Dean sat in the cafeteria of New Lincoln High School, poking at his mashed potatoes with a plastic fork while glaring across the room at his greatest enemy and most popular girl in school, Samantha Ferris. His brown eyes bored into her startling blues, hate practically dripping between them. She was not only his enemy, but also rival in the unspoken popularity contest that drove high school politics. Like most who have achieved alpha status, territory has been carved in the unlikely battlefield of the cafeteria.

 

Dean has his followers, mostly the athletes and oddly enough, the outcasts and nerds of NLHS. Fulfilling his role as star quarterback for the varsity football team as well as having edged out Samantha in a critical top spot as president of the senior class, Dean felt like he was winning. He frequently taunted Samantha in her position as President of Student Council, which he viewed as a consolation prize for losing to him in the senior election.

 

Samantha, meanwhile, as the head cheerleader, has the rest of the cheerleaders as well as the overachievers, a particularly strong card in her favor, Dean mused. Samantha is the controlling force behind the dances, fundraisers, and student council, as well as coordinating volunteer efforts such as the very popular “Thanksgiving Food Drive”. She was seen as a paragon of girl-ness with her seemingly altruistic nature, her undeniable charisma, and the intense beauty of a teenage goddess. Those icy blue eyes, long black hair, tanned-not-in-a-salon-but-on-a-tropical-island skin and of course, the hourglass figure…at first glance, most males would be drooling. And they do.

 

 Dean prided himself on his immunity to her appearance and charms. Her goody-goodness in the public eye sickened Dean, because he knew what lay beneath that admittedly beautiful exterior. She was a cruel, cunning, venomous, manipulative, scheming, passive-aggressive, mask-wearing bitch, and very few people knew this about her. Their struggle has lasted four years, and with the school year winding down and the sunny and final school month of May upon him, he knows that he can finally escape the day-in and day-out grind that has been staying on top, so to speak, of the popularity race.

 

It is almost sad, he thinks, that he is really only strove to be popular because of the need to win in this struggle with Samantha. The football came naturally, sure, but Dean knew he wouldn’t have even run for class president if Samantha weren’t there to compete with him. He pondered, for a moment, that perhaps he is too vindictive of a person. And then he remembers what brought them to this struggle, and he again regains his focus. He had proven her wrong, after all these years, and she could stew in that realization. She couldn’t touch him now, and in a couple weeks, he would never have to see her again, his victory complete.

 

“Dude. You gonna eat those mashed?”

 

The question snapped Dean out of his thoughts and he focused on the source of the question: one of his two best friends, the bear of a linebacker, Ken Fenner. The six-foot-three, 250-pound man-beast never really stopped eating, and was a frequent raider of leftovers on his friends’ plates.

“Man, I don’t know where you put it. Oh wait, yeah I do.” Chimed in Leon Meadows, Dean’s other best friend, as he patted Ken on the stomach. He was the complete opposite of Ken, and as a successful wide receiver on the varsity team and the school’s star sprinter, he would have to be. While shorter than both Ken and Dean, neither could approach his speed in running the field or his mouth, which along with being one of the only African-Americans in the school has earned him the title “Black Lightning”, a moniker he wears with pride.

 

They were close, had been since the third grade when they joined peewee football together. They would be going their separate ways in college, with Ken and Leon playing football and different universities and Dean pursuing academics at a college on the east coast. They swore to keep close, but the separation would be difficult; they never went anywhere or did anything without the other two supporting and backing the other up. They have also been ardent supporters of Dean in his campaign against Samantha. They hated her nearly as much as Dean did, but they were less personally involved in the competition than Dean.

 

Pushing his plate toward an eager Ken, Dean sighed aloud. “We’re almost out of here. Almost done with the bullshit of high school. Almost done with the bullshit of…Samantha Ferris.”

 

“Man, just forget about her. That’s so over, am I right? She’s leaving here a loser, you’re leaving here a winner, ‘nuff said, right? She just glaring at you because she knows, she just knows that she is walking out of here as number two.” Countered Leon.

 

“Haha, number two.” Added Ken.

 

Dean nodded, but there was something about her today. They would normally glare at each other across the lunchroom as if mutually acknowledging that they still hated each other and oh yeah, fuck you, but today was different. The hate in her eyes was almost overwhelming, almost scary. She was probably just pissed that Dean was getting to speak at graduation due to his status as class president and she, as vice president, doesn’t. Shaking off the feeling, he just smiled at her and turned back to his friends.

 

“Like I said before, there is nothing she can do now. It’s done. My graduation speech is just going to be the final nail in the coffin.”

 

“You got that done already?” asked Leon.

 

“Yeah. I even got in a few subtle jabs at her during it, you know, bullshit about petty squabbling and being able to accept defeat. She’ll get it, she’s smart.” Dean laughed.

 

            Looking back at Samantha, it was only then that Dean noticed her sitting with a girl he had never seen before. She had long, curly brown hair, green eyes, and was nearly as striking as Samantha herself. She seemed to be talking to Samantha, who although listening, never wavered her gaze from Dean. It’s not like his class was that big, who could this girl be that he has never seen before? She was kind of hot, in an exotic, Mediterranean kind of way. She was also wearing a ring on her left hand with a dark red gem Dean could make out from across the room. She isn’t part of Samantha’s normal “crowd”, if you could call it that. So how was it that…

 

The bell rang, interrupting Dean’s thoughts and signaling that he had to book to the third floor for Earth Systems. Unfortunately, he shared that class with Samantha, but he wasn’t going to let that bother him anymore. He decided he would just ignore her until the school year ended, if he could. She was a stress he didn’t need.

             “I’ll meet you guys after next period.” said Dean, sliding out of the cafeteria seat and heading for the exit.

 

 Samantha was ready for the bell to ring, her mind made up to storm over to the arrogant ass-hat that was Dean Morgan and wipe that smirk off his face. For four years she has put up with his annoying posturing and uncanny ability to predict her goals and rob her of the spotlight.

 

She had come to this school ready to conquer and carve her name into the history of New Lincoln High School, determined to be the head of the hierarchy of her class. She remembered, that first day of school, her attempt to assert the beginnings of her dominance, running into what she had believed to be some loser nerd who would forever be at the bottom of the high school food chain. How was she supposed to know that the intense humiliation he suffered at her hands would drive him to be the most popular student in the entire school? She had underestimated him then, unaware that he already had a reputation as a phenomenal football player and was even already widely liked by a large population of the student body. She kicked herself for creating what had become her only roadblock to her goal as the most popular, most liked, and most deferred-to student.

