"Skeleton, I thought, and stay very still, whatever it was will soon pass by and be gone." -Matthew Zapruder, from Come On All You Ghosts

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I want to go for a stroll, because the weather is particularly nice for this sort of autumn day, so I begin to climb the ladder out of my hole. I knew I was going up, because I was going towards the pinprick of light, and away from the stale, watery, fungal stench. That’s the only way of knowing, down here. I’m not sure if gravity works, down here. Every time I spit, it ends up hitting me in the face, no matter which direction I spit in. I climb and climb, but the pinprick never seems to get bigger, and the smell never goes away. I begin sweating from my brow, which inevitably gets into my eye, which blinds me, and which adds to the stench. Now blinded, and with the thick smell of sweat lingering by my nose, I’m truly lost, and all I know to do is to keep climbing my ladder. I’m going for a stroll, and there’s no looking back, now, and I all I can really hope is that they still have particularly nice autumn days up above.