Ghost of Icarus

	Sign In Sign-Up

Man in the Hole

When you’re down in the dumps, and feel that there’s nothing to bring you up again, there’s always an optimistic fact that you can remind yourself any time. No matter what happens to you, no matter what you lose and how much you hurt, you’ll always be better off than the Man in the Hole. You can remember that as miserable as you may be, there is no life that is more problematic and difficult than the life lived by the Man in the Hole. No matter what, you’re better than the Man in the Hole. You look better than him. You surpass him in every skill. You are perfect in any talent. Thank the Gods you aren’t the Man in the Hole.
The Man in the Hole lives south of the Village, and south of the Kingdom. He lives south of everything. There’s only one direction to walk to if you seek the Man in the Hole—you don’t even have to follow the smell. The Man lives in the Hole south of the Kingdom. He’s too poor to build himself a door. He lives off the turnips and cabbage that grows through his ceiling. He dresses in rags and sleeps under a burlap bag. He makes a living by the shoulder on his shoulder, the spade used to dig his Hole. His beard is long and black; his eyes are wild and dark. The Man in the Hole doesn’t say much, and only speaks when spoken to; but nobody speaks to the Man in the Hole. He used to preach by the Bible, but threw it out when we burned the church. He used to warn us from doing anything bad, but do it himself when we ignored him and went ahead with our actions. We grew up with the Man in the Hole, when he was equal like one of us.
But now he is the Man of the Hole, and no matter what, you’ll always be better than him.
The Man in the Hole is a digger. He digs trenches for war, and graves for the dead. He digs the moles out of our yards, and digs in our gardens to till the soil. For a nickel, he’ll give you a hole of a meter. For a dime, he’ll dig three more. The Man in the Hole doesn’t complain; you could laugh at him, spit in his face, and tease him until the setting of the sun. The Man in the Hole doesn’t flinch; without us, he wouldn’t exist. He is hurt by nothing.
But we found a way to hurt him, and we do it every chance we get, because we are better than him. The Man in the Hole stands outside his Hole, shovel over his shoulder. He watches me walk by, proud and flamboyant in my long velvet robes. He watches my wife in her silk gown and diamond earrings. He watches my children in their white knickers with ivory buttons. We walk by, and we look forward. And the Man in the Hole cries, because though we are always better than him, he hates it when we pretend he isn’t there. The Man in the Hole, in spite of being the lowest of the bunch, hates to be left out. He hates the ignorance and neglect, and he hates being forgotten. He hates being left out of social circles, and never being invited to royal parties, and having no friends.
He values his life more than all the pain he feels. Even when we ran him out of town, into that turnip and cabbage patch, he wanted to live. When we told his old friends they couldn’t see him any more, and made them hate instead of love, he wanted to live. After we killed his dog, his last companion, and ate his entrails, he wanted to live. When we sealed the only people he cared about in a fortress of stone walls even he couldn’t dig through, he wanted to live.
That Fool, that Man in the Hole…
One night came Mercury out of the sky. He set foot down on the turnip and cabbage patch the Man in the Hole lived under. The Man in the Hole came out of his Hole and went onto the turnip and cabbage patch. He saw the deity before him, and fell to his knees.
“Messenger of the Heavens,” cried the Man in the Hole. “Why have you come to me? I am nothing of worth!”
“Man in the Hole,” spoke the mighty god. “You have no name that is remembered by anybody alive, even yourself. Now your identity seeks to follow your name, and you will be forgotten altogether. You will never be remembered, and when you die, your Hole will be your Grave, and nobody will weep, because they have forgotten you ever lived.”
At this, the Man in the Hole fell on his face in a fit of sobs and groveling.
“To your feet, Man in the Hole,” spoke Mercury, again. “Your time of repentance is upon you. You have your opportunity to regain your former pride, along with your old friends and lost wealth. You will be a king, if you listen to me.”
“How will I regain my former name?” asked the Man in the Hole, coming to his knees.
