Here's a taste:
Ninety years of dust, dirt, cobwebs, and memories just as fragile. Ninety years of muffled footsteps and falling tears and keening. Ninety years of not feeling. The ache of loss has left me, flown away like a raven to the abyss.
Today the ground will reside under my feet again, rather than above my head. After ninety years, the time has come to walk.
Three days to dig myself out.
Three days to find they no longer fear me.
They seek me out.
Follow me into dark corners, chase me down alleyways, and race me up dim stairwells. Solely to beg for eternity.
Once the hunter, now the prey.
I never thought I’d long for the ground.