It was daily occurence and nobody seemed to notice how many times it had happened over the last 20 years. That’s 20 by 365 not accounting for a leap year. Who knew that it would lead to madness. That after 20 years we could find ourselves here, in this crevice, hanging by a thin strand of finely woven nothingness in a place where no man would dare fish around for answers. Why had it come to this? Inevitable calamity. There was no other meaning to be found. Snakes and ants could survive but not us. There were too many variables. Too much sanctity prohibited. Just enough love to shed light on the aspirations darkened by scepticism. Healthy scepticism, lateral scepticism and farnarkling laughter. There was no such thing as parable in innocence. There was always a baddie protesting his or her apple grove. Feathered creatures lay in the mist developing a hatred for slip streams. It had taken too may of their family members. None of them could see any more what a gust of wind was and what was certain death. The birds were wary, watching the ants and snakes from a great height, wondering how many times they would have to screech before the madness would end. Clack Clack Clack. The typing fingertips issued another warning. Clack Clack Clack. There was no other solution but to sever the fingers and let go of the thread that held the remnants of humanity above the teeming wilderness below.