 

She understood her strengths, though, and used them with the skill and subtlety of a master. It was no mistake that she has never deigned to acquire a boyfriend over her high school career: she found that being single was a huge boon when it came to manipulation, especially when one had the body she had. She worked hard for it, with frequent trips to the gym and the best care for hair, nails, and skin that her father could afford. Image is an important tool, and Samantha understood that. Others would notice her natural grace, and how she seemed to move with an ethereal surety of self that few others have attained. In other words, she was beauty and grace, wrapped up in a confident, albeit manipulative, five foot four frame. And all of it meant nothing in the face of Dean, the football hero. The hunk.  Samantha could no more deny Dean’s physical appeal than he could hers, but she saw through it.

 

She attempted to keep her cool over the course of lunch, but the announcement earlier that morning that he would be speaking at graduation and she would go completely unremembered after her years of hard work at this school had become too much to bear. With her focus on extra-curricular activities and activism, she had been edged out of the valedictorian top spot, ranking third in the class, and as Vice-President of the senior class, there was no way she was speaking at graduation with Dean in the picture. The past month, Samantha has taken to daydreams, fantasies of Dean’s fall from grace, or a football injury warping into a coma, or something. She didn’t know what she would do when she got up to confront him; logically, she knew she had nothing on him, no information to threaten him.

 

Then there are the obvious physical limitations, because as much as she would like to pound him into the ground, he almost has a foot of height and at least a hundred pounds of muscle on her. More than once, she could remember, he has used that fact to this advantage in the form of physical intimidation. She never let it show, she could never let it show, but it always frightened her a little bit, and she hated that about herself. Samantha liked to think of herself as fearless.

 

“So what is the deal with that Dean guy? He seems like a real tool.”

 

This came from the new girl, an attractive girl that Samantha seemed to remember being named Anna. That was one thing Samantha prided herself on: her ability to remember faces and names.

 

“Anna, you have no idea.”

 

“Why are you just staring at him?”

 

“Just using my imagination.”

 

“What, you mean like, making out with him or something?” Anna asked in a somewhat playful tone that made it seem less like a question and more like a prodding. A bit out of character, Samantha allowed herself to be prodded.

 

She broke her gaze from her enemy across the room to glance at the inquiring girl. She was beautiful; there was no doubt, although not on the same level as Samantha (few were). Her green eyes were so vibrant they appeared to burn, both with passion and it even seemed, fury. She didn’t know what it was about her, but Samantha felt she could trust this girl with the side of her that she typically hid from the other students.

 

“No, although if you didn’t know him, I could understand why you think that. He’s an asshole, through and through, believe me. His friends are just as bad. I just wish…” Samantha trailed off, failing to grasp the appropriate words.

 

“Oh, you can’t leave off there. What do you wish?”

 

There was a strange gleam in the girls’ eye when she said this, seeming to reflect in her large garnet ring, her voice reverberating with a note of menace. For the first time, Samantha wondered how this girl even got to sit right next to her. Sitting next to Samantha Ferris was an honor, a status symbol. Normally it was Samantha’s friend Tia who sat to her left, making idle chat and currying Samantha’s favor. Was she out sick today?

 

Samantha’s gaze returned to Dean, and her mind once again became a maelstrom of hateful thoughts. What would she wish on him? She couldn’t think of anything appropriate enough to really get across how amuch he has vexed her. What would truly be fitting, the perfect revenge?

 

Samantha pondered this for only a moment before the bell rang, interrupting her thoughts. Great, thought Samantha, now she had Earth Systems, the only class she shared with Dean. All she would be thinking about was how she had come up short.

 

“Hey, I’ll meet you after your next class, ok? This has been fun.” said Anna as she gathered her books together and took off with a wink.

 

Her mind already on how much she wasn’t looking forward to sitting through a class with Dean, Samantha absentmindedly nodded her head, stood up, adjusted her black silk skirt and proceeded to the cafeteria exit.

 

 

 

Dean watched Samantha walk in from his usual seat at the back of the classroom. The teacher loved to call on students who sat in the front row; those he felt actually cared about his special (or boring) brand of science. Of course, Samantha sat in the front, eager to answer any question that he would fire out over the course of the fifty-minute class period. Dean didn’t try anything immature, like shooting spitballs at the back of her head during, say, a class video as they sat in the dark, although he was tempted. To be honest, he was actually just relieved that she couldn’t glare at him with her back turned to him. At least, he didn’t believe she could, although she may try. Dean smiled at the image.

           

This brief smile melted from his face when he watched her walk in. As much as he tried, he could not help the fact that his overactive male hormones were screaming “Oh my god! Look at that body! OH MY GOD!” Normally, he could ignore these things when he was dealing with her face to face, his hatred overcoming any inclination to drool and beg to be touched by her. When he was farther away from her, when she didn’t know he was looking…it was easy to pretend that she was simply a beautiful girl who begged to be gawked at. Dean was careful to control the looks on his face, in case she ever caught him looking at her when there wasn’t a mutual hatred-stare involved. If she ever found out that he found her as attractive as everyone else did…that would be a strong card in her favor.

 

She walked through the door, thankfully not looking for him but instead ignoring the fact that he was there. Sweeping her long, straight black hair out of her eyes with one hand, the other holding her books in the crook of her arm, which was bare to the shoulder, fingernails black today. She wore a low cut tan tank top, showing off her amazing chest, with a black cloth jacket that was very short sleeved. Her black silk skirt reached to her knees and only hinted at the beautifully shaped legs underneath. She wore black flip-flops, her long toes tipped in black. Dean would never admit it to anybody, but he found her feet attractive. To be honest, there wasn’t much about her that wasn’t attractive, the care she put into every part of her body from hair to toenails was extensive.

 

She sat in her usual seat, and as Mr. Platt began to drone on about the cretaceous period, Dean found himself watching Samantha. She was slipping her feet in and out of her flip-flops, playfully slipping the throng of the sandal in-between her toes, lifting them, and letting the fall. Just typical idle girl foot play. Dean then noticed a tattoo she on the side of her right foot: a black-lined flower, possibly a lotus, below the ankle. He had never noticed it before; perhaps she had a bit of a wild side. Isn’t that what tattoo’s meant at this age? Regardless, Dean let his eyes shift between watching Samantha and feigning interest in Mr. Platt’s droning speech. It was nice, for a while, to imagine that this was just some random hot girl, no harm in looking.

 

The period shot by fast, and when the bell rang, Dean shot up from his seat and hurried out the door. As was typical this time of day, he met Ken and Leon by his locker, which was just to the left of the door to Earth Systems. They weren’t there yet, as their class was on the second floor, so Dean opened his locker to deposit his books. After emptying his backpack, he closed the locker door, only to face-to-face with Samantha, a look of hate etched upon her face.

 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” opened Samantha.

