#tAoAtLS

[hyprunivers]

The Adventures of Ashleigh the Living Skeleton

Chapter 2: Am I In a Predicament

I think I may be in a predicament. I seem to be an alive skeleton. This seems like a predicament, right? Does that seem like an accurate term for this situation? I woke up in the forest and I'm a skeleton.

Ok, let's calm down and take stock. Maybe we shouldn't freak out just yet, I'm sure there's a rational answer for all of this. Like, it's a really good fall prank. For a prank show. On TikTok? For skeletons.

You know, I'm not freaking out about this. I'm actually feeling pretty neutral to good. Like, chill skeleton vibes.

My head was resting on the ground again. Chilling in the dirt, laying on top of... a hood? From a hoodie?

I swivel my head, hm, my skull, side to side, looking down a little at my shoulders. Yeah, I've got a hoodie on. Dark, navy blue. A little worse for wear, a little covered in leaves and stuff from lying down in the dirt in the woods.

Man.

Should I be freaking out about this? It really feels like I should be screaming for help or something. For someone to fix this.

Ahem.

"Haaaaaalp."

It wheezed out of me.

No, that's not right at all. I look down at my empty rib cage. I don't have like, lungs and throat by which to wheeze. I- how did I make that sound? Again, this seriously feels at least predicament adjacent.

I breathe in to speak again and yeah, that's not even close to what's happening. I sense.... I sense the wind pull through me. The air changes direction slightly and pulls down and I feel it brush over me ever so lightly, like tiny feathers pulling up into my chest, and then something happens, and now I think I'm going to try to speak again.

"Help?"

. . . . .

I can hear a bird chittering nearby. Little finch-y noises. I don't think he knows what to do either. I mean, I wasn't terribly demanding with my "help," I wasn't really forcefully imploring.

This is stupid. I don't think I need help. I think I'm fine, I think I just happen to be a skeleton. We can work with that. For now anyway, since there really isn't much of anything else going on.

Ok, here's our next adventure. Here's where we really see if I'm in a situation. Gonna sit up.

I sit up.

Shit, that was easy. I'm making this look easy. Look who is killing it at being a living skeleton for the first time in their life.

I sort of shiver to myself, not from cold or nerves- nerves? Nah. Anyway, I give myself a wiggle to wake up my now-sitting skeleton parts. There is some rattling, but I stay together. This is honestly a really solid start, I've got to give myself credit for that.

I lift my skeleton hands and grab the hoodie I seem to wearing, gripping the two sides of the unzipped sweatshirt. Straighten myself out a bit. The hood falls all the way back, and I reach up to touch my skull with my finger bones.

Tak-tak. Tak-tak-tak.

Yeah, it's just skull. I suddenly feel like I want my hood up again. I pull my hood up again. I'm a skeleton, sitting in the woods, and I have a nice navy hoodie on. That's ok! Lots of people are different!

I look up at the sky again. I see a plane. I see a hawk way up high. I see the remnants of the trail from the meteor.

I pull my skeleton legs up to me and hug myself tight for a second, all my bits moving for the first time since I've woken up. I move smoothly, like I've been doing this forever. Even though there are obvious indentations in the dirt around me from where I've been laying- for quite a while it seems- I don't have any trouble navigating my limbs.

I turn my head to the side and rest it against my knee bones. And I just listen.

Birds and trees. Leaves and wind. No breathing. No gurgling from my guts. It's so peaceful to sit here. This is nice.

I'm still not entirely convinced that this isn't a predicament.

[hyprunivers]

The Adventures of Ashleigh the Living Skeleton

Chapter 1: I Woke Up.

When I woke up, I was staring at the sky.

When I woke up, I was fully awake immediately. I wasn't groggy, I wasn't unsure. I didn't blink the sleep out of my eyes. I was staring at he sky, fully conscious, fully aware.

I was lying on my back on the ground. There were trees all around me, their branches reaching high overhead. It must have been fall since the trees were mostly bare, although I didn't really feel cold.

Hm.

I didn't really feel cold or warm, I didn't really feel anything. I also didn't feel particularly bothered about not feeling. I could tell I was lying on my back, and I could sense the ground underneath me, holding me up. I could sense the dirt and the leaves, and some fabric and plastic beneath me as well. I could sense some little bugs moving around, going on about their bug business. I could sense a breeze. All of this was fine. The sky was pretty, even though it was mostly drab and gray. All in all, it felt very late afternoon-y.

I continued to not blink at the sky. That was interesting. I didn't feel like I needed to blink, and that seemed odd. I'm looking, that should mean eyes, and eyes should mean blinking?

Hm.

I can't blink. It doesn't feel like a problem. My eyes don't feel dry. In fact my eyes don't feel.

