Dearest Readers and Legions of Adoring Fans,
I’m afraid this will be my final article for the Wire. I regret to inform you that, earlier today, in an attempt to recapture the bygone whimsy of my youth, I dove headlong into a sumptuous pile of leaves. Unfortunately, I am unable to extricate myself from the situation, and all efforts to emerge from the leaves has only led me to sink further into the pile, as if in quicksand.
My time outside of the leaves seems so long ago now. Burdened by homework and tests, I longed for a simpler time, and, seeing a pile of freshly raked leaves, I ran towards it and leapt, elated by the prospect of my fall being gently caught by the amber foliage.
Alas, my elation soon turned to horror as I realized that I was not being caught by the leaves, but rather enveloped by them, sucked down into a stygian abyss of autumn’s decay. I looked upward as the sky above was reduced to a pale circle of light as I plunged further downward, far below the ground, the leaves seeming to go forever.
I thrashed around, tried to climb up and gain purchase, to no avail. Finally, I gave up, and accepted my fate.
I’m writing this down on a scrap of paper I found in my pocket and giving it to a squirrel I’ve befriended during my time in the leaves. I trust him to bring it back to my colleagues so they can tell my story. Don’t bother looking for me, I am at peace here beneath the trees. Covering me like a blanket, the leaves keep me warm and safe. There are no responsibilities down here, no strife, simply contentment.
Goodnight and good leaf.
Editor’s note: the above is thought to be the result of the writer collapsing in a leaf pile and hallucinating after some particularly bad sleep deprivation. Despite this, we publish it here in its entirety (it’s been a slow news week and we have space to fill. So sue us.)
Editor-in-Chief’s note: Please do not sue us.
Source: Whitman Wire