It all began when I woke in the night, yielding to the demands of my bladder. I went to the toilet. Cool vapors fumed up from the shaft, smelling of lavender.
Here I uncertainly backed away, tripped over something soft and soggy and fell heavily backwards into the softness of a carpet of mushrooms, which embraced me with a massaging passion. I rolled free and crouched in the darkness, panting.
Where was I? Try as I might, I couldn't remember the layout of my own bedroom.
"Where am I?" I whispered.
"Where you are," was the reply, in a soft echo.
As I pondered the meaning of this, my eyes slowly became adapted to the dark, and I made out the outlines of the door. The escape hatch. There should be a light switch by the door. I fumbled for the switch, but did not find it. Exit, then. I put my hand on the door handle. The cool metal twisted into jaws. Sharp, delicate teeth fastened on my flesh. A hard narrow tongue licked me.
"Please," I said, in a gasp.
Begging.
The teeth retracted. Forget the door. If this was the door, then the bed had to be directly opposite as I remembered. Wasn't that right? I fumbled and finally reached the round jellylike surface. I passed out.
At 06:30 a.m. the beeping of a horn awakened me. Remembering, I examined my right hand, the one the door had seized. There was the single dot of dried blood where one of the teeth had punctured my skin. No need to use the first aid kit, then. Not this time.
I showered, dressed and left for breakfast but I'd be back. The bedroom was the place where I might have a decent chance of surviving the nights or not.
So where would it all end?
"Let's not think about that," I said remembering the nocturnal night before where the chair bit off my last toe. Slowly I will be eaten up whole…slowly.
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