This. This should strike me as more strange, I think. Should I be getting upset? I'm not upset. I lift my head slightly to look down at the rest of me, the body that I know will be there. I sense a bit of fabric clinging to the top of my head and shoulders slide back and drop away.

Ah!

See, that makes this make more sense. It appears that I am a skeleton. I am looking at my body and my body is a skeleton.

I drop my head back down to the ground and look back up at the sky. I lift my head again to look down at my body that is not a body. Still a skeleton.

I twitch my foot. My bone foot that seems to be held together by nothing in particular. My left bone foot twitches.

I lay my head back down. Ok.

Ok. So.

Ok.

So.

I'm a living skeleton.

[hyprunivers]

Chapter 7: Neutral comrades.

I hop down off my infinity-viewing rock and start down the hill toward the farm below. The hill is pretty steep and gravelly, and I'm trying my best to stealthily sneak down, so the going is relatively slow and deliberate. At least I can use the pointiness of my foot bones to dig in a little! They act like my own little built-in climbing crampons, cleats spiking into the tough incline to give the illusion that I'm more coordinated than I really am. Why do I know what crampons are? So specific!

With so little movement under my belt, I'm not sure how to adequately explain how I know that I'm a little clumsy, but I absolutely know that I'm a little clumsy. Maybe I'll slow down even a tad more.

"Climbin' down the hiiiiiill," sung in whisper, lest my voice carries.

I wouldn't call anything about my descent graceful, but it's effective and mostly quiet. Certainly quiet enough that I don't see any lights come on, so I'm mostly certain that I haven't woken anyone in the nearest house. To be fair, I think I'd have needed to fail pretty spectacularly on my stealth-check in order to wake anyone at about a football field's distance.

I made it! I made it down!

What do I do now?

Start a-wanderin' again, I guess. Time to check out the farm up close. I head slightly away from the nearest house, out to my left, toward what looks to be a mostly harvested cornfield. Some dry stalks remain in the field on the end nearest the house and barn, but beyond that, the field is empty besides the torn-up remnants of the crop that grew there in the preceding weeks. There isn't much to see here, not much left for any night creatures to pick over, but I feel a sort of mild compulsion to check it out nonetheless. Maybe more than a mild compulsion. There's something I'm supposed to see here.

Besides the stalks and the emptiness beyond, there's one obvious feature to the field. There's a scarecrow standing vigilant guard at the head of the corn rows. Not very effective placement if you ask me, but he honestly looks a bit more decorative than functional. He looks clean and friendly, or as clean as being kept outdoors and as friendly as his straw-filled body and cartoonish features allow.

He looks to be about 5'8" in height, actually person-sized. Worn but not ruined jeans on his legs, ending in old rubber boots for his feet, and a classic red and black checked long-sleeve flannel on top. His stuffed burlap head is emblazoned with two big Xs and a huge single-lined smile under a floppy straw hat. Happy, but dead. Could be worse.

I'm drawn to this happy fellow. I feel a kinship with him. I feel like we're wearing similar grins. Is he happy? Am I? I'm not unhappy. Do I have to be one or the other? I don't feel like those need to be default states now that I think about it. Maybe I was assuming they were? I suppose it might be a little strange, should someone ask me how I was feeling, to say "not unhappy, thanks!" But it might be equally odd to just say, "my feelings are neutral, comrade."

"How are we feeling, comrade? Do you know?"

The scarecrow doesn't answer. It's not a small question really, and I don't begrudge him his silence.

I reach out and grip the faded denim of his jeans, the cuff of his left leg in my bony right hand. I rub the fabric between my thumb and index finger, listening to the little sound created by the weave of the fabric being drawn across itself. I look up at his placid, lifeless, smiling face as I close my hand around the straw-filled fullness of his left calf.

"I feel like you and I would have a lot to talk about, comrade. I feel like you and I would be friends."

The sudden electric shock that fills my hand nearly knocks me off my feet and I feel instantly off-balance and slightly woozy.

"WOW!" I shout, unable to contain my (metaphorical) shock at the blast of energy that seems to have just willed itself into being where my hand made contact with the scarecrow's leg. I'm clearly not the only one affected, as a vibration works its way up and down the height of the scarecrow's body, starting at the calf where we touched just a second before.

"WOW!" I say again, significantly more quietly this time, very aware of the noise I just made. I am not nailing sneaking. The scarecrow continues to vibrate slightly as I take a step back. Or, that's not quite right, he's not vibrating. It's almost as if reality is rippling slightly starting from where we touched, but ending at the edges of his form. It's a very strange thing to witness as I wait for my dizziness to pass.

"WOW!!" for the third time, still quiet but equally urgent, as the ripple ends and he returns to being motionless. Motionless for two beats of the heart that I don't have before the scarecrow gives a violent wiggle and a muffled grunt!