 

“And you seem to be talking to yourself. I wouldn’t do that if I was you, it might damage your reputation.” countered Dean, grinning and turning back to his locker. Samantha just continued to glare at him.

 

“I’m sorry, did you have something else to say? I’m kinda busy here.” sighed Dean, knowing exactly what to say to push her buttons. There was nothing that pissed her off more than being treated like she wasn’t important.

 

“You don’t deserve to talk at graduation. You don’t deserve to be class president. Those things were supposed to be mine.” said Samantha.

 

“Listen, Sammy, this is almost sad. You are just going to have to deal with the fact that I won, you lost: it’s over. You have no one to blame but yourself. So get over it.”

 

“You’ll get yours, Dean. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but one of these days, your arrogance and ego will be the end of you.”

 

“You are going to talk to me about arrogance? You, Queen of Entitlement? You are living in a dream world, Sammy. You just don’t know how to deal with being second best, and I wish I could help you with that, but I don’t know what that’s like, so…”

 

A voice came from behind Samantha.

            “You lost, Queen Bitch?” said Ken with a cackle.

 

Samantha spun around, a look of murder in her eyes.

 

“Yeah, you were just leaving, right?” followed Leon.

 

Samantha looked back and forth at Leon and Ken for a moment, then turned back to Dean. Her voice became shaky and her next sentence practically dripped venom.

 

“I just wish you and your friends would know what it’s like to be completely unnoticed, invisible to those around you. And when you fall from grace, to know that in the end, it was me who destroyed you.” With that, Samantha stormed off down the hallway.

 

“Sore loser.” said Dean, breaking into laughter.

 

“Man, she got a problem. Bitch is crazy. All “I wish” like she got some evil genie or something.” added Leon.

 

            “Aw, Just forget about her. Let’s get out of here.” Said Ken.

 

            With that, the three began to walk toward the stairwell, unaware that another figure in the crowded hall had been following the entire conversation, a hateful glint in her green eyes as she rubbed her garnet ring and whispered, “As you wish.”

 

            Dean, Ken, and Leon never made it to the stairwell.

          

 

 

Dean awoke to darkness, a moan escaping his lips. Other than noticing the complete lack of light, he noticed he felt sore all over. Every joint, every muscle felt like it had been stretched too far, as if he had overdone it at the gym. That’s weird, thought Dean, the last thing I remember is…walking to the stairwell. Did I get jumped and dumped in a closet somewhere? Where the hell am I?

           

A slight breeze rolled past him, and as he got to his feet, his eyes adjusted to the dark, albeit marginally. Reaching into his pocket, he found his cell phone. Flipping it open and using it as a makeshift flashlight, he took a look at the ground.

 

“What the fuck?” he said aloud as he examined what he was standing on. He stomped is foot, then reached down and gave the floor a press with the palm of his hand. It was an almost-rubbery black material, unlike anything he had ever seen. It was obviously artificial, so he decided he had to be inside somewhere. Peering into the darkness and once again feeling a gust tugging at him, Dean was sure he was outside; he had a feeling he was in a wide-open space. Was it some sort of domed football stadium? Was this some new sort of artificial turf? Questions raced through his brain, but no answers were coming. He took another step to begin exploring just how far this place went when he heard a moan to his left. “Shit!” he yelled, startled at the noise. He wasn’t alone? Walking toward where he heard the sound, he only took a few steps before his foot hit something, causing another groan to escape the unseen figure on the ground.

 

“Man, what the fuck…who’s kicking me?” said the figure on the ground.

 

“Oh hey man, Leon, is that you? What the fuck is going on? Here, grab my hand,” rambled Dean, relieved that he wasn’t alone in the alien football stadium but still frightened by his predicament. Maybe Leon could tell him how they got here?

 

“Where the fuck are we?” asked Leon, squashing Dean’s hope. So they were both on the same very confused page.

 

“I have no idea, dude. I just woke up a couple of minutes ago, stiff as fuck, in some pitch black like…outdoor arena or something. Hey, is Ken with you?” Dean asked, now aware that his last memory involved walking with Leon and Ken. Ken must be here too, somewhere, Dean reasoned.

 

“I got no idea, man. This is fucked up. We get drugged or something? And I ask again, where the fuck are we? Stuck in a goddamn nightmare, that’s what.”

 

“Alright, let’s just call his name and hope that he’s in earshot. KEN! KEN, WHERE ARE YOU!” Dean cupped his mouth and shouted, sure that Ken would be nearby. Leon joined in, but there was no response. Dean was hesitant to walk far from where they were standing to search, due to the fact that he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness that surrounded him.

 

“Maybe he got away or something.” suggested Leon.

 

“Yeah, but got away from what? What is happening man?” asked Dean, not really expecting an answer.

 

While not an answer, something monumental happened then. As if someone flipped a switch, light poured in front of Dean and Leon, momentarily blinding their darkness-adjusted eyes. It seemed to be spilling across a vast horizon, an instant sunrise with no sun. The sky overhead remained pitch black. Blinking away the spots in their eyes caused the sudden influx of light, Dean could make out his surrounding a little better; The black plane that he and Leon stood upon seemed to stretch forever in most directions, although Dean thought he could see an end to surface far ahead, toward the light. The light also appeared to be cut off by a straight line in the sky far beyond the two, as if a gigantic curtain was draped across the sky.

 

“Dude…where the fuck…this place doesn’t make any sense!” shouted Leon, his voice trembling just slightly. Dean had never seen his friend so rattled. To be honest, Dean himself had never been so completely unsure of what was going on. It was then he noticed a building far to the left, perhaps a football field away. It was a gigantic black column, stretching into the sky and…curving? Dean couldn’t quite make out where the top of the building went, but he didn’t care. A building meant people! Dean didn’t have to point it out to Leon: he was staring at it as well, hope in his eyes. Then he started running toward the structure, with Dean in tow.

 

“Whooooo! Hello! Anyone there?” shouted Leon as they approached the tower.

 

Now that they were closer, Dean knew there was something wrong. He couldn’t see any doors, any windows, nothing. He approached the gigantic column, placing his hand upon its side, and noticed something he found puzzling: the skyscraper-sized column was made of the same material the ground was. Slightly porous, but otherwise uniform, this was just an extension of the ground, like some sort of alien mountain.

 

“I just don’t get it, man. I just don’t get it. Nothing makes sense anymore.” Said Leon, shaking his head as he sat on the ground, his back to the column. The column was so big, that although round from a distance, it seemed more like a wall that extended maybe eighty feet before starting to curve around.

 

Dean looked beyond the column, where the black turf seemed to extend forever, and he thought he could make out a white speck in the distance; it was so far away Dean had no idea what he could be looking at. It’s too far away to investigate anyway, Dean told himself, sliding down next to Leon.

