I stared into the distance, at a door too large for me to open. The footlike weight on my back did little to give me courage in such an endeavour. Trust me, it may have looked like open space but it was definitely a door.

The floor was damp like a freshly-used towel, the air cool as tiles. My wide eyes searched for the perfect place to make my home for my children and for the next few days.

Light jumped into my eyes like a horrific monster. I swiftly turned my entire body towards the feel of a screeching wooden door whose distance from the transparent door seemed to be the distance between the top of a redwood tree to its mossy bottom. Doors always felt so weird. If there was anything I missed about living in the wilderness, it was the lack of doors.

Well, except for those pesky trapdoors. I know I shouldn’t discriminate against those who make trapdoors, but they are surely the cruellest inventions on the planet. Except for spears, of course. A friend of mine got killed by one of those. Or perhaps it was a hammer. My memory had been disintegrating with each passing day.

A blistered foot sent vibrations through my legs as it stomped up and down, another foot following it. A towering figure stood over me. The next sense that bit at my body was the touch of rain. I squeaked, though I’m sure the creature couldn’t hear. These creatures could be so stupid sometimes. This particular one’s eyes were drowned in fear. You would think that a monster that big would see me as adorably vulnerable, but I guess power is a trapdoor for fear.

I stepped away from the rain, suddenly reminded that these creatures made rainmakers. Why someone would want to be drenched in water was beyond me, but I decided to mind my own business.

I was rewarded for my patience with the rainmaker being turned off. I vaguely remembered the way these creatures mouthed the words for this contraption. It was something like ‘chouwa’ or something. I was in much need of better memory.

Then the god above me decided to punch my skin with more droplets. I scrambled for a comparatively drier space only to have the creature splash some of the water onto my legs. The creature’s eyes were sympathetic. When I stood still, they splashed more water at me and yelled at me. They knelt down, their words appearing to be insulting my intelligence.

Ha! I was the stupid one? It was not me who was scared over the tiniest things. Their concerned smile oozed into my brain. Was this their way of helping me?

Several droplets caused the sac on my back to slip off my back. I reached for it but the tide pulled it towards the porcelain abyss.

I squeaked again, wondering why the creature was so stupid. My legs wobbled despite the weight on my back being alleviated, air momentarily forgetting to make it to my lungs.

I was soon surrounded by a puddle. The creature’s eyes were furrowed not in anger but in stress. My vision became blurry as my legs gave in underneath me. My entire body felt lighter than a leaf, the god’s chains on me strong enough to make me almost forget the pain.

My body slid into the trap of intersecting lines. My body flipped over until my now mangled legs rested on top of me. I did not blink like the creature, but darkness I could not see through punctured my view. I fell into the hole, too lost in the darkness to even wish to see my children.

You may, dear listener, wonder why I am able to speak to you like this now that I am, well, a cadaver who learned to speak English. Why are you asking me questions when the person who should be questioned is you? You must have gone insane if you can hear a dead creature like me retelling my death. I appear to exist in the hearts and minds of creatures like you, who feel guilty for spraying us with water or hitting us with hammers but do it anyway. You probably winced at that previous sentence and may have even told your parents not to step on us, but what about your teachers? Your masters? Then again, I guess there’s nothing you can do, right?

After all, you can all be stupid creatures sometimes.