You have been down here for eighteen days now. You are finally getting over the need to climb back out enough to catch a draw of fresh air. The constant pressure of methane gas keeps you high with a moderate headache. You are gaining a shit skin. A clinging dry brown protective husk wrapping around your body. Only your head has visible bits of flesh amongst the brown. You often times hear foot steps deep in your sleep. Wet splashes of someone or some thing making its way around. A couple times you got a glimpse of a brown form rounding the next corner when you round a corner. But this presence haunts you. For you can never catch it, never get a look look.