The Fight (First Draft) (Title Subject to Change

Someone sneezes and I’m sent flying through the air. The world is really big, blurs of colour and sound, and I’m really very small. If I don’t land where I need to be, it’s going to be another long sleep until someone brings me back again. I don’t want to go to sleep though. This sleep isn’t anything like a normal sleep. It’s like dying only to come back to life in some unknown future. I miss out.

I fall into a bowl of peanuts. It’s like a smaller version of that ball pit I was in once before. Everyone’s hands were so sticky there. Here, the hands are much larger. One descends over the bowl and I hide behind a peanut until it’s lifted into the air. Then I cling to it, holding on for dear life. This is perfect, straight shot to the stomach and none of that pesky skin or noxious fluids to get stuck in.

Rolling around in this mouth for a while, I’m thankful I’m small enough not to be crushed by those huge, chomping teeth. Unlike that there peanut, you’re doomed, buddy!

I feel a blade on my shoulder and turn to face that cursed saliva. It’s going to be another fight for my life. I can’t believe I forgot about these idiots. Their medieval defensive strategies are legendary. My sword clashes against theirs amidst the crunch of peanut sludge. Gotta be careful not to get stuck. We parry for a few steps and I block each attack. It’s not easy with all the change of surface. I just need to bide my time, wait until this body swallows. They swallow much more quickly than they used to. It gives me a break from ridiculous sword fights with old-fashioned enemies.

My only chance is coming now. Dodging this next blow, I dive for the sludge and slip down the slippery pink slide of the oesophagus, a rollercoaster ride I should be more concerned about the end of. The last thing I want is to survive a fight with saliva only to be vaporised by the nuclear substances of the human stomach.

There! It’s a soft spot I can grab a hold of. I hang on just long enough to save myself from certain death and pull myself up. Pushing away the fold of tissue, a cosy waiting room is revealed. A cushioned armchair beside a fire: the perfect place to hide out. I stay there for a while, days at least, feeling warm and full and large. Everything is bigger. The room is starting to throb. My host gives a sudden hacking cough, large enough to topple me over. It seems my stay has come to a close.


Prompt: present a character in a negative light and make him/her redeemable to the reader


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