Void

There you are, going about your business in the underground--not hurting anyone not even the purpley bugs that keep trying to remind you they were here first--a massive hole just opens up in the ground, right in your home! It opened up and now it's just there, hanging out, taking up most of the floor. Damn thing isn't very considerate.

So you try to do what you normally do on normal days but of course it's not normal anymore because there's a giant fucking hole in the middle of the floor so now all that you normally do on normal days involves a lot more edging and dancing around on your tiptoes. Try to get some food, gotta walk around the hole first. Need to meed your bathroom needs, make sure you're on the side of the room where the bathroom connects or else you won't make it there. And you don't even think about meeting your bathroom needs in the hole because that's just plain unsanitary.

You stare at it and it stares at you. Of course it wins every time because isn't a pupil a hole anyway? That makes your wonder if maybe all this edging and dancing around on your tiptoes that you've been doing has been on one huge iris around one huge pupil. In any case, it's hard to avoid the hole and you worry occasionally that you'll edge and dance right into the hole itself if you don't concentrate enough. Suddenly being holed up in the underground became significantly less relaxing. Too bad it's already nightfall outside and everyone knows that there are strange predatory things out there where it's more cold than hot and the closest train tracks are high above the ground and don't host crazy siamese boxcars. None that you've seen, anyway.

Next Time

It stabs into your brain, and all you can see is sparks.

Over and over, like it's probing for something, like you could have hidden something in there one purpose just to spite it, but it's still poking around so you don't know what the fuck.

I mean, you broke your head open last night, and something fell out and splat on the ground, so wasn't that it? It keeps stabbing, trying to find whatever you might have hidden from it. Because apparently you're trying to hide something from an inanimate probe.

Before you know it, you're hundreds of miles away, and the train tracks and siamese boxcars and appendages are nowhere in sight. The heat of the ground long dissipated, though once you lived in the sky you now call underground your home. Too bad the bugs got there first because now they won't leave you alone, not even long enough to make a sandwich. You try to get rid of them but they leave a bright purple stain in the wall so you never forget that they were there first.

An avalanche could start at any moment because you won't bother to clear the rocks. You waited too long and now one has gone through your head. Guess how it found its way in?

All the while you emerge from underground occasionally but don't bother trying to fight its gravitational field. Too bad it will inevitably seal you in when the ground turns to ice and all you can see are tiny little points that stick together one on top of the other until all you can see are the insides of your own eyeballs. Try living with that.

And it continues to drill.