I had a strange childhood. Most children spent their summers shooting basketball, going to camp, watching television, or playing video games. I spent my summers digging holes. There was a spot between the shed and the neighbor’s fence. It was a little spot tucked out of the way. There was no grass there. I could dig and dig without tearing up the yard. I think my dad was the one who gave me the idea to dig holes there. I guess he thought a shovel would be a better role model than he could ever be. Besides, the backyard sloped toward that corner of the yard. A river of water and soil would fill in my hole after a few summer thunderstorms. I think my dad realized my Sisyphean task would keep me occupied indefinitely. Not that I complained. I enjoyed digging. I was working with my hands and I could see immediate results of my hard work.One year we had a particularly dry summer. I got to dig and dig. Days went by. I stopped only to sleep and to eat. It did not take long for the hole to become deeper than I was tall. I kept digging. I borrowed my Dad’s ladder to get in and out of the hole.
One particularly hot day, I spent the whole day just digging. I flung shovelfuls of dirt up and over the edge of the hole for hours. The sun was setting. I climbed a rope back to the top. I went inside the house and got a bucket and a flashlight. Under the illumination of that tiny incandescent bulb, I filled my bucket with dirt, climbed up the rope, and dumped the bucket onto the dirt pile. Soon the dirt pile was taller than the shed. I had become determined. I wanted to see how deep I could make this hole.
Then I noticed the ground shift. I was gradually sinking. Then the dirt beneath my feet gave way. I grabbed the rope just in time. I tried climbing up but I was too weak from those hours of digging. I was terrified to look down. My feet were dangling in the air. Then I heard a voice.
“What is this Mary?”
“Why, it appears to be a human boy?”
I looked around. Strangely I could see. There was plenty of light in the hole now. Then I saw them. Two pterodactyls.
“Mary, what should we do about this?”
“Margret, I think we should take him to Archbishop Douglas.”
Margret grabbed me with her beak. I struggled but she managed to pull me from the rope. My fists were swinging madly in a vain attempt to break free.
“Now little one,” she said to me. “I don’t think you want me to let you go. Just look down.”
I was scared of heights and was trying not to look down. I already knew I was high up. But, like a kid with a fork drawn to an electrical outlet, I knew I had to look. I looked down. Below me was the largest drop I had ever seen. I was scared, but excited. Now this was a hole. Above me was a ceiling of dirt, rocks, and tree roots. At the very bottom was a light. It felt warm like the sun, but it was not as bright.
In the distance were floating islands of rock and dirt. Margret and Mary took me to one of the largest of the floating islands. The top of the island was covered in a tropical forest. In the middle of the island stood a large stone castle. We flew into one of the castle’s oversized windows. Margret plopped me in the middle of a large gallery. The two winged creatures flew away. I heard them say something about getting pedicures. I walked around the enormous room. The walls were covered in paintings of various dinosaurs dressed in robes and crowns. “Are these really dinosaurs?” I thought to myself. “How long have they been here?” I saw a large figure approach from an adjacent room.
“Welcome, welcome!” exclaimed the creature. I recognized him from school. He was a brontosaurus. I would later find out that brontosauruses never really existed. I don’t care what they say. This was a brontosaurus, and he was wearing a crown. “What is your name?”
“My name is Bryan,” I told him. I knew I was not supposed to talk to strangers, but I had a feeling Mom would not mind me talking to a stranger if he was a talking dinosaur in a crown. “Where am I?”
“You are in my kingdom beneath the surface world. Welcome to the Moho Realm. I am Archbishop Douglas.”
“Are you a dinosaur?”
He laughed at my question. “Of course I am. Are you a human?”
“Yes sir.”
“Say, how did you get here?”
“I was digging a hole in my backyard when I accidently found myself here. Those two pterodactyls brought me here.”
“You were just digging in your backyard and you found your way to the Moho Realm?” He chuckled to himself. “We have kept our existence here a secret for nearly 65 million years, and then a small human boy stumbles into our dominion.”
“In school they told me you all died when a meteor hit the Earth.”
“That’s what our ancestors told Lenny. ‘Oh no! There is a giant meteor heading this way and we are all gonna die. Ahh!’ That stupid plesiosaur bought it. When he swam back home to hide under his bed, our ancestors dug a tunnel to the planet’s core and we have been hiding here ever since.”
“But why would they tell Lenny that -”
“Nobody really liked Lenny. He talked too much and smelled like archaeopteryx poo. Little human, we dinosaurs are fearful of direct confrontation. So we just decided to avoid him by hiding out here.”
“How do you know Lenny is still around?” I asked.
“Well … we don’t. Some say they have seen him hiding in a lake somewhere, but none of us want to venture back to the surface only to find out Lenny is still around. Then we have to explain everything to him, and talk about your awkward situations!”
A stegosaurus in gold plated armor approached Archbishop Douglas.
“Sir, the rains are fast approaching,” he proclaimed. “We need to return the boy to the surface realm.”
The Archbishop whistled and Margret and Mary returned.
“I need you two to take our visitor back to the hole before the rainwater fills it in.”
Margret grabbed me in her beak and we sped away. I could hear Archbishop Douglas tell me, “Come back soon young Bryan!” The roar of thunder rattled the dirt ceiling above us. We did not have much time. Marget and Mary beat their wings as fast as they could. When Margret’s wings started to give out, she passed me to Mary. We could see the hole. Not much further. Some rain was dripping in from the opening. “We’ll never make it!” Margret cried out.
Then I woke up. I was at the bottom of the hole beside the shed. It was dark and raining. I reached down and could feel dirt and mud. Was I dreaming? I staggered to my feet and slowly climbed the rope out of the hole. Mom gave me a thorough lecture about tracking mud into the house. I washed up and crawled into bed.
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