From Week 3, Setting.
Where am I?
When I laid down last night, I was inside my tent beside a rippling lake, with a cooling breeze fluttering the tent flaps. This is–how can I explain it?–something akin to a marshmallow world. Every step sticks like marshmallow fluff. What were trees last night now look like cinnamon sticks smothered in the white sticky fluff. The cliff that was next to the shoreline is now slick with some kind of gooey brown goop. The footholds for climbing back to the top of the cliff are not visible.
How am I getting out of here?
Even the lake has become a solid mass of cold, white creamy stuff. Man, am I getting cold. I slip and fall into the lake. Licking this stuff from my hands tasted pretty agreeable to my hungry stomach. Becoming even more adventurous, I tasted this brown goop. Not bad, I said to myself. Tastes a little like chocolate fudge.
Why not try the other white fluffy stuff? Hey, this does taste like marshmallow fluff! I don’t know how I became part of this chocolate sundae, but maybe I can find my way out.
Then I woke up.