Dark and Light

15 Minute Write

It was around five minutes in when Eve realised, in hindsight, that she’d been hit with a panic attack. At the time, she thought it was something far more sinister. On the hottest day of the year so far, she found herself in this cold, musky-smelling dark tunnel, sweating like she was out in the full midday sun. Her flesh was goosebumpy, and, strangely, the sweat was cold, whereas she felt like she was running a temperature. It was somewhere between fever and the worst hangover she’d ever had. But under these physical symptoms, there lurked something else. An emptiness, a hopelessness, a feeling of death-or what she assumed death might feel like.

How had this family trip to the beach brought her to this point? What had been the cause of such dark and sinister emotions? She was annoyed, for sure, having to go back to the car for a forgotten bucket and spade. Why was it always her responsibility to remember these things? It was nothing, she knew, but she had been arguing with her husband in the car on the way. Why did they have to come so far when the beach locally would have been more than enough enjoyment for the girls? They’d probably be bored in half an hour anyway. He never saw these things - he never really thought of anyone but himself. All HE wanted was somewhere to take his precious photographs. She wished she had time for hobbies.

And that new camera? Why was there money for that whilst the bathroom was full of mould and falling apart? She had given up asking him to do something about it, only getting one of his ‘I work all week’ kind of glares. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t work. Sure, she brought in a fraction of what he did, but she did contribute and just because her job wasn’t ‘important’ it didn’t mean that it didn’t also stress her out, in fact just this week her boss had warned her that she was looking like she’d miss her deadlines and that ‘wouldn’t bode well for her’ - she wasn’t sure how to take that. Was he insinuating that she could do something about that, or had she just been reading too many stories in the press about harassment? Men nowadays never leave you alone. A guy had leered at her in this tunnel just before her attack - but he was in his 80s and probably harmless - someone’s lost dad or something.

She stood and took deep breaths. What was it about breathing into a brown paper bag in these situations? She’d end up looking like a glue sniffer, and what with her pallid complexion - her arms HAD turned a ghostly bluey white - people would probably think that she was on drugs - not that there was anyone down here in this tunnel. She needed to push on through and get to the open, get to the beach and her girls. Yet her legs didn’t feel like they were up to the task. Who would build a tunnel to a beach anyway? Bloody Victorians, always needing an engineering challenge. Right through a massive cliff to save them from having to climb over or go around. All this soil and weight above - how did these bricks hold all of that mass back? There were cracks all over the place, it could all come tumbling down at any moment.

She cupped her hands and imagined they were a brown paper bag, taking breaths through them. The old man who she thought was leering at her passed by arm in arm with a younger, handsome guy who was clearly his son - he could barely walk - perhaps he was suffering from a panic attack too? Maybe this tunnel brought them on.

After a couple of minutes, she felt confidence return to her legs and managed to shuffle out of the tunnel and into the bright atomic light of the sun and its reflection off the pure sand.

As she reached the mouth of the tunnel, she felt the weight lift, and now she was outside; the panic attack had passed. Looking across the stretch of beach, she saw her girls posing for a photograph, another gorgeous memory that her husband captured so beautifully. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself inside.

Smugglers Tunnel, Shaldon, Devon. 2025. Nikon Z8