-

 

Dig trench.

Shower.

Sleep.

Dig trench.

Don’t shower.

Sleep.

Get mortared.

Try to sleep more.

James gets injured and I gotta pick up the slack.

This… This is my life.

Come on!

 

-

A shovel slammed into the ground, kicking up dust. The man responsible hoisted himself out of the trench.

Loose dirt fell off him. Unable to grab hold due to a preexisting layer of dirt caked on him, acting like a second skin that repelled dirt. Which already began to flake off to reveal dirty skin beneath.

He stood up and brushed the dirt from his hair the best he could. 

 

-

 

Hared the trench digger.

He digs trenches, every day.

That’s me.

Worse part, I don’t hate digging.

What I hate is that I am the only one who does it.

I hate the sun. It's hot as hell.

I look like a damn elephant with all this dirt stuck to me due to me sweating like a swine in heat!

James! Why couldn't you stay in your barracks!

You HAD to sneak off to hells knows where and get fucking mortared!

 

-

Hared scratched his head and walked towards a bush, fiddling with his belt buckle as he did.

-

 

Now I gotta do more work. 

Dig here.

Dig here!

WHY!?

We are stationed at the very edge of this damn country!

 The safest place in the war.

The farthest from the fighting. The most danger we are in, is from some ragtag group of freedom fighters fucking mortoring us every few days.

Worst of all. James, you left me BORED.

We weren't friends, but our talks kept me sane. To be fair most of it was shit talking about how terrible this is.

 

-

He stepped in front of the bush. Still fumbling with his belt, his hand movements become more violent. Shaking and yanking, all that jazz. The buckle didn't yield.

-

 

Shit.

I’m not even supposed to be here.

My damn recruiter mixed up my paperwork and got me sent to the wrong place!

I was gonna be in sweet, blessed America! Away from the war, and in charge of building the stuff to help kill people.

Which sounds bad, now that I'm thinking of it, but I don’t care anymore.

I want to fucking kill the sun now.

…

WHY WON'T YOU COME OFF!

 

-

Hared began violently trying to unbuckle his belt.

-

 

They give us the cheapest quality of literally everything, and this belt is the best quality of all. It probably cost more than whatever is in those MRE’s.

 

-

“NOW-” He grunted, “GET-” He yanked, “OFF ME!” It still didn’t come off.

-

 

Should I just piss myself?

I'm dirty as is…

 

-

Pondering that life question Hared still was fumbling with his buckle. 

“A-ha!” He unbuckled it, achieving sweet victory, at last.

He whipped out his liver-disturber and was about to lay down that winning blow. The world rumbled and Hared fell over.

The urge to piss, his victory over the buckle, was lost.

-

 

Shit. Are we getting mortared again?

 

-

The world rumbled again, a slow roll that increased in strength with each pass-by, and continued to do so.

 

-

 

Ain’t no mortar.

It's a’ earthquake!

 

-

Hared rolled onto his stomach and pushed up. He ran to the trench, diving in. Well, tried. He ran and tripped due to his pants. He tumbled into the trench and hit his head as he landed. 

His eyes went blank and he ragged dolled. He had blacked out. A second passed and Hared gasped, regaining consciousness.

A voice spoke in his head, already speaking, 

[Well, shit. I’m sorry yall. Seems your world is about to experience layering. And, I, the system, am in charge of you all now. Don’t hate me, I wished this wasn’t happening. I’ll install into your brain, and begin the tutorial from there.]

Hared had a dumbfounded look on his face.

[Do mind the layering is chaotic in nature. So do expect that your surroundings might… change.]

Yellow light flickered in front of Hared before blinking out.

[...INSTALLING… This might hurt.]

Hareds hands shot to his head, clutching, muscles tensed. He began to scream and writhe, gouging the dirt beneath him, pushing it away; forming a concave.

 

His screams grew louder as he clawed at the boney-bump at the back of the skull. Blood flowed from it, making his fingers slick and red.

     

Sand was thrown into the air as Hareds writhing turned to kicks and flailings.

 

He went limp, sprawled out, gasping for air as the voice returned. It was clearer and closer than before, the static was gone, and instead of sounding like it was far away it was next to him.

 

 

[Done. I configured myself to be more recognizable to you guys. I will change it as we go from here to make it more natural for you all. Warning! Please stay in place! You do not! I mean you do not want to be caught up in the layering. You do not want to have your insides become your outsides and outsides your insides. I mean it, Jim from Huntsville, stepped out of his house and became like that. . . He’s dead. . . I was gonna say he was alive. Nevermind. Stay safe.]

Hared’s eyes darted around. He went still, not even daring to breathe. 

-

 

What?

 

-

He looked up and couldn't hold his breath anymore. His eyes dilated as he focused on the sky.

It resembled an aurora borealisi, but off. It wasn’t the normal color of one or the shape. It was like the whole sky was bending upon itself, the clouds becoming white blurs bent by the sky. Colors, that Hared didn’t even know the name to, were solid, and formed shapes. It was a whole rainbow of chaos.

A yellow light flickered in front of him, blocking his view, it turned into a semi-translucent screen.

 

 

 

Hared let out a chuckle.

 

-

 

It’s happened.

The military has made me go insane.

I'm insane.

Ma was right.

 

-

He laughed.