John

I have to put my phone back in my pocket as I can't drag myself on my belly and shift through the narrow gap ahead of me. Trapped in this tight space, I can feel one of the many spiders I displaced by walking into their webs, exploring in my environs, my hair. I can't brush it free in this claustrophobic crawlspace, so I have to endure.

I have to put my phone back in my pocket as I can't drag myself on my belly and shift through the narrow gap ahead of me. Trapped in this tight space, I can feel one of the many spiders I displaced by walking into their webs, exploring in my environs, my hair. I can't brush it free in this claustrophobic crawlspace, so I have to endure.

I can't raise my head to look down deeper into the darkness without hitting my head on the cave ceiling. I have to lie prone and crane my neck if I want to see what lies ahead of me, not that the darkness shows me much. I try not to think of the tons of rock above me that could crush me should the earth will it. Why do I keep moving forward? I had friends. I had family. I had.

I can't raise my head to look down deeper into the darkness without hitting my head on the cave ceiling. I have to lie prone and crane my neck if I want to see what lies ahead of me, not that the darkness shows me much. I try not to think of the tons of rock above me that could crush me should the earth will it. Why do I keep moving forward? I had friends. I had family. I had.

I can't raise my head to look down deeper into the darkness without hitting my head on the cave ceiling. I have to lie prone and crane my neck if I want to see what lies ahead of me, not that the darkness shows me much. I try not to think of the tons of rock above me that could crush me should the earth will it. Why do I keep moving forward? I had friends. I had family. I had.

A thought breaks through the darkness.

A thought breaks through the darkness.

A thought breaks through the darkness.

I try to reach back to retrieve my phone and check, but a horrifying realization makes its home in my head, like a spider setting up a new nest in my hair. I can't check. My phone is in my pocket, and there isn't enough space to maneuver my arm to reach it now, and I can't back up. Was it my brother? Did he want to know why the hell I wasn't at the funeral? Maybe it was my sister.

I try to reach back to retrieve my phone and check, but a horrifying realization makes its home in my head, like a spider setting up a new nest in my hair. I can't check. My phone is in my pocket, and there isn't enough space to maneuver my arm to reach it now, and I can't back up. Was it my brother? Did he want to know why the hell I wasn't at the funeral? Maybe it was my sister.

I try to reach back to retrieve my phone and check, but a horrifying realization makes its home in my head, like a spider setting up a new nest in my hair. I can't check. My phone is in my pocket, and there isn't enough space to maneuver my arm to reach it now, and I can't back up. Was it my brother? Did he want to know why the hell I wasn't at the funeral? Maybe it was my sister.

Did she just want to tell me that everyone grieves differently, but I had to open up to them, that they loved me? Is it a voicemail from the last time I ever missed a call from my mom? That thought is stripped away from me by the panic when I realize that the space is so tight that I can't expand my chest fully to draw in air.

Did she just want to tell me that everyone grieves differently, but I had to open up to them, that they loved me? Is it a voicemail from the last time I ever missed a call from my mom? That thought is stripped away from me by the panic when I realize that the space is so tight that I can't expand my chest fully to draw in air.

Did she just want to tell me that everyone grieves differently, but I had to open up to them, that they loved me? Is it a voicemail from the last time I ever missed a call from my mom? That thought is stripped away from me by the panic when I realize that the space is so tight that I can't expand my chest fully to draw in air.

I try to calm myself, but the darkness and claustrophobia of this place makes it difficult. If I panic, I might do something stupid. Stupider, that is. I need to calm myself by controlling my breathing. I have to steal away oxygen from the moist, oppressive air through shallow breaths. I push my feet off the ground for leverage and I wriggle my body further into the ever-tightening depths ahead.

I try to calm myself, but the darkness and claustrophobia of this place makes it difficult. If I panic, I might do something stupid. Stupider, that is. I need to calm myself by controlling my breathing. I have to steal away oxygen from the moist, oppressive air through shallow breaths. I push my feet off the ground for leverage and I wriggle my body further into the ever-tightening depths ahead.

I try to calm myself, but the darkness and claustrophobia of this place makes it difficult. If I panic, I might do something stupid. Stupider, that is. I need to calm myself by controlling my breathing. I have to steal away oxygen from the moist, oppressive air through shallow breaths. I push my feet off the ground for leverage and I wriggle my body further into the ever-tightening depths ahead.

I try to ignore the fact that I have to inhale to move forward and every time I exhale, I let out a little more dead space for my lungs. I pretend that I can't feel my heart beating in my chest, scraping up against my ribs. The stone and the earth around me needle my stomach like tiny, deciduous teeth. They chew tiny holes into my shirt and pants.

I try to ignore the fact that I have to inhale to move forward and every time I exhale, I let out a little more dead space for my lungs. I pretend that I can't feel my heart beating in my chest, scraping up against my ribs. The stone and the earth around me needle my stomach like tiny, deciduous teeth. They chew tiny holes into my shirt and pants.

I try to ignore the fact that I have to inhale to move forward and every time I exhale, I let out a little more dead space for my lungs. I pretend that I can't feel my heart beating in my chest, scraping up against my ribs. The stone and the earth around me needle my stomach like tiny, deciduous teeth. They chew tiny holes into my shirt and pants.