"Holy crap, you're alive!" I hiss and hold my open hands up to to my mouth, utterly bewildered. Did I just do this? Did I just do magic?! I don't think the scarecrow was alive before?! But he's alive now?!

This is crazy! This has RAMIFICATIONS.

"Mmmff. MMff! MmmFFff!" the scarecrow quietly shouts, his mouth still only a curved line emblazoned by black permanent marker. He swings his head left and right, tied by the neck to the thick board behind him.

"It's ok, I've got you!" I tell him, as I try to pull down the cross that's holding him aloft. I can't move it in the least, so I just start working at the bonds that hold him in place. "Give me a minute, I have to untie you!"

"Uhnhie ie??" he responds, as I reach up to undo the thick twine around his neck, under his shoulders, his wrists, his waist, knees, and feet. He seems weightier than he looked before, as though there is a structure to him now that was missing only seconds before. I leave the twine around his trunk for last, as it seems like that would be the least uncomfortable way to go about this very awkward process.

As I pull the last knot free, his full weight falls to the ground, still loosely bound to the cross behind him.

"UFF," he exclaims, the air pushed out of him as he lands on his jeans-clad bottom.

"Shh! We have to be quiet, please! Sorry! Are you ok? Sorry! I don't know what to do!"

"Uff!"

He swings his head back and forth, seeming to try to look around, or maybe clear his head. Having gone through a recent spontaneous-aliving myself, I can commiserate.

"Hi! I'm sorry? Are you ok?"

"Uff. Ah hon't oh. Ah han't ee. Pfff."

"Oh! You can't see! Well. Hm. Your eyes are Xs. Can you open them? Somehow? Is that how this works?"

"EHHIS? Ah hie ah EHHIS?"

"Oh no. I'm sorry. I don't know if I did this or not. Maybe I did this wrong?" I'm feeling a little panic now. This is clearly not going nearly as smoothly for my scarecrow friend as it is did me. Hey, a new feeling! Guilt! This one sucks! I am not nailing it!

"Uhn uh. Ah. Uh. Ang awhn."

I'm not really sure if I'm translating accurately, but I'm pretty sure he just needs a minute. He gets a little physically calmer and begins to give himself a pat-down as he remains seated on the ground below his previous hanging spot.

"Huh."

The pat-down pauses and then, horrifically, he begins to rip his head off.

"OH NO!!!!!!" I shout as quietly as I can, my hands to my face, failing magnificently to block out the nightmare before me. I really, really, completely did this wrong. I am bad at magic and if there is magic prison I should be sent there. Magic skeleton prison. That is my new home and I accept that, Your Honor. I regret that I have but one life to give for fucking this up so completely. Never again shall I nail it, as I have beefed it so utterly in this moment.

After a moment more of struggle, the scarecrow finally tears off the straw-filled burlap sack of his smiling head and reveals...

A STRAW-FILLED SKULL?

"Oof. Huff. Pfft," he says, shaking his head, and blowing some straw from his mouth. "That was weird, man! I had a bag on my head! I think I'm filled with straw!"

"HOLY MOLY," I say, my hands slowly lowering from in front of my mouth. I start to stand up straight again, as I realize I had been sort of cowering away from what was before me.

"You've got that right!" he blurts, before stopping and really looking at me. He stares for a moment, and his jaw slowly descends, leaving his mouth wide with shock.

"Buddy?"

"Um," I confidently reply.

"Are you a skeleton?"

[hyprunivers]

Chapter 6: Infinite eternity.

Night falls and the air feels heavy with cool moisture. I don't think it's going to rain. I don't think I want it to rain right now. I've never personally experienced rain, but I don't want cold rain on my first night of existence, all alone and not quite sure what to do with myself.

I sit for the next few hours, just watching and thinking. The cars and trucks follow along the highway off to the right. The few families down below come home to their houses. Lights come on, lights go off. Smoke rises from chimneys and televisions flicker. I motionlessly witness the beauty of the ordinary, just me and my sweatshirt perched on my rock.

Hours. Five hours? I'm not bored. There were a few minutes where I thought I should maybe get bored. Maybe get fidgety. But I don't fidget. I don't need to, because I'm not uncomfortable. I don't need to move at all. And I don't get bored because I'm not. Even when I think down the same pathways, there are always more permutations. More side roads to follow. Maybe it's because I've only been able to think for half a day so far. Maybe I'll get bored in the future. Something to look forward to!

