virgil.

one of the things that i like about underground places is that our response to them remains fairly archetypal. they are ignored things, or, when thought of, places we'd rather not go. alligators in sewers and fecal matter are, essentially, the same thing. graves, basements, and abandoned mines are all either places mummy and daddy tell us are dangerous, or contain monsters that we're smart enough to avoid. children are often afraid of drains, of things reaching through, or of slipping under themselves. i was. being afraid of the things people don't want to acknowledge or deal with anymore isn't the most unwise of fears. in fact, i think kids are brilliant for noticing. all this is to say that at the crossroads where kaitlin lives, there are two storm drains waiting to swallow children. the street has worn away around them, leaving huge gaps, complete with metallic teeth on top. even i could easily slip through. in fact, i'm not entirely sure these hellmouths are a temptation i can resist. i like the underground places. it is possible that this makes me slightly dull; no one reads paradiso, after all. but i'm not sure that is the worst of things.