It was too dark to see, and I fell. And broke my leg. It's not a hole I fell into because I can see light at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. At least I can see, now that I've fallen, and there's light shining through in opening ahead.
But the fall was far, and my left ankle is broken. You would think there would be some tree branches, or something to use as crutches, I know there is somewhere on the island; but I'd need crutches to search!
And I fell underground, my home at Marvella might as well be a hundred miles away.
Lord, I am not worthy that I should be saved.
I am for sure nothing but dirt and dust if I cannot find a way back home. I don't have to worry about Bijou starving, she has plenty of food, now that the smoking fire has died down.
At the moment, it hurts too much to move.
I find myself talking more to the dead now than when I attended parochial school. But it's better than talking to myself. I was told it doesn't make any difference talking to the dead. I don't known Grann; it makes me feel closer to them. Talking gives me hope. Giving up hope makes me sad. And sad hurts.