By the time the last of the lights go out in the houses below, a lot of the cloud cover has blown out too, and I'm completely stunned by what that allows me to see. So many stars. More than I could ever hope to count, should I ever be struck by the urge to count them. I think I actually prefer knowing that it's unknowable though. Maybe some things are better being unknowable, and it's good for us to know that. Either way, it's a lot to take in for my first day alive. There are just so many! I think it might be safe to sneak down now, but I'm going to take a few minutes more anyway. I want to really remember this. My beautiful first night. All these stars, just for me.

I think it's ok to be alone with something so big like this. It's certainly ok to share it, but some big things, big unknowable things, are good to experience all alone- to let them wash over you, and fill you, inundate you, overwhelm you. To fill you up and then just keep going. To let you know that there's more than you can ever use up. More than everyone put together could ever use up. An infinite experience for all of us. And I do mean all of us. All of us that ever were in the past, all of us now, and all of us that might be in the future. All held together right now in this same experience. All of us overlapping and bumping up against each other throughout time and space, all of us made small, all of us given a perspective that we can't ignore, just as long as we take the time to look.

I'm here. I'm just me, here. Me and my sweatshirt. Perched on my rock. Staring out at eternity. All alone, just like everyone else that can ever be.

Time to go for another walk.

[hyprunivers]

Chapter 5: A walkin' dude.

The woods are slightly denser in the direction of the machinery sound at first, and I struggle a little through the underbrush. Low, viney plants pull at my toe and shin bones, which is honestly a bit unsettling as I have absolutely no idea how or why my bones are holding together at all.

I pause to pull a branch away from my leg and take a little gander at my non-existent joinery while I'm at it. Really though, how the hell is that working? I can see that my knee parts are all holding together and I'm upright and holding my weight, but otherwise....

I think I'm really going to just have to assume that I am magic. A magic dude, walkin' in the woods. Magic skeleton dude.

"Magic skeleton, walkin' duuuude," I sing softly as I pass another low, prickly obstacle.

As long as my skeleton keeps wanting to hold together, I'm going to take advantage of it. What other choice do I have? I already chose to not just keep lying on the ground. I chose to get up, to walk, to observe and investigate. I am an observing and investigating thing. I have a mind with thoughts, and I want to know more things and have more thoughts. The circumstances are decidedly not what I might have expected when I woke up a few minutes ago, but again, that changes nothing. I exist and I choose to keep existing.

I struggle through some more brambles and thickets and other arrangements of nature that are probably more specifically things than I am treating them. I really have no idea if I've just traversed either a bramble or a thicket, but I know my hood got caught at one point and it's all a bit of a pain in the ass. A minute or two more of off-roading and the woods thin out again and the ground leads me slightly uphill to a ridge. Cresting the rocky edge of the ridge leads me to the endp of the trees and far more of a view than I was expecting.

Hey, a farm! Farms!

I look out over a few square miles of carefully cultivated valley, tucked in between rolling hills that stretch out and out and out toward a sun that's beginning to set behind its gray, autumn cloud cover. The low hum of highway drones along dumbly from further to my right, as I watch a mid-sized tractor being pulled up to what I assume is its nightly resting place near a big classically red barn. The tractor's occupant pops open the operator door and hops down, walking with tired purpose into the barn. There's a house not far off as well, up toward the highway- a few houses actually- spread out along the low land near the major roadway, but actually on a smaller subsidiary road that runs parallel.

There are folks here. People folks. Hm. Not skeleton folks I don't think. Although I am pretty far away. But the tractor driver seemed kind of filled-out in a body way underneath his clothes that would lead me to believe that he is not also a magic skeleton dude.

What a pretty valley.

It's the first one I ever remember seeing, so take this with a grain of salt, but it may be the prettiest valley I've ever come across.

I rest my left hand against the tree next to me, and just watch for a while. The solid gray cloud cover rolling steadily overhead in the light wind. The solid gray-white ball of the sun sinking down toward the heavily forested hills in the distance. The square-cut fields stretching out before me, browns and greens and yellows and oranges of late-season growing things and well-fed dirt. Well-trod foot and vehicle paths cutting between the fields. Cows and horses, pens full of ducks and chickens. Loved houses, lights coming up in their windows as the sun grows dimmer. Dinners and conversation and companionship, natural and expected. Community and camaraderie.

The bark of the tree against my hand even feels a little warmer in the lowering light as I ponder the lives down below. I feel love for them. I really do. I don't know these people, but I feel their lives so close to me. I'm sure it's more complicated than that, it always is and always will be, but right now, this is the only world I've ever met and the simplicity from so far above fills my heart.

I look down at the empty ribcage below my unzipped hoodie. My heart, as it were. I mock sigh, and look back up again. I don't know how I'm feeling anything at all, but I am, no matter what. And that's valid. I feel, and it's real, and no one, not even me, can take that away.

