There Lay a Sleeping Woman

There lay a sleeping woman. She was in a wonderous, seemingly endless plain filled with beautiful wildflowers of all sorts. Terrestrial birds rustled and chirped from underneath the sea of colors. Gently interrupting the painted fields was a joyous brook. It was clear as anything, and through it swam resplendent little fish with scales that were almost blinding as they danced in the warm yellow light of the sun.

It would only be a few hours before the woman would wake, but it would be a gentle awakening when she did. She rolled over and shielded her eyes from the rays that beamed down at her from on high. She cast her gaze around with curiosity at first, blooming into an overwhelming sense of happiness and ease. Although, there was a slight disturbance. A tugging at the back of her brain informing her of something amiss.

She ignored the notion and instead ran about the grand prairie with aplomb. Basking in the radiance of the sun, voraciously inhaling the bouquet of aromas that the flowers presented her, running her fingers through the cool water, and singing with the birds.

Her hedonistic exploration of her new locale was interrupted by reverberation in her midsection—the familiar feeling of hunger. Her unique situation presented her with a challenge. She had never hunted or had to provide for herself. She had read fictional books about survival, but she surmised that those stories must be reasonably exaggerated. She sat for the next hour by the creek, snatching at fish as they flew by her, it took her a while to get accustomed to their movement, and she got close many times. She finally caught one, a beautiful creature, "almost a shame to kill it," she thought. But her needs were above those of the fish, so she ended its flailing by smashing its head. She didn't know what part was safe to eat, but she would have to guess to satiate her growing hunger.

The woman pried open the fish's stomach with her fingers, splaying open the creature on a large rock. She pulled out what she guessed were the organs and pushed them aside. Inside the fish, she found fresh pink meat. She had heard that people could eat fresh raw fish, so she scraped some from between the fish's delicate ribs and put it into her mouth.

The instant the fish touched her tongue, the tugging roared back up. The flesh was flavorless. She began chewing the fish and threw up, it had the proper texture, but she couldn't taste anything. She could feel the burn of the stomach acid in her mouth and throat, but there was no unpleasant taste. It was as if one of her senses had been plucked out of her mouth by some unknown force without her knowledge. She ran to the creek and rinsed out her mouth. Again, there was nothing. She ripped a flower out of the ground and stuffed it into her mouth. Nothing.

The woman was crying at this point, it had been half a day since her discovery, and in that time, she had crammed everything she could get her hands on in her mouth, desperate for a return in form. But none came. She had eventually choked down some fish and kept it down with water, but there was no feeling now, no joy associated with eating food to which she was accustomed. She passed out still crying, not able to comprehend what horror the following days would bring.

She awoke the next day with a sense of dread. The flowers no longer offered her amorous perfumes permeating from their petals. She could no longer discern the stench of the fish guts on her fingers. She just lay there wallowing in her despair.

The following day was worse. She couldn't hear the beautiful trills and chirrups of the roadrunners or the squawks of the quail. The tumbling water of the stream ceased calling to hear. She was slowly being isolated from the world. She began running downstream, taking breaks to regain her energy or drink. She knew that it had to end eventually, and she would find a way out. She passed out hours and miles later, completed exhausted.

She almost didn't wake up. It was as if she was simply a pair of eyeballs floating in space. She ran again, or at least she thought she was running. It was hard to tell. She tripped on a small rock and smashed her face into the bank of the river. She could only watch as blood streamed from her face, painting the flowers with her color. She looked down farther at her horrid twisted ankle, but without pain, she hobbled along the river, single-minded in her journey.

It was late as she approached her goal. She had seen it from a ways off about an hour back. A massive hedge or stunning red roses separated her from taking back what was once hers. She searched near the stream but found it disappeared into the thick of plants. With no other option, she began pushing her way through the hedges. The roses destroyed her last tie to the world as thorns met her eyes.

She was now just a brain. Set adrift in endless nothing, awaiting her fate. As she sent familiar commands to her appendages to move, she received no response. She could not bear witness as the rose hedge eviscerated her shell of a body.