A FIRST FEAR

I was in 3rd or maybe 4Th grade at Pipkin elementary school so many years ago. I was like so many young kids of that time and to a larger extent, today's times. I had a male classmate who's name escapes me to this day whom I enjoyed talking with. He often told stories of wonder and excitement and his imagination was without end. Being mischievous and curious I listened with amazement. One autumn day he told me of a magical place where you could ride horses and eat all the candy you wanted and that he often went there. Well, I wanted in too. I managed to convince him to take me with him to this place after school and he finally relented. As memory serves me, we left with that glorious sound of the last school bell signaling the end of yet another boring school day. I recall we went walking along Pine St. past the water tower and just blocks from school. There was a tiny street(not much more than an alley)where we turned and went down. He led me to a place just off the road slightly into the edge of the woods. There was this hugh whole in the ground where workmen had dug only recently or maybe even that day. I knew because they had placed the smudge pots around it as a safety warning (as was the custom during that time). As we stood there peering into this enormous abyss, he told me that we had to get down into it and we'd be almost at the magical place. Being so excited to be almost there I started down and slipped and continued falling into this large hole. Before I knew it I was at the bottom and noticed that I was alone as he had not followed me. I got to my feet and yelled to him to come down and join me but I received no reply and could not see him at the top. After a few minutes of looking around this large muddy pit I now found myself in, I tried to climb out. But I could not get a grip on the sides of the damp muddy walls of this place. The harder I tried the more I slipped back down and was really getting my tennis shoes and socks wet and muddy as well as my blue jeans and shirt. I continued yelling and screaming to my friend or anyone but only silence. After about an hour or so of trying to free myself from this prison, I realized for the first time in my young life what the fear of dying was like. There I was stuck in this deep hole and I could see with each passing minute as the bright autumn sunlight faded and the temperature dropped that no one would be coming to my rescue. There I sat in the mud crying and too exhausted to holler out or even try to free myself any longer. I now resigned myself to the reality that I would die there that night because my grandmother, with whom I lived, had no way of knowing where I was or where to find me. I recall dozing off to a brief sleep but the cold and wetness were at odds with any slumbering.Then out of the darkness I heard a voice, a very welcoming voice. It was that familiar sound of my grandmother yelling my name as she did so many times at dusk to rein us children inside. I managed to get to my feet and began yelling back as loud as my little crackling voice could . "I'm here". "I'm here", "down here". Then there she was, barely visible at the top of that dark hole saying, " we are putting down a rope for you". Within a few minutes I was being pulled up out of that hell by my grandmother and Miss Emma and to freedom. They drove me home and I just knew I was in for the worst whipping of my life but it never happened. My grandmother gave me a bath and told me to never ever go with anyone on my way home from school without her knowing. I thought I was going to die that night but I could not possibly have known the horror that that woman had gone through that afternoon in her mind. had he run off? was he hurt somewhere? Had a truckload of 'night riders'(local KKK groups from nearby Vidor, Texas)picked him up and murdered him?.. That was my first fear. It was a constant one for her and many other parents.
Have any of you a recollection of a first fear in your life? If so, I'd love to hear about it.