I want to go down there. I want to be a part of that world and learn more and experience more, but there is definitely a little warning bell ringing in my head right now. Maybe, just maybe, the folks down there are not ready for a magic walkin' skeleton dude to come out of the forest and invade their lives. Granted there's only one way to be sure, but there's just little old me and I still don't even know how or why I am.

I'm going to go down there. I am. But maybe I should wait just a little while. Maybe I wait for night, poke around a little, and then say hi in the light of the morning. I feel like a skeleton at dusk in the fall is maybe a bit too on-the-nose, and definitely a way for me to maybe get smashed into a million pieces. I don't want to think too negatively about any of the strangers down there, but my invisible guts are definitely pushing me to err on the side of caution. I think I'll listen to you, invisible guts.

"Invisible guuuuuuuts."

Yeah, ok, see? They're not ready for a nighttime skeleton who suddenly decides to sing invisible guts. I think I need to pull it together a little before I show up out of nowhere. Work on my delivery.

I look around a bit on my ridge, find a decent-sized chunk of boulder, and have a little sit down. I don't mind waiting for a while. I'm not tired. I don't feel like I need to sleep. At least not anytime soon. I just feel like watching a bit more.

The farmer heads out of the barn and toward the nearest house, white siding, brown shingles, square and plain but well-maintained. A small flag flies next to the back door, the image of a pot of flowers on it. The flag whips as he pulls the door open and gets caught as the screen door slowly slides closed. The door opens again slightly and the tail end of the flag is thrown out before the inner door is closed. I imagine that happening a dozen times every day, a little annoyance, a little eye-rolling grin sometimes, a gruff mumble others.

I sit on my cold rock as the last of the light sinks down over the horizon and the stars do their best to come out. The blanket of clouds overhead still weighs heavily, blotting out all but the strongest pinpricks of distant light. I see the moving beams of the highway going about their lonely business.

Oh hey. I meant to go west and it turns out this was west! Yes. Still nailing it.

[hyprunivers]

Chapter 4: A philosophical genius.

I don't want to overstate how well I think I may be doing at this point in my admittedly limited existence, but I am doing great at thinking.

I feel like a lot of other woods-based amnesiac skeletons would have just crumpled by this point. Unable to make sense of their situation, unable to move on. I'm ready to move on, baby. I'm ready to go for a walk. Which way?

Shit, ok. Damn, I am lost in the woods. Am I lost in the woods? How are you lost in the woods if you weren't going anywhere in the woods? I can't be lost because I didn't have a destination, right? Am I overthinking this? Am I underthinking this? ARGH HOW AM I THINKING THIS?

I was doing so well.

No, stop, I'm still doing so well. Remember? I'm nailing this.

"Yeahhh, dude," wheezes out of me a little less confidently this time as I try my cool guy slouch again. It doesn't feel cool. I hold myself at the nadir of my slouch for a few seconds. Scraping out the last little bit of don't-give-a-heck. I am failing miserably, so I straighten up again.

"That's ok. I'm a cool guy. Not like, a cool guy, just a cool guy. Yeah. That's ok." I feel like if I had skin it would be a little sweaty and then I'm thankful for no skin. No embarrassed sweat! Yeah! Back to being awesome! Nailing. It.

I'm not lost because I haven't decided where I'm going yet. It's as simple as that. How can I be lost if I haven't even started going somewhere? I'm just in the place where I'm started. I feel the desire to go.... west. Why not? Ok, which way is that?

I think I heard somewhere

I don't know if I've ever heard anything anywhere; I just happen to know that I maybe know something. That's so weird. I suppose conversationally it works out the same? Philosophically, semantically? I know all these words! I'm a skeleton philosophical genius! I'm getting off track!

I think I heard somewhere, somehow, once upon a time, that moss grows on the north side of tree trunks. If that's true, then I would know which way north was, and then I could tell which way west was, and then I could go west!

Which is a perfectly acceptable set of assumptions that I promptly abandon as I hear the noise of machinery distantly, though maybe not that distantly, to my right.

Hey! Stuff is that way! To my right!

I'm gonna go check that out.

I give one last good look to my clearing, down to my dirt outline, out toward my bird friends- now long passed, over toward the mystery squirrel. Man, I've come a long way. But it's time to move on.

I focus for a second and pantomime taking a big, slow breath, blowing it out and steadying myself, shaking myself a little, limbering up. And then I start taking my first steps forward.

[hyprunivers]

The Adventures of Ashleigh the Living Skeleton

Chapter 3: There is a bird on my head.

I sit hugging my legs up to me for

a while. I don't know how long. I guess it doesn't matter. A ponderable amount of time. An amount of time for pondering.

I sit, my old hoodie draped over me, and ponder.

