I’ve been falling for hours.
At first, I bounced off the sides of the well, colliding painfully with jagged stone as I fell.
Soon, the sides disappeared. The hole widened into a void.
There’s something below. I can see its gaping mouth. Its blackened tongue. Its razored teeth.
It called to me.
“Come,” it whispered. “Closer.”
I should have ignored it. I should have stayed away. I should’ve heeded my mother’s warning.
“You could fall in,” she said. “Or you could be pushed.”
But she was wrong. I didn’t fall. I wasn’t pushed.
I was pulled.
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