“You must go on a quest, Man in the Hole,” continued mighty Mercury. “South of your Hole is the Mountain, where a demon slumbers. He brews a mighty volcano to sweep this Kingdom into a zone of fire and destruction. Only you have the wits and intelligence to stop the maddened creature from killing your friends and neighbors.”
“But how am I that strong?” pleaded the Man in the Hole. “How will I vanquish this demon and save my Kingdom? I am closer to nothing than anything else. Where will I find the strength?”
“You must find your head, Man in the Hole,” said the mighty Mercury. “Or your Kingdom will pay the price of your shame.”
With that, Mercury opened his wings and zipped into the sky, faster than lightning. The Man in the Hole sat on his turnip and cabbage patch, weeping with hopelessness and ignorance. He stayed there until morning, when he finally came to his feet. Frightened and alone, the Man in the Hole put the shovel onto his shoulder and began going up the Mountain south of the Hole.
For a week he traveled without food and water. Animals did not inhabit the woods so close to the demon’s Mountain. Water had run dry because of the building heat in the volcano’s furnace. Fighting exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, the Man in the Hole continued up the slope of the Mountain. He continued on when the forest ended into a grassy hill. He continued when the grass became stone. He continued when the stone became snow. And finally, he came to the apex of the Mountain, unsure of what to do next.
“I am here, Demon,” he spoke. “In the name of the Gods, I will not allow you to hurt my friends!”
Then a mighty voice spoke from under him. The ground shook, and he was sent rolling down the cragged side of the Mountain, bruised and beaten. The Demon of the Mountain cackled and showed its stony face in the mountainside. Its snout was twenty meters, its eyes a greedy emerald green. Its teeth looked like they could cut through anything. Its grin promised and lied, trusted and betrayed.
“You are weak, Man in the Hole,” replied the Demon. “You can’t stop me.”
“I will stop you!” uttered the Man in the Hole, shaking his shovel high over his head.
“You may win,” the Demon retorted. “But who will know? Will your friends care? Do they know you are their last hope? Will they never know of your triumph?”
“I am here to regain their respect and trust,” spoke the Man in the Hole with a streak of courage. “I will rid you of this earth, and they will praise me as their hero.”
With a roaring command, the Demon brought forth his minions. Gnomes, golems, and stony creatures came from the caves, roaring and cackling, thirsting for his human blood. Outnumbered, the Man in the Hole turned and ran. The monsters of the Mountain Demon pursued, shaking the earth as they rolled. They came with gravity, but he was faster.
When he reached the base of the Mountain, the Man in the Hole saw them coming. He had to think of something fast. Then an idea came. Donning his mighty shovel, the Man in the Hole began to dig. He dug faster than ever before. He dug with all the speed and energy of a hundred pirates digging for a buried treasure. He dug with the tenacity and endurance of a dozen dogs resurfacing their bones. He dug until he had dug the largest hole ever, fifty meters wide and a hundred deep. Though tired, hungry, and thirsty, the Man in the Hole had finished his work.
Then he watched as the earth shook and a rumbling filled the air. Piece by piece, the side of the Mountain came apart, forming gnomes, golems, stonemen, and dwarves of irate tempers. They came until the core of the Mountain itself was left standing red and hot against the sky. The armies of stone came, the Demon ahead of them all, like a rocky river coming down the hills and forests. Then as they reached the Man in the Hole, they fell.
The Demon went first, his bestial face turning into an expression of shock and panic as gravity pulled him to the bottom. And everything that was the Mountain followed, piece by piece. Gnomes, golems, stonemen, and dwarves alike followed in stampede, falling into the hole at the base of the hills one by one. They kept coming until the last of what used to be the rock surface of the Mountain come tumbling down. They filled the hole dug by the Man in the Hole to the brim, leaving a stone pool at his feet.
Then, to the horror of the Man in the Hole, he saw the core of the Mountain leak away and turn to liquid. There seemed to be oceans of hot molten lava burned through the grasslands and forests, on a deadly path toward the Kingdom the Man in the Hole promised to defend.
