Waking is painful. It’s dark. With a quick, reflexive gasp, filth and mud floods into my freshly open mouth and flaring nostrils. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as hard as I can, willing myself to close off the flood with the only remaining means of keeping the invasive world out.

  I realize there’s a down. A pull that I instinctively must resist. Flailing madly with tiny and almost pitiful arms and legs, I struggle up. Not floating, not rising. Rigorously scaling. Every inch comes with a fight. Every stroke of my limbs is all but useless as the formless mud flows carelessly between my fingers and toes.

  A speckled light finally peeks through the obscene veil above me. A final stroke of my hands breaks through a slimy film barrier. The feeling of mud ceases as I break through, leaving me to grasp at empty air. Again, instinct embraces me and my pathetic flailing intensifies, desperately seeking towards the promise of a breath.

  As my head and mouth crest the pioneering hole I tore through the film, my lungs act without my permission to take in the welcome air. However, the wretched mud already filling them resists, still mocking me despite my newfound apparent freedom. Finding the smallest pocket of air at the base of my lungs, I squeeze my core as tightly as I can to expel.

  “G-gok!”

  The area fills with the sound from my mouth erupting like a volcano. Mucus and dirt shoot out like an explosive fountain, and then I finally take my first, deep, choking inhale. Heaving and sputtering, I continue spitting out more and more bits of mud and stone. Anything I happened to find on my way up through this mess.

  Content to have filled my lungs, I open my eyes and find another pair staring straight back into them from close above. The sky reflects another exactly like myself dangling above and inspecting me with approval.

  “Bref tak. Fras mud. Nam Gok,” the dangling reflection shouts out to another at the edge of the pit who clumsily scrawls something out on a dirty scroll.

  I can barely understand his words. Are my ears also filled with this awful mud? As I continue the struggle to pull the rest of my body out, the dangling figure raises higher and swings away from the center of the pit.

  “Non mir. Peet dun,” he squawks out as he departs.

  My reflection’s partner appears to cheer at this. He tosses the scroll in his hands to the ground before turning to quickly scamper away into the hazy distance. I’m left alone again, sitting on the edge of the hole I’ve dug, exhausted. Wrenching my left foot out of the ground’s last grip on me, I lay back, panting heavily.

  The true sky above me, and above my brief, blinking reflection, sparkles. A milky smear of stars as far as I can see in all directions. Where am I? How did I end up buried? I’m so tired. I could fall asleep here, but is it safe? Where did the others go? I’m so hungry. My stomach is likely also filled with this stupid, terrible mud.

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  In anger, I sit up, take a fistful of the ground below me, and hurl it as hard as I can over the edge. The futile gesture accomplishes nothing, but somehow I feel better. Standing for the first time, I wobble towards the edge of the pit where my feeble throw landed and peek down at my destruction.

  Instead of the splatter and smear of my missile, infinity greets me. The little man with the scroll had apparently run off along a precarious wooden gangway connecting the pit to additional floating structures in the distance. Everywhere else is simple emptiness as far as I can see. Darkness straight down into more of the swirling dances of sparkling stars.

  My hands reflexively clench at the edge of the pit in the terrified realization that I might fall from disorientation. Trying to scramble backwards to safety, the ground slides beneath my clumsy motions. Uncontrollably sliding back towards the edge, luckily a ridge of dirt forms and my feet slam against it. Stable for now, my body takes over and I curl up to wretch.

  “Ha–gok, gok, gok.”

  The mud filling my stomach shoots out into the abyss from the intense spasms. Even hungrier now that my stomach has emptied, I moan with my head in my hands. Where am I? How did I get here? What’s going on? Why? Why did this happen?

  I have to go. I can’t stay here. Who knows what might emerge out here to take me. The only path out is that gangway that the others ran down. Fumbling over on hands and knees, I inspect the first plank. It’s jammed deep into the dirt. It seems stable, so I creep out to its edge.

  The next plank is barely attached to the first via crudely punctured holes and… twine? Wound grass? Something incredibly unassuring was wound through these holes in the ends of each plank to join them together. As I test the weight of my upper body on the next piece, it easily swings from side to side. My stomach lurches again, but there’s nothing left to eject.

  Is this really safe? The others went this way. They excitedly ran along this as if it was nothing. It must have held their weight then, right? There’s no other way. I can’t stay here on this bizarre floating island of mud. I have to risk it.

  Continuing my crawl, eventually my full weight is on the second board and thankfully it doesn’t break free. Inching forward like a worm, my hands and feet awkwardly wrap each plank.

  It takes ages, but eventually loud noises cause me to risk looking up and re-witness the intimidating abyss. Another island is suspended out in the distance before me. A much larger island, with countless more gangways leading away from it like the center of a giant spider’s web. It’s also covered with those little men. They’re everywhere, as if infecting it like fleas.

  I continue sliding myself along the gangway, motivated by the promise of change. Maybe I can find food there or at least safety amongst the others. Could someone there explain to me what’s going on?

  As I reach the final plank, my shaking body finds refuge in its solid mount into the floating island. I nervously pull myself back up to stand, hoping my weak legs won’t give out on me. Somehow they hold, and I’m able to finally inspect my surroundings.

  Suddenly one of the tiny men flies by beside me, sliding uncontrollably on his back. With wide eyes, I watch as the energy of his motion easily fires him over the side and into the nothingness below. In my shock, I accomplish nothing other than registering his face as he passes. Resisting and fighting the fall with everything he has, he still smiles back up at me. At the island. At the whole world. He smiles. He wildly smiles as he rejoins the abyss.