DESCENT
The pot-hole beckoned, open-mouthed, willing me to enter. I peered over the rim; low sun lit one side down to about 80 feet and the other side was almost in darkness. I tied off the rope to the cast iron ring embedded into concrete near the edge. Behind me, the rest of the men wanted to tie off their ropes and drop down into the gaping hole. I knew I wasn't as confident as they were, yet I had chosen to go first, though I would have accepted any offer to change places and perhaps go last. I gave them a half wave and took a breath before checking the rope loops. Now I was ready to go and how fast I descended was up to me. I leaned back, took the strain and kicked out from the rocks. At first I dropped like a stone, in free-fall, but then slowed up as I activated the speed control. The rope was good, it would take more than me to snap it. At 200 feet I felt the hard floor of the pothole and heard the others dropping down too, together we’d go and look for my missing little girl.