“Pull it open!!!” I could hear them shouting orders, attempting to coordinate their efforts. I had no idea who they were and I wanted to help them, but the slime had completely immobilized me. It was dark, and getting darker. The good news was, I felt no pain. I felt nothing for that matter. The limpid goo must have commandeered my nervous system.
How long have I been in here? It seemed only moments ago I was investigating reports of a missing dog. Of all the cases I’ve worked on over the years, how does a missing family pet lead to my demise? I can’t recall. It’s all getting fuzzy.
The goo. I remember seeing the goo. It was in a small puddle in the middle of the trail. I thought it was water, but it doesn’t rain here. Why was I there again? Oh right, Mittsy. The Spencers’ dog. She had been missing for a few weeks. Or was it days? Hours?
The goo. It smelled like flowers. I found her collar. It was wet. Mittsy the Pomeranian. How did it get so wet? It doesn’t rain here. Sometimes it rains. Doesn’t it?
The goo. I remember touching the goo. It was dripping out of a flower. The blooms were gorgeous. The smell, exotic. Have I seen them before? Maybe it’s just déjà vu. Déjà visité. I’ve been here before. But I couldn’t have. I’ve never drowned before. Have I?
So this is how I die. The goo.
Swallowed whole. By a flower.