By then the dull, scrapping noise had faded,

By then the dull, scrapping noise had faded, but he wasn't any calmer for it. The noise still lived in his mind. He knew he had to press onward, though. They were counting on him.

He was the remaining commander on this submarine. One engine down. They listed at the edge of "the Trench." He'd ordered the corpses to be put in the torpedo bays and shot

at the Trench to propel the sub upward. They reached the surface (with corpses to spare!), and the sub washed ashore on the Mariana Islands. They built a fire (with spare corpses!)

out of wood from the jungle trees. "Oh no, they found me" I thought, sweating as a man from the sub entered the building wielding a spear. "So you're this story's narrator" the man

with the razor sharp implement guessed. "I've got a bone to pick with you," he said menacingly, and jerked his spear toward the narrator. On the sidelines, the next folder fainted

so, foldmeonce sloshed a bucket of water on top of Flopp's head, waking him up to see the spear pointed at him! "Noplease! The next folder is much more tasty than I am!" and he ran

To warn the seventh folder, with a note written in orange crush ink. Then the radio played "Diamonds on The Soles of Her Shoes", causing spear to become an olive branch. Whew!

But the 7th Folder didn't see the Orange crush ink note or your empty as a pocket boy. I'm going to shove that olive branch all they way up your alphabet soup name & keep whistling

"I'm Singing in the Rain" Elle Driver mix. The 8th folder recognized it was what it was and responded appropriately by identifying that he was the 8th folder communicating with the

void. The void did not respond. The 8th folder and the void sat in awkward silence for the rest of the drive. The void consumed the 8th folder on arrival. You will be next.