 

“Well,” began Dean, looking over to the defeated looking Leon, “What’s next?”

  

Ken was sweating, panic settling in, as he looked around, seemingly lost in a black desert. He awoke to bright light, more sore than he has ever been after football practice, and to top it off, he was all alone.

 

Wasn’t I just with Dean and Leon? thought Ken, trying to remember what events led him to this strange place. The last thing he remembered was walking through the doors to the stairs on the third floor at school, and then waking up to this. He could make out three gigantic structures, one far in the distance ahead of him and one to either side of him, all of them miles away but obviously extreme in height. With nothing better to do, he decides to start walking toward the one far ahead of him, the direction the light is coming from.

 

He hadn’t walked two hundred feet before part of the sky lifted, simultaneously revealing more light and having the light blocked by an object in the sky so enormous that Ken couldn’t even begin to figure out what it could be. Backlit as it was by the light, it just seemed an enormous shadow reaching out toward him. Instead, it grabbed hold of the top of the enormous pillar far ahead; the very one he had just begun walking toward.

 

All of a sudden, the entire landscape began to be dragged toward the light, knocking Ken to the ground. The light grew brighter as the world above him raced by, until he fully passed into the light and the landscape ceased to move. His eyes now adjusting to the light, he sat up. He could only make out that beyond the black plane, hazy and startlingly bright colors composed the world that he was stuck in. As he began to understand what exactly he was looking at in the world beyond the black plane, a shadow overtook him. Looking up, he found a peach sky descending, a grooved roof on the world lowering, and as it drew closer, Ken suddenly realized how oddly familiar everything was, and connecting all the dots, began to scream.

   

            Samantha stirred beneath her covers, her internal alarm clock alerting her that is was time to get up and prepare for the school day ahead. Samantha always awoke a couple hours before school began, a necessity when one had image to maintain. Yawning and flinging the covers off of her, she got out of bed and walked out of her bedroom door to the bathroom, her eyes adjusted to the dark of her room and hallway.

           

After using the restroom, showering, and brushing her teeth, she walked out of the bathroom back to her room, this time turning on the light so that she could get dressed for the day. Having already set out her outfit for the day (black leggings, short skirt, and lacy white spaghetti-strap top complete with hooded black cloth jacket to cover her shoulders) she dressed quickly.

 

She paused to consider what shoes would compliment her outfit best, deciding then on her black flip-flops. It was a no-brainer, it being as hot as it was outside and having the urge to show off the pedicure she got the other night. For a moment, she forgot where she had put them; when one had as many pairs of shoes as she did, it was easy. While her closet was nearly full of shoes, the shoes she wore more often she often stored under her bed.

 

            She sat on her bed, reaching under with one hand to grab both shoes by the thong. Pulling them out, she quickly dropped her feet into them, sliding them until she had a grip. Ready to start the day, Samantha sat on her bed, hoping for a moment that for the first time in months, maybe today things would go her way. If she was really lucky, Dean would be out sick today and she wouldn’t have to deal with him. She allowed this fantasy to ease her into a pleasant mood, standing up and walking out of her bedroom door.

 

 

When the enormous hand backlit by the glaring light of the room reached to grab hold of the thongs of the shoes, Dean and Leon were too shocked to even stand up. Their angle allowed them to fully take in the fact that it was a human hand of incomprehensible size reaching toward them, the structure upon which they leaned finally recognized.

 

             As the fingers gripped the high end of the tower they leaned upon, Dean’s mind raced. We’re on a fucking shoe! This is a fucking shoe! Whose shoe? How can we be here? How fucking small are we? Oh my god this is a fucking flip-flop! His mind reeled at the realization that he and his friend were somehow so small that they hadn’t realized it was a shoe they were lost upon. As the fingers pulled them into the light, another thought settled in, deepening their dread: they were on someone’s shoe, and that shoe was about to be worn. 

            Now completely bathed in light, Dean had a moment to look around, his eyes now fully adjusted. Bright colors in the world beyond took shape, becoming walls and carpet. Pink walls? White carpet? Must be a girl’s room; this thought comforted Dean just a little. This preference, ridiculous as it must seem, as regardless of sex he is still basically a speck on someone’s shoe, still made him feel better about the situation. Then came the inevitable rumble, a vibration in the “ground” that signaled that a foot was being slid into place. Dean’s mind raced, looking for anything that could save them. It was too far to the end of the shoe, and when she began walking, they would fall off anyway. That was a hell of a fall down to the ground. Then he remembered where they were standing: directly in front of the sandals’ thong.

 

            “Dude, just put your back to this wall. We are in the safest place we can be.” Said Dean, backing up and placing his back against the black tower. Leon quickly joined him, the time for debate or questions just not available.

 

            Just as soon as they got into position, two gigantic walls shot by either side of the teenagers. Dean looked up and watched these gargantuan living structures that were some girls’ big and second toes slide into place. They were the height of buildings, a couple hundred feet at least. Dean was never too good at spot estimating size; there were no windows to count the increments of ten feel like a normal building would have. The toes stretched far into the distance as they came to a stop, their tips coming together at the very end. To Dean, it was like standing at the end of a living canyon. Admittedly, most canyons didn’t have a tan line, but…the effect was the same.

 

The smell of flowers overcame the boys. There were still small beads of moisture on the walls of toe canyon. “Well, either she is sweating or just got out of the shower, I guess. Shower would be nice, toes typically are not on the up-and-up when it comes to smelling good.” Dean thought to himself. He was terrified, but he couldn’t help making light of the situation. He knew that if he truly let his new size get to him, he would in all likely hood go insane; anyway, Leon wasn’t coping with this as well as he, and he needed to be strong for the both of them.

 

“Holy fuck dude! We are so dead! So dead, man! You see how small we are? Just dead, man!” screamed Leon, holding his hands to the side of head in a melodramatic fashion.

 

“Leon, just…just calm down, okay? You aren’t helping by freaking out on me. We need to have a plan. We have no idea when she’ll start to walk-“

 

As if on some sort of cosmic cue, it was then that the world around them began to move, the flesh canyon compressing as the foot did it’s job supporting the weight of its owner. She was standing up.

 

“Hold on!” shouted Dean.

 

“To what?!” replied a panicked Leon.

 

Dean did his best to hold onto the toe thong that they had been standing against, attempting to find a purchase for his fingers. Leon copied Dean’s movements, trusting his friend had the right idea. Neither was prepared for the simple action of a teenage girl taking a step. As their world tilted, without a secure handhold, the two did what any two objects their size would have in that position: they fell.

