The Pit

In a cornfield not far from where I was born there is a huge pit in the ground. Every day some of us go out there with our shovels and buckets et cetera and we share an hour or two scooping out earth to make the pit deeper. Every day there are four bodies present, not always the same bodies and not always containing four people; on some days the person inhabiting a body might not be there, and on some days a body might be inhabited by more than one person.

Depending on the bodies present and the people present, we generally try to keep each other company while we work together at deepening the pit. Some of our methods include:

• Exchanging implicit threats such as "how was your weekend?"
• Sharing personal anecdotes, only to realize halfway through that the details are gone and subsequently just making the rest up
• Contests of physical strength (all of us hate these)
• Siphoning out each other's pain
• Marriage
• In one instance of marriage happening in the pit, the newlyweds turned up two days later in different bodies than the ones they had before and got divorced but stayed friends
• Making up songs together. These are usually surprisingly good. A few days ago we made up one called "FULL OF RATS" where we each take turns screaming "MY LUNGS ARE FULL OF RATS" for three minutes straight. If I was better with technology I would make a sick beat to put under it.

Deepening the pit with someone else creates a bond closer than anything else. It is closer than falling in love, closer than dying in each other's arms, closer than wishing you had died in each other's arms, closer than drawing sigils on each other's skin in a desperate attempt at understanding how everything went this bad.

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