearing into its depths.  But, I imagined that it was somehow part of the allure, some sort of magic well worth the price of admission!

 

I told myself that it would not hurt to carefully ease near and just touch it with the tip of my pointer finger.  But, I swear, the tar gurgled and belched up, and swallowed my whole hand, like an old friend that I never really liked nor trusted.  I snatched back my hand, but it was enveloped with a thick blob of black goo.

 

I sat down in the lifeless, gravel-rock pile surrounding the tar pit, trying to clean off my hand.  But, I only succeeded in getting the black stickiness all over me.  And, now it was getting cold as the sun faded over the horizon.  So, I moved closer to the warm, steamy, oozing tar pit.

 

I awoke in the middle of the night, with a warm sensation in my feet.  I had somehow, in my sleep, rolled over into the tar pit.  The warmth must have drawn me?!  I was so cold.  I foolishly decided to sit in the tar pit, like a warm bath, to fight off the cold surrounding me.

 

As I sat there, I could begin to feel body forms around and beneath me.  An incredibly, anxious fear gripped me like the tar around me.  There was no way out!  I was in up to my neck!  Soon I would be in over my head?!

 

Along came my brother.  But, I was ashamed for him to find me in such a mess.  So, I just sat there and whistled like everything was great.  But, he walked over, and immediately saw my predicament, like it was some flashback nightmare.  Trying not to alarm me, He asked what he could do.  It is a blur, but somehow he got me out!

 

It has been months now.  Most of my skin has healed.  Some of my hair has grown back.  I am so embarrassed.  Some people just stare; but, others look away, in disgust and/or disbelief.  “Maybe I should just go back to the tar pit?” I begin to think!

 

My brother came by to visit and he did the strangest thing – he took off his shoes and socks, and then rolled up his pants legs.  He showed me scars that were half-way to his knees, either from rescuing me, or from some previous mistake in his life!  He told me, “Do NOT get anywhere near that stuff!  I may not be there to get you out next time, or may not be able to get you out!”  But, somehow the tar pit can still be heard whispering my name?!  Maybe I will just walk over the hill so that I can just smell it?