The dumping well
I live in a well, a dumping well, like the dumping grounds you have. And I can tell for a fact that I saw it coming. Let me start at the beginning. Our well was gigantic, with no definite ends. Well, we definitely knew it opens at the top. Because things used to fall from there. We never saw the top with our own eyes. But we knew it existed because we saw the things fall. Unused, broken, discolored, disfigured things. There were books, pages, letters, flowers, leaves, and whatnot. Along with flora, there was fauna. There were also beings, souls, tears, emotions, memories, and thoughts. We have seen it all, over the years, from the ugliest to the most beautiful journeys of the fallen. There was a spiral passage inside the well to go up and down. Our houses were just behind the spiral passages along the walls. We had neighbors on both the sides. To go anywhere, we used to walk along the passage but we never walked the longer distances until it was absolutely necessary. If needed, we...