I don't mean to belabor this point, but I'm a living skeleton, and I'm still a little unsure what to do with this knowledge. How to move forward. What does a living skeleton do? What was I before? Was I before? I mean, was I was? No, I mean, did I exist? Was I a person?

I think hard. I think so hard. I don't remember being a person, I'm sure of that. Other than my bones and my hoodie, I don't have any other person-ness. But I've been thinking a lot of thoughts here, so obviously I am a thinking thing, right Descartes?

Is it scary that I'm a skeleton? Am I scared? Am I scary? I don't feel scared.

There is a sudden tug! a the top of my head, and a slight pull to the side as a starling lands suddenly and sloppily on top of my hood as only a starling would. Hopping and poking with the enthusiasm of a freshman high school football player that hasn't quite come to understand the size of their growing body.

I guess I'm not that scary then. At least not to the bird on my head.

I let me new friend investigate for a moment, careful not to

I was going to say breathe, but again, I think I need to move past that idea. I'm not a person. Maybe I was before, but I'm not now. I'm a skeleton. Not the scary kind though, the kind that is friends with birds.

"Thanks for checking on me, new friend," I whisper, and I can hear a little sadness in my voice.

"S'OK!" he answers in return, quite to my surprise. He pokes down on my hood a few more times with his thin beak, breaking up some of the small dirt clumps stuck to me as he probes for snacks.

"Bye!" he chirps as his short quest ends fruitlessly and he zips back up into the trees to join the rest of his football team friends, about a dozen of them, that have taken up a short residence in a tree to my left. They talk things over for a few seconds although I can't understand this time, and then take wing, off for more exciting things to come. I watch their iridescent speckles dance through the drab trees, and I'm happy seeing their strong little wings at work. Making magic, zipping and diving between branches and trunks.

"There was a bird on my head," I say to myself, with a little satisfied smile in my voice. "Can't be all that bad!"

I look down at where my body had been laying. I can tell that my bones had been here for a while. There are indents in all the right places. Bone indents though, not body indents. I really don't understand this. Which changes nothing of course. The world isn't going to stop and flip open the manual to the living skeleton FAQ suddenly just because I'm having a mild existential crisis in the woods. Hell with this, I'm done sitting. A new adventure: can we stand?

I lean back and put my hands behind me in the dirt and push my boney ass off the ground, lean forward and piston my legs up under me. SUCCESS! I raise my arms high in celebration of my achievement, my sweatshirt sleeves loose at the wrists, falling toward my elbows. I stand there like that for a moment, scanning my surroundings a bit again, now that I have a slightly higher vantage point. Still just in the woods. Just me in my little not-quite clearing. Ahem. I put my arms down.

I look down and take stock one last time. Skeleton body, slightly dirty. Sweatshirt, slightly dirty. I pat myself off as best I can, brushing loose little bits of lightly hardened clay and debris, knocking the bigger bits off my butt and the back of my legs. I give myself a little pat-down, my phalanges clacking lightly as they make their way down my tallish frame. I think I'm about 6 feet tall. I have literally no basis for that whatsoever, but I feel about 6 feet-ish. 6'1"? What's a half inch? Is that a good height for a skeleton? Am I slouching? Should I slouch? Maybe a slouch would make me more approachable.

"Yeahhhhh," I say as I slouch slightly, letting my arms dangle at my sides, "Just a cool skeleton guy, doing cool skeleton guy stuff.

"Wait, am I a guy?"

It feels like a big question, but a nothing question at the same time. I mean, who the hell am I in general? I feel guy-ish I guess? How do you tell with absolutely no context? I feel like... one'a the guys? That feels more like it?

"Like a duuuuuude," I apparently decide to say out loud. I swivel my hips side to side as I look around again and then give a little shrug.

I feel ok with being a dude. Dude-ish. Not man-ish. I'm definitely not a man.

"Just me, man. Just me. Just lil' old Ashleigh."

YO, WHAT?

That one shocks me. Way more than a lot of the other thoughts I've had in the past half hour or whatever since I've begun existing. I think my name is Ashleigh, and I'm about 6 feet tall, and I'm kind of a guy but not super a guy. I cross my arms. That's so much. Is that too much? Too much to take on in my head right now?

No, it's ok. It was just sudden, but it's right. I'm absolutely right about those things. Those things feel me, deep in whatever there is of me.

"Hi, I'm Ashleigh," I say quietly, a little to myself, a little to the starlings if they're still around. I can hear a squirrel or maybe a chipmunk rustling through leaves nearby, so maybe to them too. "Hi."

I wish I had thought to say this to my bird friend earlier. I hope I meet him again.

[hyprunivers]

The Adventures of Ashleigh the Living Skeleton

A Preface.

The other night my partner made a rare request of me as we were laying in bed getting ready for sleep. Tell me a story.

