My stomach keeps grumbling. I think it's

My stomach keeps grumbling. I think it's trying to communicate with me.

My other organs vied for attention. My heart squeezed out its complaint. My brain rapidly fired signals of alarm. Meanwhile my stomach continued to

squirm as i ran through the streets.

The squirming stopped eventually, long after my legs had given out and the streets had run out. They must have shot me up with something. I was in a cage again. I wasn't the first.

I would've tried to escape from my cage, but my limps were jelly and the sweet smell in the air was making me sweaty. Hours must've passed by because soon I was lying in a lake

of limps that had unfurled from my folds in my absence from consciousness. I thrashed about and the whole mass got to whipping about in great confusion! My cage burst open, alimp.

Limping, I loped in the open air for the first time in what seemed like ever. I was free! But this wasn't the world I remembered. Everything looked flat and smooth, and there were

blood and fist fulls of cut flowers everywhere. I skidded through a puddle of blood, pushing my knotted and filthy hair from my eyes. Something had gone very wrong indeed with the

gardening class. One of the students had fallen into the wood chipper. "Well, that would explain it," I said as I calmly walked up and pressed the "STOP" button. The student was OK