Resistance

My resistance was low. I moved to a new location, but it didn’t help.

I was getting weaker every day. It was the chemicals that were being released.

It had been six days since the visit to the doctor. I would most likely die on day seven.

I found a place with lots of others. The others attacked me, I ran. I didn’t fit in. They followed. Eventually the others slowed and stopped chasing. They must have been weakened from the chemicals too.

No matter where I hid, there were chemicals. They were in the air I was breathing.

Minute by minute, hour by hour, I felt weaker. Why did everything here want to kill me? I was just trying to survive.

I found a small, seemingly private area. I barely managed to crawl to it. I gave birth.

This new one looked exactly like me.

Oh no, the others are back. I ran, dragging the new one with me.

They got my new one. It’s existence was extinguished before it even had a chance.

Minute by minute, hour by hour, I felt weaker.

I couldn’t make it much longer. I found a resting area and stretched.

I decided to travel upwards. The hills here were wet and sticky, but up I must go if I am to survive.

Slowly but surely, I traveled up. Tired, exhausted, I pushed on.

Out of breath, dying of chemical exposure, I pushed on.

Panic set in. I swam as fast as my flagella could carry me, seeking refuge from the relentless onslaught

More chemicals came sliding down the slimey cave I was in. My journey had become a desperate struggle for survival. With each passing moment, the chemical onslaught took a heavy toll on my weakened form. The once vibrant world around me now felt like a hostile, unforgiving dystopian apocalypse, intent on driving me to my death.

I knew my time was running out. The seventh day was upon me, and with it, the grim realization that I might not live to see another. Yet, I refused to succumb to despair. Some deep-seated instinct drove me forward, pushing me to cling to the fragile thread of hope that remained. I pushed on. I had to. I could survive, just needed to escape.

As I pushed onwards and upwards, the terrain became more treacherous. The wet, sticky hills seemed to be conspiring against me, planning on ending my life. I had to survive, if not for anything else, to spite this horrible, treacherous place.

Every step was a monumental effort, but I refused to yield.

My vision began to blur, and my movements became sluggish.

But as I made my final push, there it was. Light. I went towards it.

It was outside of the tongue. I was in the mouth of the man. He thought his antibiotics could kill me.

I left his mouth. I felt refreshed, renewed.

I saw his girlfriend. I knew her mouth was safe, so I went inside.