Once upon a time, on an ordinary day of an ordinary week in an ordinary town, ordinary girl, Polly Plumstead, while walking down the street looking at her phone, fell into a hole.
It was a rather large hole, which measured around 15 feet deep and roughly 4 feet across. Many would wonder how it was that she hadn’t seen it there, but none the less, Polly had fallen in. After gathering her wits and realizing what had happened, she dusted herself off and began to cry for help.
Before long, a man on a tractor pulling a wagon heard her sobs and went to see if he could be of assistance. Upon seeing him Polly yelled up, “Oh please, can you help me, I’ve fallen into this hole?!” The man told her she was lucky because he just happened to have a long section of rope with him. “All you need to do is just hold on tightly, and I will pull you out,” the man instructed. Polly thought for a moment and then explained to him that she was far too weak to do that. “But I can tie a few knots in the end to make it easier for you,” the man yelled down. But Polly refused, telling him that she didn’t trust her own strength. “Don’t you at least want to try?” he asked again. Shaking her head, Polly thanked him for the offer and sent him on his way.
Realizing that her phone had also fallen into the hole, Polly began to take some selfies and posted several pictures and videos to her Facebook, and Instagram accounts describing her horrible ordeal. #InaHole.
Within minutes, friends were responding in disbelief to her situation and quickly began to spread the news.
During this time, a couple of house painters on break for lunch were passing by the hole. Curious, they stopped to look in and were surprised to find Polly there. Asking what happened, Polly once again told her story, only this time with slightly more drama. “Well, you are in luck!” said the painters. “We have a ladder down the street, and we can easily go and get it so you can climb out.” Polly, remembering her fear of heights, quickly told them that there was no way she could climb that high. It would simply be too much of a risk, and what would happen if she were to slip and fall again? Besides, her friends were on their way, and she couldn’t leave now. And so, the painters went about their day.
By now, Polly’s pictures and videos had gone viral. All over the world people were talking about Polly’s predicament. Go fund me pages were set up to raise money. Thoughts and prayers were sent out in droves, and helpful citizens began to make care packages… after all, she would need food, water, and battery backup for her phone. Oprah was contacted and came out of retirement to interview Polly to see how she felt about falling into the hole. Perhaps something in her childhood had subconsciously caused her to fall in the first place. The New York Times reported that someone “close to the hole” suspected that it had been placed there intentionally. Perhaps Russia had dug the hole. Conspiracy theorists claimed she had been pushed. CNN and Fox reported around the clock as their many experts debated whether or not holes should continue to exist, and maybe we should fill them all in. A group of protestors formed a picket line, claiming that a hole of this size shouldn’t be called “a hole,” but in fact should be called “a Pit,” while others claimed it was unfair to label any holes at all. President Trump tweeted out that it was crooked Hillary’s fault that holes existed in the first place. #LockHerUp.
Polly had never felt so important! For the first time in as long as she remembered, she felt alive. Polly couldn’t believe how friendly and helpful everyone had been, and if she were to be honest, she secretly liked the attention. After all, being in the hole wasn’t so bad, Polly had everything she needed. She couldn’t imagine her life before the fall. Her regular, everyday, ordinary life.
Eventually, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months until all that remained were a few stragglers who would sit around playing their guitars reminiscing about holes they had once fallen in to. It seemed everyone had moved on to something more exciting and current.
Polly had also grown weary of being in the hole and was wondering if she would ever get out. It was then that a mother and young son who were out for a walk came upon the hole. The little boy stood at the edge, and without saying a word stretched out his arm and pointed to an area behind Polly. He just stood there, quietly pointing. One by one, the others began to look, all of them staring at the spot where the boy was focused. Then Polly turned around, and right there in front of her, was a door.
Had it been there all along?! How could she have not seen it? How had no-one else noticed it? Polly slowly reached out and turned the knob. The door opened into the underground water maintenance area for the city. Just inside was a flight of stairs. In a haze of disbelief, Polly climbed the stairs and exited out onto the street. As she made her way home, she thought that maybe this time, she would choose a different road.
Life can be like this. Many times we are so caught up in our stories and our drama that we can’t accept the help we need or see a way out, even if it’s right in front of us. It doesn’t have to remain that way.
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