In the sludge Depressed it is ever night. The sun refuses to shine. Webbed and clawed footprints mar the flat mud surface. Something walked through here. The footprints trail off. Did it sink into the slick, sucked underground, or make it to the wide shore, the other side?
Tepid mud. Slippery. Sticky thick.
The dark sea leviathan makes her home in Depressed, her skin bruised and only her stench rising. The beings here wring their mud hands and woefully shake their dripping faces.
In the junkyard around Depressed abandoned vehicles ring the capitol Unmotivated.
Stuck in the mud and dragged away they like in concentric circles around and around the mud pits.
Their tires deflate into the mud. Mud coats their glass and metals surfaces.
"What are the Depressed inhabitants muttering?" asks Miss Doe Friend.
"Once we were told to take inventory," says the Guide. "So they are counting again, picking up where they left off. But there are so many vehicles no one can finish."
"Especially not alone," says Miss Emeline Traveler. "It seems they've forgotten how to work together."
"A pointless task," says the Guide.
"I came because I thought it was a great place to get a deal," says one of the Depressed. "Something for nothing. And then I was told to count. So I do, sometimes, try to count."
"Oh, dear," says Miss Doe Friend after awhile. "How do we get out?"
"There are keys to every vehicle in the Unmotivated office," says the Guide. "But they are all unmarked so it can take some searching and many of the vehicles won't start."
"There is an elevator, too, Doe," says Miss Emeline. "We are done here. Let's take it up to elsewhere and go from there."
"Yes, yes," says Doe, and moves quite quickly in that direction.
Tepid mud. Slippery. Sticky thick.
The dark sea leviathan makes her home in Depressed, her skin bruised and only her stench rising. The beings here wring their mud hands and woefully shake their dripping faces.
In the junkyard around Depressed abandoned vehicles ring the capitol Unmotivated.
Stuck in the mud and dragged away they like in concentric circles around and around the mud pits.
Their tires deflate into the mud. Mud coats their glass and metals surfaces.
"What are the Depressed inhabitants muttering?" asks Miss Doe Friend.
"Once we were told to take inventory," says the Guide. "So they are counting again, picking up where they left off. But there are so many vehicles no one can finish."
"Especially not alone," says Miss Emeline Traveler. "It seems they've forgotten how to work together."
"A pointless task," says the Guide.
"I came because I thought it was a great place to get a deal," says one of the Depressed. "Something for nothing. And then I was told to count. So I do, sometimes, try to count."
"Oh, dear," says Miss Doe Friend after awhile. "How do we get out?"
"There are keys to every vehicle in the Unmotivated office," says the Guide. "But they are all unmarked so it can take some searching and many of the vehicles won't start."
"There is an elevator, too, Doe," says Miss Emeline. "We are done here. Let's take it up to elsewhere and go from there."
"Yes, yes," says Doe, and moves quite quickly in that direction.
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