Deep in the earth, wrapped in chthonic shadow, they writhe, pulling against their adamantium chains. No one knows who bound them, what they are, but we hear them. When we’re digging, we hear them struggling, but when we’re sleeping, they whisper. They fill our dreams:
Deeper, deeper, they bid. Dig deeper. Set us free.
Sometimes we wake up, and we’ve been digging, clawing at the earth in our sleep, our hands full of dirt. Ed, the others, we can’t wake them up. They just keep digging, like moles, blind to what they’re doing.
All they’ll say is, “Deeper. Dig deeper.”
Tale Told 