Without a word, the Man in the Hole spat and put his shovel to the earth again. Once again, he began to dig. He dug his way from east due west, digging as the sun rose and set. He dug with the speed and energy of a million ants finding harbor for their queen. He dug with the tenacity and endurance of a hundred miners freeing children trapped in a collapsed mineshaft. He dug the longest trench ever, twenty meters across and spanning to either horizon. With the weight of the world on his back, the Man in the Hole finished his work.
The river of fire came, burning everything in its path. Then it disappeared as it filled the trench at his feet. The lava seeped in and filled the trench like a massive red waterfall. It looked like tomato soup spilling over the edge of a table. The seeping hot lava poured into the long trench he had dug with his shovel and hands, until it was filled to the brim. And as the Man in the Hole looked across the horizon, he saw that no Mountain was left standing. And he stood victorious.
From the heavens boomed the voice of the Mighty Mercury: “Well done, Man in the Hole! You have saved your Kingdom! Now return home, and reacquaint yourself with your society!”
Elated from the bottom of his heart, the Man in the Hole scooped his trusty spade over his shoulder and bounded on his way. He ran into the Kingdom, passing by his quite Hole, and ran into the Village, ready to be welcomed with open arms. The Man in the Hole came in cheering and roaring, though not an eye looked up.
“I have done it!” cried the Man in the Hole. “I have saved you all from the Mountain! I am ready to be your friend again! I am ready to be one of you!”
He stood at the center of the Village, in his shabby clothes and graceless posture. There wasn’t an eye that didn’t look at his shrunken, beaten form. Then they laughed at him, because he was the Man in the Hole.
“It doesn’t matter who you save,” they laughed. “You are still the Man in the Hole, and we will always be better than you!”
The Man in the Hole felt his heart sink. His effort had been wasted, and his triumph was worthless. He stood amid the banter for several long moments in confusion and despair, unsure of what had happened. He couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t be loved and cherished by all for his noble deed. He had saved them from oblivion, and still, nobody cared. Even if he had saved them, they still treated him as though he were nothing.
“If that’s how you’ll have it, then,” cried the Man in the Hole, anger surging through his veins. “I will dig a causeway from the trench of lava, and burn this Kingdom to the ground!”
“You won’t do any such thing,” laughed the people of the crowd. “You would never endanger your friends. It doesn’t matter what you do, because you’ll always be the Man in the Hole. Now run back to your Hole, Man in the Hole, because you do not exist!”
Grumbling and sobbing, the Man in the Hole left the village.
The Man in the Hole went back to his trench of fire. He put his shovel to the earth and began to dig. But he would not do what he said he would. They were right, because he would never endanger the lives of his friends, even if they kept them shrouded behind walls and curtains, segregating him from all society. But he could do something much worse.
He built his causeway, and continued to dig his way north, back into the Village, the river of lava slowly coming after him. Finally, he ended his path at the mouth of his hole. And he stood atop his hill, where nothing grew but turnips and cabbage, and throwing his mighty shovel into the sky, he roared his anger down to the people of the Kingdom. There wasn’t a soul that did not hear him as he let his voice ring out for the final time. With his primal scream sending his message, the Man in the Hole went back into his Hole, and later the lava followed.
From all around, the citizens of the Kingdom came to see the scene. The river of fire came and filled his Hole to the brim, and they realized he was in danger. But without a Man in the Hole, there would be nothing for them to be better than! One by one, the fools dove into the molten rock to save the lost Man in the Hole. One by one, the citizens of the Kingdom sank into the flame, desperate to save more than a man, but to save their precious pride and images.
Though everybody was burned in the hot molten slag, charred to ash, there’s a Man in the Hole in every great Kingdom. Every man alive has a chip on his shoulder and a prize to protect. Every man alive has a great need to stand above others. Every man alive, therefore, has a reason to kick and spit on the Man in the Hole.
But the day will one day come when the Man in the Hole comes out of his Hole, and does something that will one day change this world. And when you, who seek to elevate yourself above others, wake up on this day, you will face judgment. The fires of hell are controlled by the oppressed, and the hands of fate follow the eyes of the Man in the Hole.