We lived in a room above the water, with gaps in the floor and exposed planks.

You could see right through. The water was dark green, and it swirled and boiled.

At night you could hear it move, and hear the creatures in there.

The paper hung from the walls, exposing weird scribbles and hieroglyphs underneath.

Every time the phone rang, something bad happened – whether we answered it or not.

When night fell, it fell suddenly. And sometimes it lasted for weeks.

Time is strange when your house and your thoughts are strange.

It was time to leave, but it always had been, and I could never find the door.

It moved every day, and I was waiting for someone to tell me how to find it.

One day, I had packed everything into cardboard boxes, ready to leave.

As I waited, the boxes began to disintegrate.

People I’d never seen before crowded in and out of my room, saying things I couldn’t understand.

The staircase had crumbled, but somehow I was at the bottom.

Boxes hung in the air, disintegrating, and everything fell into the deep, dark green water.


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