I was off to the big city to serve as a temporary employee. Puffed up beyond recognition online (much like my own website?) my position was nothing more than that of a paper cutter. I spent my days toiling over the thin strips assuring that they were arranged just so.

My readers may be aware that I am in the employ of a museum. In my stay as a visitor I spent hours hunched over the grueling task of label making. The numbing work and sterile environment caused my thoughts to turn in and wander through their own twisted corridors.

Inside the stark difference between day and night was gone and had no meaning; blessed rest would not come now. The horror show laboratory seemed to have grown around me and now mirrored my darkest thoughts. I could not escape; the deaths preserved here so carefully, attached to my soul.

The fumes from the jars clouded thoughts and forced me deeper into this nightmare. Tunnels stretched on and on and in the silence I screamed. Even death did not answer. Was this place real or just a formaldehyde dream?