I think she's asked this one other time in our whole relationship. That time I half assed my way through a lost kitten story that went nowhere. This time I jumped right in with a lost kitten story BUT she called bullshit. So I made up a story about a living skeleton which actually went some places and I had fun telling it.

I've been trying to wake up some old writing muscles that I haven't used in ages, so I've decided to start telling the story of Ashleigh the living skeleton here. I don't know if I'll keep up with this, how often, how long; I have no idea. But I'm going to give a shot and share it publicly as a way of keeping myself honest.

I'm not anyone on Tumblr, so I doubt this will go many places beyond my small circle, but if anyone enjoys this, yay! If not, whatever! Anyway, let's talk about some skeletons. See you in part 1!

[hyprunivers]

Chapter 8: Spelling Mistakes.

"Uhhhh. Yes. Yes, I am a skeleton."

You know, it feels a little funny to just say it out loud to someone else, even if that someone is a skeleton too. A skeleton that I just woke up at the very least. Or made? Did I just make this guy? Skeleperson? Hey, wow, I like that. Skeleperson. I really don't think there was a full skeleton in that scarecrow a minute ago. I mean, there are some implications behind that. Have I been quiet too long? I know they asked me a simple question and I answered directly, but this feels like an answer that would require further elaboration.

"Um. I am a skeleton person. Mostly. I think." I make a vague gesture in a noncommittal way. In fact a just give a sort of active full body sway, like what are ya gonna do?

"Ok," they confirm, still looking at me with some confusion after another few seconds of consideration. But then the rest of their situation pops back up to top priority in their thought process and they take a look down.

"Am I a scarecrow!?" They discard their burlap head to the side and wiggle their arms in front of them, two thick straw sausages contained by red and black checked flannel casings, tied off at the end with twine.

"This! Man! This is weird!"

"Well, uh, no, I don't think you're a scarecrow. Or maybe you were? I really don't know how any of this works."

"Dude, I really think I'm a scarecrow. I've got... scarecrow arms. And legs. I feel absolutely packed with straw." Their legs briefly join the wiggle party, and then they reach up to touch their head again, bonking their skull with their hand-less arms.

"Yeah buddy. I'm a legit scarecrow."

"Oh, I mean, you were! Until a minute ago!"

"Yes, ok, but-" they also gesture uselessly with all 4 limbs, "consider- absolutely no crows."

"Well, it's nighttime."

"Hm."

"Ok, so. Can I do something?"

"I guess?"

"I'm gonna have to touch you, is that ok?"

They pause for a moment, pawing at the loose twine still around their chest and then looking back up at me.

"Yeah, ok. Just, go slow with whatever you're gonna do, ok? You're. You're a skeleton still."

"So, about that. I think... I think you are too," I say as I carefully grip one of their rubber boots and pop it off their foot, revealing a skeletal foot.

"No. Fucking. Way," they say rather calmly, considering they woke up to being one improbably alive thing and now they are another improbably alive thing.

"Yeah. Uh, sorry? But it's ok I think? At least for now? I'm a skeleton, too. And I found you, so I think we're ok for now."

"I think I need a minute," they reply, and then go mostly limp.

I recognize what they're going through. There's a lot of computing happening in there, and I have no right to rush the situation. No one in the house has noticed us yet as far as I can tell. I double check that the lights are still all off, and I see no movement- no curtains twitching aside, no doors slowly opening... no shotgun barrels poking out.... We have plenty of time.

I sit down a few feet away from the new skeleperson, at first a little unsure on how to arrange myself but deciding on the classic criss-cross-applesauce, which proves to be a somewhat noisy position to get into when you are only made of bones.

Some time passes. The night breeze feels nice on my... bones. I pull my hood back up over my head. I guess it fell down in the commotion earlier. I'm not cold, I just like having it up. I feel a little like I'm in my own cozy space, even though I'm still just out in the world. It's a comfort.

I watch my new companion, while trying not to make it obvious that I'm watching. I'm trying to give them space, but also let them know that I'm here if they need anything. Also we're both magic living skeletons, and we should probably stick together to figure out a plan going forward. But I don't want to assume too much, maybe they don't want to be friends. But I'd also like to encourage them to by my friend, I think I'd like to have a friend that's like me. This is all asking a lot of my body language, and also I'm sitting completely still. I'm suddenly extremely thankful that I do not have to worry about facial expressions.

Some time passes. I make a gentle clearing-my-throat sound. Not really to push them to act or say something, just a gentle reminder that I'm here. It seems to work.

"Oh, hey, sorry. I got kind of.... caught up in things. In my head. You know."

"I assure you, I really, really, know."

"So I'm a skeleton that's alive."

"Yes."

"And you are too."

"Yes."

"I was in a scarecrow."

"Maybe?"

