A Forward Descent into the Backwards Well World
BY: HUNTER J. GARRISON

The air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of forgotten dust and the phantom chill of an encroaching dawn. This is the true genesis, the crucible where the journey truly began, stripped bare of all pretension and illusion. The descent is a razor's edge, immediate, a chilling, visceral plunge into the abyssal, unknown waters. It is the deliberate, almost painful shedding of the familiar, a stark, unyielding declaration that the narrative has shed its chrysalis and emerged, raw, pulsating, and terrifyingly vulnerable, into the unforgiving light.

The story now begins after the comforting ritual of a simple breakfast, a final, conscious embrace of normalcy before the insidious tendrils of the extraordinary tighten their grip. But even in that seemingly innocuous glow of morning, the tendrils of the preceding night linger, specifically the icy, unyielding grip of sleep paralysis. This is the crux, the pivot point, the existential fissure where the ordinary fractures, and the extraordinary begins to bleed through. The protagonist's thoughts, their raw, unvarnished inner monologue, will become your compass, a flickering, precarious flashlight cutting a path through the oppressive shadows.

Two distinct paths lay open. The first, a straightforward explanation, would be a clinical dissection of the phenomenon. The second path, undeniably more alluring and shrouded in an intoxicating veil of mystery, is a poem. It is the mythological explanation, the artistic manifestation of a deeper, more primal terror, a gateway to a reality far stranger and more dangerous than any scientific explanation could ever encompass.

A Reverberating Wisdom… 
Underground.

Where roots defy the sun, a tangled crown,
And branches grip the earth, forever bound.
A paradox of being, stark and deep,
While secrets in the soil, our shadows keep.
The whispers of the past, a haunting sound,
Reverberating wisdom… underground.
Each echo a reminder, sharp and clear,
Of burdens borne, and lessons held so dear.
We carve a new dominion from the dust,
A fragile testament to broken trust.

Our shared dreams rise,
though dark the path we tread,
Upon the ghosts of what we thought was dead.
For heavy frowns, they linger, etched in time,
A chronicle of struggle, a silent chime.
The weight of what has been, a constant press,
A bitter truth that whispers of distress.
Yet onward still, through twilight's somber hue, We forge a future, darkly born anew.
Synced with a resonating reason... underground. Where hope's a flicker in a fading light,
And grim determination rules the endless night.
For life's a crooked path, with thorns and pain
A ceaseless struggle, through the falling rain.
And with every lesson learned,
a brand new scar.
A grimily stark reminder of just exactly
who we are.

A Reverberating wisdom.
Underground.