A man once stood on the left pillar of H. Looking behind him, he had seen… a dot. What kind, he wasn’t sure. It could’ve perhaps been a sturdy period, or a weak comma. Regardless, since he was on a capital letter, he couldn’t jump the entire two stories down without injuring himself. He then turned back, and looked in the crevice created by the bridge of the two pillars. Peering down, he saw m
Peering down, he saw… something. A walking skeleton. A walking skeleton, with grizzled and matted fur loosely worn by a yellowed skeleton, similar more to a garb than a pelt. Horns a deep and dark ivory creaked haphazardly within their slots, worn loose by years of extended life. The scariest characteristic though, to the man, was the skeleton’s pupils. Small, barely visible pinpricks of pure white light, buried deep within the socket. Something was in there: not human, but something. A twitching awareness of something never meant to be.
How did he get here? As the man recalled, the events slowly came back to him. He had first entered here from
The events slowly came back to him. He jumped down from the previous paragraph, while running from the Something that he had accidentally dislodged from a word. He had managed to evade the Something and push it into the pit of that capital H. Recalling even further prior, he had attempted to kill it by throwing a macron, after hearing of its horrible deeds, terrorizing the village a few sentences prior. Unfortunately, the macron did little to help, only uselessly attaching itself to the o of the word, causing the Something to be thrown out. He shuddered, remembering the word that vehemently spat out the Something. The Wendigo.
He peered back down at the Something, now more than anything just curious on how he would escape the predicament, more than settled with the idea of death. The Wendigo, in turn, stared at the man with its silver eyes, sunken deep into the large pits of gloom within its skull. Well, the man thought, there was nothing to do. He only had one option. Heading back up to the page he came from was impossible: no one was coming to rescue him, and he could never rescue himself. In the man’s mind, there was, without a doubt, simply, only, one melancholic choice to be made. Jump across the pit. And so he leaped. And so he landed on the other side, heaving and
And so he fell. He fell into the pit of the WENDIGO and was eaten alive. The Something starved to death soon after, deprived of meals within the pit.