They pause another moment.

"Maybe I appeared inside a scarecrow. And you found me. Or...."

Another pause.

"Or made me. Or woke me up somehow. Hm. Are we monsters?"

"Oh gosh! Wow! I don't think so! I don't feel any.... bloodlust? I've only really seen one person though. And from a distance. I feel like if we were monsters, I'd definitely have a drive to go mess that guy up. I haven't felt that at all yet."

"Ok. That's kind of a relief. I don't want to be a monster. We are still skeletons though, so people might get ideas. Wait, are we people? Were we people?"

"I really don't know. I've only been alive, or awake, since this afternoon. I don't remember any life before this one. I just woke up in the woods back there," I gesture back toward where I came from earlier in the day, "and came down here, looking around for... I don't know. Looking around. For you I guess."

"Wow. This is heavy. So we're not monsters. But man, do the monsters ever really think they're monsters?"

"I suppose you have a point there."

We both ponder the motivations of monsters for a few seconds.

"I think I want to stand up, but I'm really afraid that I'm going to fall apart. Please don't make fun of me. I'm really scared."

"Oh jeez. I would never. I just went through this a few hours ago. I think I'm still a little terrified."

"Yeah, ok. But just... I don't know. Sorry."

"It's ok. I'm your friend."

They look up when I say that and stare hard at me for a few beats. Then they nod, and hold out their right arm.

I get up as quickly and gracefully as I can, although neither of those words should apply to what I actually do to get into a standing position. I brush myself off, and reapproach my new friend. Standing above them I pause for a beat as well, looking down and nodding back, before grabbing tight to their outstretched arm and pulling them up.

Of course we are both idiots and fail, as there are still a few loops of twine around their chest- loose, but still binding them to the wood frame behind.

"OOF," they cough as the cord is pulled taught, my grip pulls free, and they flump back down to the ground.

"OH I'M SO SORRY!" I blurt, trying to be quiet again and glancing back at the still dark house. "I'm sorry, I'm stupid, I forgot about the twine!"

"Oh my god, that's ok, I didn't think about that. I just thought maybe I couldn't stand at all. Oh, that was scary."

"No, totally my fault!" I reply as I rush forward to pull at the thick string would around their midsection. "Got it!'

I toss the last of the hempen cord aside and grab their arm again, more tightly this time, and I lean back to help ease them up. A second later my new friend is standing before me.

"Whoa. Hey. Thank you for that. I'm standing now." They look around themselves a bit. "I lost one of my boots."

"Yeah, you did. Do you um, want to stay filled with straw? Is that too personal of a question?"

"Ha! No, not really. It's kind of prickly. I think I need to take all of this off though."

They reach up with their arms to start undoing buttons, forgetting that the sleeves are still tied off.

"Uh oh."

"Oh hey, I've got you!"

I grab their right arm-end with both my hands and undo the twine tying their sleeve off. Once that's done, I push their sleeve back a bit further up their arm to help the process, letting the straw spill out the end while exposing their bony hand.

"I feel like I should be bugging out a lot more. I'm like, a skeleton man." They move their new skeleton hand around a bit, twisting it, opening and closing it.

"Yeah, I don't know what that's about, but I felt pretty calm about it too. A lot of existential questions, but a distinct lack of existential terror. So are you a guy, then? You said 'skeleton man'."

"Heh. A lack of existential terror. Yeah, that's a good way to put it. And yes, I think... well, I don't know why I think this, but I do... I think I'm a man. Er, skeleton man. You know. Actually, I think my name is Danny. That's wild. Why do I think that?" He, Danny now, pauses to look up into my eyes. Eye sockets. "You're tall. Are you a guy too?"

"Ok, you asked a lot there. I'm... guy adjacent. Not a guy though. If that makes sense to you. I hope it does. And I knew that about myself too, as soon as I started thinking about it. I just felt it and I knew it was right." He looks at me a bit longer, then nods and looks down. I continue.

"Also as far as I know, my name is Ashleigh."

Danny looks back up at me.

"Well, hello Ashley, nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Danny. That's Ashleigh, though."

"Oh, sorry, with the 'e-i-g-h', yeah, gotcha. You bet."

We both let that carelessly pass, but then reassess what Danny just said.

"How did I just hear how you spell your name?"

"I really have no idea."

"And not just because you added italics, but also because I listened better to how you spelled it this time- that doesn't make any sense. That's a crazy thing to think."

"Maybe not crazy for a magic skeleton man. We'll figure this out together, either way."

"Will we?" I hear a bit of cautious hope in his voice.

"Absolutely, Danny." I grasp his now free right hand in my right hand, and cover our clasped hands with my left. "We'll figure it out together, my first friend."

I don't know how I know it, but I know we're both smiling.