 

Dean hurtled end over end, losing sight of his friend as he fell what he believed to be to his death. Just as abruptly as he was thrust through the air, he felt his decent stop as his back hit a wall. Reacting on instinct and thrusting his hands out behind him to grab onto anything that would secure him, he found handholds in living grooves. He turned himself around, gaining footholds in the process, and pressed himself up against the warm wall of flesh until the world he was now a part of took a moments rest. In that moment, he turned his head and gazed out to figure out just where he had ended up. Ahead of him he took in a wide gap to another flesh wall, where he could see a dark form in the same predicament as he.

 

Dean had avoided death in the strangest way possible; he was now grasping to the side of the unaware girls’ big toe. As this realization sunk in, the flesh shifted slightly, and his world began to tilt again. She was taking another step, one of many she would be taking, he assumed, until she reached where she wanted to go. With that bit of obvious logic, Dean held on for dear life, hoping that Leon could hold on too.

  

Ken couldn’t believe his luck, for good or bad. As he quivered on the ground, he realized that he wasn’t dead, so in that regard, he was the luckiest guy around. On the other hand, though, he was incredibly small and on the shoe of some giant human being. His life had flashed before his eyes as he saw the sky, in the shape of a foot, fall down on him and he wasn’t the least bit ashamed that he screamed. After all, it’s easy to be brave when there are a handful of people in your state that are taller than you, but it isn’t so easy to act tough when you are roughly the size of a grain of salt.

 

But here he was, still alive, and he owed it to the fact that whoever’s foot this was, they weren’t flat-footed. He was safely underneath the arch of the foot. Regardless of his current safety, he knew that it wouldn’t last. She could start walking at any time.

 

I got to get out of here, or I’m dead. But where the hell can I go that would be safe? Man, I wish Dean were here. He would know what to do. He always knows what to do. Now where can I get that would- Ken’s thoughts were interrupted as the environment around him began to move. Looking behind him, he saw a sight he realized he might have to get used to: Her heel was lifting, and it seemed as unreal to him as would a mountain suddenly lifting up under its own power. The ground he stood upon began to tilt, and with it Ken lost his footing, falling flat on his stomach, and began to slide. Thrusting an arm out to turn onto his back, he realized that he was sliding to his doom: he was in a rapid decline down, past the safety of the arch of the foot and sliding toward the toes…if he made it that far.

 

His arms flailed, trying to find a purchase onto the ground, but his fingers couldn’t penetrate the foam of the sandal. As he slid farther down into shadow, the sandal began to right itself. He knew his time was running out, he had to make it to the toes or the ball of the foot would crush him utterly. He tried to steer himself, but to no avail; he couldn’t tilt himself one way or another, he was falling too quickly.

 

Come on, come on, come on! Almost there! Ken thought as he sped toward the gap between the fourth and pinky toe. He could see the bottom of the foot descending now as he slid, and as he was just about there…the surface he slid upon tilted the other way and his fall was arrested. He began to fall backward, back the way he came, but his time, he knew, was out. He came to a stop and was only able to pause for a moment to glance up at the wrinkled, peach-hued ceiling before it came crashing down, crushing him into an unnoticeable red speck on the sole of the unknowing girl.

  

Samantha walked out her front door after a stop in the kitchen, where she picked up her lunch. She hated the filth they served at school, and she had dietary standards to fulfill; her body didn’t make itself lean and fat-free. The uncharacteristic joy she felt today continued as she happily strolled to her car, the steady flap flap of her flip-flops slapping against the soles of her feet. Climbing into her fiery red convertible, she put the top down, turned the radio up and began her drive to school.

    

 

 

 

Dean was struggling to maintain his sanity. He found that looking on the positive side, seeing the glass half-full as it were, might be just the thing he needed to keep his brain from leaking out of his ears. From his current location, having managed to climb to the top of the big toe, he could be grateful for two things: one, the big toe he was hitchhiking upon belonged to a female, evidenced by the nail polish he viewed expanding in all directions. It was black and shiny, and even at his size it seemed immaculate. Professional job, so the girl must take care of herself. And it was black…so…well he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. He was a bit proud of his detective work on this, and it put him at ease to know that maybe it was some hot chick that he was catching a ride with; it was a better mental image than some creepy, burly dude or a gnarly grandma. Dean knew he was reaching. Well, when your entire reality is redefined, you gotta find a bright light somewhere… 

            The second thing that he could discern from his location on the toenail was that he on her left foot, was in a car, and the car had an automatic transmission. He watched as the other foot, taking up most of the sky, moved back and forth between what he assumed were brake and gas pedals, as he couldn’t really make them out. The foot he was on stayed motionless, for the time being. He knew that Leon was on the second toe, but he hadn’t seen him since they were thrown apart. Dean trusted that Leon could take care of himself, for the time being, but his goal at the moment had to be to meet up with him so that they can figure out what to do together. At this size, anything could happen, and Leon could be gone in a flash. He wouldn’t allow his mind to go there, because that would make him alone in this new and frightening world.

             Dean took a look around him, trying to decide which way would be the best to reach Leon. Traveling down the toe over to the main mass of the foot seemed like the best idea, as not only could he reach Leon that way, he would also be off the constant movers that are toes. Dean had spied enough feet in his lifetime to know that girls were almost constantly flexing or wagging their feet and toes back and forth. I’m actually pretty lucky that she is such a calm driver; her movements have been relatively undramatic. I hope she has a long drive ahead of her… 

            As soon as Dean allowed that thought to play across his mind, his greatest (or perhaps most current, as was likely the case) fear had come true. Her other foot had lifted off the gas and the break, and the movement of the world beyond her left foot seemed to stop as well: she was parking. Dean quickly ran to the corner of the toenail, where the nail butted skin, in an attempt to brace for movement that may shake him loose. Human beings, if nothing else, know how to adapt and adjust to any situation, and Dean was no different. This was why, as he ran to the six foot flesh colored wall, he processed it as a six foot flesh colored wall, and not as the actual flesh connected to a titan’s toenail.

 

            Nestling himself in the corner and grabbing with all his might to the skin on either side of him, Dean prepared himself for the worst, hoping that Leon had found a secure place as well.

  

            Samantha parked her car in her designated spot, as close to the doors as a student can park, the same parking space every time. Being the most popular girl in school had its perks. Slipping her keys into her stylish black leather purse, she steps out of the car. Before making her way to the front entrance of New Lincoln High School, she pauses for a moment, again questioning just why she is in such a good mood today. Call it woman’s intuition, I guess. Running her fingers through her hair to assure that not a strand is out of place, Samantha began a brisk walk, making her way to the front door and first period.

  

            “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

 

            Leon was panicked, scared, and at wit’s end. He was not coping well with this sudden turn of events in his life. After being thrown through the air and grabbing hold of the first thing he crashed into, he had finally come to understand just how insignificant he was. He knew he was clinging for life to, of all things, a toe. He clung as it flew through the air, every step threatening to jar him from his position gripping the striations on the side of the toe.

