User blog:CryptidBryn/we need a fear of layers

The man stood, sweating, in front of his work. The hole had been dug. He crawled in, but found the room to be just the same. No matter. He could dig another hole. This process repeated, so many times. The room was always the same. The room was always the exact same, and this was to be his life. The walls were impenetrable, not with the shovel he had been given or with his bare fists.

The man began to make some sort of noise, though whether it was furious howling or mad laughter even he was not quite sure. The rest of his life was spent digging, making that very noise.