A Way Out (part 1)

I close my eyes and sense a pitch black room...
or prison chamber.
Pressing my palms against the cold stone walls,
I feel my way through the dark
hoping to lay my hands on a door knob.

I feel the creases between the stones;
in some places the mortar is cracked and crumbling,
but otherwise, the wall is solid.
In a short while, I have circled the room,
its circumference is only a few paces;
no more than ten.
I make my way around a few more times,
varying how high I place my hands.
It comes to nothing.

The only other way out that comes to mind
is through the floor.
Kneeling carefully, I blindly continue my search
with my fingers meticulously feeling out every inch.
At long last I feel a small crevice
and gently glide my finger along it;
it turns a corner, then another one.
Using my left hand,
I begin hunting for the metal ring typically found on trap doors.

Aha!
Found it at last.
Still grasping the ring,
now with both hands,
I gradually climb to my feet and pull up hard.
It's unusually heavy.
I return to my knees, relax, and try again
with more muscle, more might.
Ever so slowly, the trap door begins to move.
When I get it high enough,
I give it a final massive shove
and it clatters satisfyingly against the dusty floor.

Looking down, I still can't see.
But I hear the unmistakable
echoing sound of water drip dripping
to a shallow pool below.
Sitting down with my feet in the hole,
I briefly search for a ladder of some kind
below the lip of the trap door.
I am not surprised when I don't find one.
Resigned to an unpredictable jump,
I grab onto the edge, let my feet dangle a bit
and then, with a prayer, release my grip.
While weightless in the air,
I draw my knees up just a little,
to spare them from the jolting impact.
I land in a crouch with a splash.

Hoping to see some sign of light,
I pause, staring into the blackness.
Nothing.
But I hear something new.
A strained, distant voice;
the voice of a child.