 

            “This fucking gigantic thing…like a toe cruise ship. I’m on a toe cruise! Ha ha! Oh god…”

 

            Leon, on top of experiencing the fear that anyone would face in a situation, was also dealing with an extreme case of vertigo, due to his fear of heights, a fear he had never admitted to anyone.

 

            “It’s ok, it’s ok, just start climbing man….as soon as you stop moving, that is. Man, why am I talking to myself, I’m crazy, I’m going crazy, this is some crazy shit.”

 

            The world around him stepped into shade, and came to a stop. For now, his ride was still.

 

            “Now’s the time, man…now’s the time. Gotta get to the top of this, come on man, just hand over hand, you got this, YOU GOT THIS!”

 

            He was, from his estimation, about thirty feet from the top. He looked up for only a moment and soon thought better of it, figuring he would stare straight ahead at the wall of flesh until he had made it to the top. It took a few minutes, as fear is sometimes a great motivator.

 

            Having made it to the top, he looked down onto a black plane, square in size, surrounded by fleshy hills. Farther in the distance, he saw other black plains, painted toenails, at the end of long cylinders of flesh; the rest of her toes. So, he was on a girl’s foot. He was then able to process his position, straddling on the second toe. Looking behind for only a moment, he saw a toe that dwarfed the others, rising higher than his current position, making it impossible to see the top. He looked to see if Dean had made it, perhaps hitched a ride like he had, but he saw nothing. He was gone.

 

            “Oh god I’m alone! I’m alone. Now I gotta get this bitch’s attention all by myself…shit. I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. FUCKED! What am I gonna…what…”

             The ground beneath him moved briefly, knocking him over and sending him down the side of the toe, and he landed on the toenail. The fall wasn’t far, but he had knocked his elbow, and clutched it now in pain. Her whole foot hadn’t moved, just her second toe, a casual movement. He sat down in defeat, shutting his eyes and repeatedly opening them in the vain hope that this nightmare would disappear and he would wake up. I just want things the way they were! I was on top of the world, football scholarship, gonna go pro. Now this shit’s gotta happen.  

Just when he believed things couldn’t get any worse, she began to move her foot; she was taking a step out of the shade. He struggled to find a footing or grip on the nail, his hands scraping against black paint, but to no avail. He slid down the nail toward the front of the toe, and saw his doom far in the distance; the pavement. Rapidly approaching the edge of the toenail, he prayed that he might pass out in the miles long fall before he reached the pavement. And just like that, the foot straightened out as it hit ground, just as Leon reached the edge. He held on to whatever he could, the thickness of the nail being almost exactly his height, as he dangled over the edge.

 

Before she could take another step, he swung his leg up onto the “ledge”, attempting to pull himself up the other way. Before he could completely make it, the foot was taking another step, the toe flexing up into the air. The force of the movement kept Leon in place, and although he attempted to pull himself up again, she was walking too quickly to give him any time to escape his predicament. As the cycle repeated, Leon thought, Might as well just hang tight until she gets to where she is going. Then I’ll be able to pull myself up, and I’ll be safe.

 

He knew he would not be safe then, or perhaps ever, unless he found a way to reverse what was done to him. But he had to convince himself, to hope. That was the only way he wasn’t just going to let go and end it all now.

    

           

  

           

    

 

 

 

 

Samantha walked toward her first class of the day, which was also her favorite subject: study hall. While she may be an straight A student, she was also a teenager, and enjoyed the total lack of learning that went on in a study hall. As it was near the end of the year, the teachers of New Lincoln High has also checked out mentally, so study hall had become more of a “social” hall. Samantha walked through the door of the expansive room that study hall took place in, toward the same table she sat at every time. She found that her good friends, Tia and Sara, were standing at the usual table, pulling out chairs opposite each other from the square table.

 

Samantha automatically accessed their looks, an side effect of her position in the “popular” hierarchy. Tia was wearing a brown spaghetti-strap top, leading to a pair of dark Capri jeans and some cute brown flip-flops. She wisely chose a color that would accentuate her naturally olive-hued Mediterranean skin. Tia was a beauty, her face all angles, her black hair layered and shoulder-length, her large brown eyes expressive (aided, of course, by mascara) and her body was what you would expect from someone on the school’s swim team.

 

Sara was almost as opposite from Tara as you can get, minus the whole personality thing. Tia and Sara were cut from the same cloth there, thought Samantha; both of them were airheads. If they had an original thought in their bodies, Samantha figured either reality would blink out of existence or Hell, should it exist, would freeze over. Being friends with them just made sense, they were beautiful and knew how to dress. Sara typically wore bright colors to contrast her pale white complexion, and today was no different. She wore a lacy white spaghetti-strap top, perfectly matching the short flowing pink skirt that fell from her hips. She wore black flats on her feet, and pale pink lipstick to complete her look. Her long blond hair fell around her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face, and her dark blue eyes were, as usual, lit up with enthusiasm.

 

“Oh my god, Samantha, you look so cute!” said Sara, taking a seat in her usual spot, to the right of Samantha at the table.

 

“Oh for sure, for sure. God, I love that skirt! I could never get away with something cut so short!” gushed Tia, who also sat down, to Samantha’s left, as she complimented Samantha.

 

“Why, thank you ladies. I was feeling gutsy today, I guess.” Samantha sat down in the chair, crossing her left leg over her right, and turned her attention to Tia. “Tia, you weren’t here yesterday, so I couldn’t show you. I went to Ramon’s”

 

Tia understood the implication, and a wide smile flashed across her face. “Wow! That must have been super expensive, you have to let me see.”

 

With a smirk, Samantha set her left foot back on the ground, slid both feet out of her flip-flops, and gently placed them in Tia’s lap. Admiration as well as a hint of jealousy lit up Tia’s face as she placed her hands underneath Samantha’s toes, running her thumb over the nails to feel out the seamless quality of the work.

 

“You’re so gutsy, wearing black like this.” Said Tia, sliding her hands out from under Samantha’s feet. “Someone might think you’re, like, a goth or something!” she added, giggling and running her hand through her hair.

 

“Oh come on, a goth? Please. You know Samantha has more class than that!” exclaimed Sara, rolling her eyes and digging into her purse, pulling out a small container and a plastic spoon.

 

“Sara, really? It’s first period. You can’t wait for lunch?” asked Tia, an annoyed look etched across her face as she stared disbelievingly at the container.

 

“Hey, I didn’t have time for breakfast, and anyway, it’s low-fat.” spat Sara, peeling off the top of the yogurt cup.

 

Samantha slid her feet out of Tia’s lap, noticing a couple specks on her left big toe that wasn’t there before. Could the nail be chipping already? Did Tia chip it? She quickly slid her thumb across the surface of her nail, and found that the specks came off. Whew, she thought, that was a relief. She saw that the speck was stuck to the side of her thumb, and after taking a brief moment to try to figure out what they were, just assumed they were from her flip-flops and absentmindedly flicked them off in the direction of Sara, who didn’t notice the specks as they flew from Samantha’s thumb toward her just-opened container of yogurt.

 

 With that, she slid her feet back into her shoes, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “Yeah, that’ll be the day. Why would I want to spend my days thinking about death? Super lame, right? Death is the furthest thing from my mind. Actually, today has made me looking more on the bright side. You seen Dean around?”

 

Sara scoffed. “Psht, no. But then again, I never see him around. Guy is like, invisible to me.” The dejected look on her face as she stirred her strawberry yogurt said otherwise.

 

Samantha grinned. “Yeah, well…I heard you asked him to Prom, and he said no. Sour grapes, perhaps?” She laughed.  “I guess I’m just hoping I won’t see him today. It would really, just, you know, make the sun shine a little brighter.”

  

Leon was holding on for his life, but knew he couldn’t hold on indefinitely. Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer, his hell-ride came to a halt. Taking advantage of the stillness, Leon pulled himself up onto the nail with a grunt and an exasperated sigh. Realizing that she could move at any moment, he took off toward the back edge of the nail, his mind focusing on the corner where he could brace himself from being jostled. He was halfway across when all of a sudden, his living landscape moved again, and without anything to grab onto, fell into a slide. Luckily, this slide was in the opposite direction of the fall to his death, so as he slid, a grin fell across his face.

 

“Whoo! Finally catching a break!” he said to himself as the wall of flesh that was the back edge of the nail and his destination slid closer. He hit with a small thud, then looked for a purchase for his hands. He was in the middle, as opposed to the corner, so didn’t find an easy to hide in nook for himself. Before he could find a grip, sudden movement threw him to his back, and he began to slide back. This time, the world around him moved in a more vertical motion, and he was pressed to the surface.

 

Leon likened the motion to when he was a kid, and had stepped onto a roller coaster for the first time: He was frightened, closed his eyes and felt like he was being thrown through space. When he finally came to a stop, he opened his eyes to see where he ended up. Then he began to scream. Far above him, yet taking up his entire sky, was a girl’s face. Black hair spilled down, framing her face, as she seemed to gaze down at him in amusement. It only took a second, but he recognized her: It was Tia, someone he remembered as one of Samantha’s good friends. He lay on the nail, motionless, in shock at the situation. She doesn’t see me, he thought, no recognition or hint of surprise lit up in her face. She was admiring the nails of the person he was on!

 

            Then there was movement. Leon started to try to stand as he noticed that hands, Tia’s gigantic hands, were appearing on either side of the feet he was on. Her thumbs appeared so quickly, he barely had time to register that they were sweeping across the nails, perhaps admiring the work done. Suddenly, a giant wall of flesh, the side of her thumb, bridged the gap between the third and fourth toes, ready to smear him out of existence.

           

            “NO!” Leon screamed, and reacting purely on instinct, ran and made a jump toward the quickly approaching wall, miraculously finding hand and foot holds in the crevices that made up her thumbprint. His ability to hold on to such a massive object moving at such a comparatively fast speed was found wanting, however, and Leon found himself being flung from his precarious perch upon the thumb back onto a familiar black surface. He had fallen in such a way that he lay next to the skin, and watched the thumb finish its sweep in front of him and fly off into space.

 

            “Guess…I got lucky.” wheezed Leon, still on his back. He closed his eyes for a second, but opened them when he heard a familiar sound. A voice.

 

            “How the hell did you get here?”

 

Leon snapped open his eyes, to see the weary but smiling form of Dean.

 

“Oh man! Shit, man! You’re alive!” Leon hopped up, not too excited for words. “I thought you were dead, man!”

 

“Well,” began Dean, extending a hand to help Leon up off the ground, “Not yet.”

 

            “Shit! I almost forgot to tell you! I think I know who we are on, man, and you are not going to like it. That bitch that almost squished me was that girl Tia, so this has to be…” Leon was cut off when their world accelerated once again, then suddenly stopped. The two had fallen to the ground again, and looked up to see the face of their ride: It was Samantha.

 

            Dean and Leon shook in terror as the teenage girl who hated them, now a size beyond imagining, finally looked down and seemed to notice them.

 

            “Uh…” began Leon. “Do we wave or try to run?”

 

            “Leon, right now, I’m terrified beyond the capacity for rational thou—“

 

            Dean was interrupted when another thumb, this one belonging to Samantha, came down, targeting them. They began to run, but the wall of flesh seemed to scoop them up, and they found that the acceleration stuck them to the pad of her thumb. They eventually came to a rest on their backs, as she peered down at them.

 

            Dean took a moment to try to take in all that was happening to him, but just couldn’t. For a moment, he went on a little mental vacation, so that he was anywhere but there. Leon, however, couldn’t achieve the same blissful state of mind.

 

            “SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.””

Leon screamed at the top of his lungs, much like he did when going downhill on a roller coaster.

 

            Both boys had a moment to wonder if perhaps they were even too small for her to make out as anything but dark specks. And if she did recognize them, would she help them?

 

            They watched as a look of curiosity, then annoyance, then apathy crossed her face; no, she hadn’t seen them, at least, for what they truly were. The two were impacted by another wall of flesh that approached from their side, and were flung out into space.

They flew in an arc, with neither one really able to see where they were going, as they speed at which they flew coupled with the nearly indiscernible and alien world of giants that surrounded them gave no familiar object to latch onto.

 

They did find, on their way down, that they were falling into a gigantic circle, the size of a massive and perfectly round lake. Only, the lake was pink.

   

           

  

           

    

 

 

 

Dean landed headfirst into the strange pink lake, his acceleration halted by its viscosity when he was half buried. He immediately attempted to pull his head in the direction he hoped and prayed was up, to save him from slow suffocation. As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice that the thick lake he was currently trying not to drown in was in fact yogurt, and strawberry flavored.

 

            As his head breached the surface of the yogurt he gasped as he took in air, simultaneously reaching up to wipe the gooey snack from his eyes. He took in his surroundings, noticing the high white walls that led up into the sky, the seemingly frozen sea of pink yogurt that stretched in all directions, as well as the gargantuan chunks of strawberry that lay like immense icebergs in this unnatural ocean. He couldn’t help but whimper as he noticed a strawberry seed that lay near him, easily the size of city buses, dwarfing him.

 

            “LEON! LEON, WHERE ARE YOU?” Dean shouted. Having found Leon again against all odds, it was traumatizing to consider the possibility that he may have lost him again, and this time for good. There was also the pressing concern that they were stuck in a yogurt container open on a table where three girls sat, one of them being his arch- enemy, Samantha. Ending up being eaten, unknowingly, by your greatest foe is embarrassing to say the least, and utterly terrifying and mind-numbingly disturbing to say the most. 

           

            Dean had only a moment to take in his surrounding before a immense white object broke the sky and landed in the pink sea, effectively splitting it in half and consuming his entire field of vision. Dean looked up, up as far as he could as saw the underside of what was likely a thumb, it nail painted a bright and frankly obnoxious pink. Dean found himself oddly feeling a degree of relief that the owner of the yogurt was not Samantha, because if her toes were an indication, she was not wearing pink on her nails. Considering his situation, Dean would take any sort of good news to heart; He knew he was likely screwed either way, and the satisfaction that Samantha wouldn’t be the one to end him was a check in the “plus” column.

           

            Relief quickly turned to terror as the giant white object, which he now understood to be one of those plastic disposable spoons, began to move almost lazily in a giant rotation. Although it was moving in the opposite direction at the moment, he knew as it made its way to him that he could be buried under tons of yogurt or even scooped up and eaten. Dean began to kick his feet, hoping he could swim to the edge of the container and dodge the spoon. His motion was completely arrested, however, but the viscosity of the liquid. He was stuck fast, completely helpless as the spoon made its way toward him.

             Too dumbfounded for words, Dean thought to himself as the spoon began its circuit: Well, this sucks. I wonder if this is Sara? I guess it would be hilarious, in a completely not funny way, if she unknowingly ate the boy she had just asked to the dance. Or is that irony? Or maybe it’s tragedy…fuck, who gives a shit at this point. Hope I die fast. Heart, have an attack any time now. 

            Dean shuddered as the spoon, skyscraper in length, made its way to him. Due to its size, he felt that it was inevitable that it would crash into him as it effortlessly turned the still yogurt into tidal waves of strawberry death. Through pure chance, the spoon turned and hit the wall of the container, using the wall as a guide as it spun around Dean’s current position. He was left, untouched, as it glided through the yogurt behind him.

 

            It was through this shifting in the pink sea that Dean could finally make out a dark shape sticking out, far in the distance. On the complete other side of the yogurt cup, distinct between a yogurt-scape dotted with strawberry parts, it appeared that Leon was alive and stuck just as much as he. Dean began to wave back, but the spoon, which was still on the move, suddenly tilted and disappeared partially underneath the surface of the yogurt. Nearly faster than he could register, the spoon surfaced, taking with it into the air a generous portion of yogurt as well as the dark shape that was Leon. And just like that, Dean realized, he was alone. 

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            Upon losing sight of Dean whilst be flung through the air, the idea that he was about to crash into a gigantic pink ocean did not do wonders for Leon’s mental stability. While the landing had been surprisingly soft, Leon had the good sense to land feet first, and the viscosity of the pink ocean had arrested his fall so that, although he was buried to his neck at first, he was not submerged completely. Just when he began to prepare himself to move up and out, struggling against the stagnant and thick pink lake, he saw it descend. Tasting the pink substance that was splattered across his face, he knew immediately what it was: A spoon. Help aloft by a giant, pink-nailed hand.

 

            As the realization dawned on him, that he was stuck in what was likely a yogurt cup about to be enjoyed by an oblivious teenage girl, his mind leaned toward the “flight” part of the flight or flight response. He struggled to move, to get away, but to no avail. The spoon submerged and began to slice through the yogurt, moving away from him. This didn’t calm him, however. One way or another, he knew that the only way out of this cup was on that spoon. As total hopelessness began to descend upon him, he was able to make out a dark shape on the other side of the lake, a figure now between him and the slowly moving white structure that was a spoon of incomprehensible size. It was Dean.

             As he began to wave his arms in an attempt to contact the only other living being aware of his existence, the only other being that shared his plight, he thought to himself:  I don’t want to die alone. In strawberry yogurt. This is just…this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.  

            Unable to move anything other than his arms, he continued to wave. For validation, for a connection to something. For proof that he was alive and this was really happening. Otherwise, this just had to be a horrible dream, right? Just a horrible, disgustingly realistic dream.

 

            Unfortunately for Leon, this wasn’t a dream. The spoon sped through the yogurt and submerged directly underneath him, and then he felt the tug. The landscape, complete with Leon, began to rise. Leon looked around in despair as the sides of the yogurt cup sped by, the force of the rapid elevation forcing him into the yogurt until he was submerged to his chest. Just as abruptly as the ride began, it stopped, the spoon hovering in mid-air. In the distance, he could finally make out the gargantuan face of the owner of the spoon. Although it took him a moment, as making out facial features on a person larger than he could really comprehend was no easy task, it dawned on Leon that his doom was named “Sara”: a cute blond girl who was one of Samantha’s mindless followers.

 

            She was talking, but her voice was so loud that he couldn’t make out what she was saying. Whatever it was, it was keeping her from bringing the spoon to her mouth. Working one arm free, and then another, he futilely began to wave his arms, screaming for her to take notice that her yogurt had a human passenger. Her immense blue eyes never once strayed from whomever she was talking to, but finally she stopped talking and slowly, torturously slow, the spoon began to drift toward her gently parting lips. He could only watch in horror as he neared her gaping maw, her lips parting to reveal the tips of pearl white teeth. Finally, his mind snapped, and he began to scream; a long, tortured scream of pure fear, unheard by this girl who innocently began to take a bite of her yogurt. Her hot breath washed over him as the spoon was deposited in her mouth, Leon’s world instantly going dark and wet. He continued to scream as her tongue scraped the yogurt, and Leon, off the spoon, rolling the yogurt around in her mouth as she savored the taste. Leon was close to drowning in the sweet treat when a wave of saliva washed him along the surface of the tongue, back, back into the black, constricting cave that was her throat. He was still screaming as she swallowed.

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            “Oh, god, this stuff is so good. Mom knows how to get the good stuff!” gushed Sara as she ate her first spoonful of her expensive strawberry yogurt. “I’m sorry, I’m being so rude. Would you guys like to try some?” Her expressive eyes bled sincerity as she first offered the cup to Tia, who shook her head no, and then Samantha.

 

            Samantha paused to consider for a moment. She had missed breakfast, and the way that Sara was talking up this yogurt, it was as if it was the best thing she had ever eaten. It wouldn’t hurt, she thought, to just have a little taste.

 

            “Well, I guess it won’t hurt to try it. Do you have another spoon?” asked Samantha.

 

            “Another…oh, yeah, sure, for sure.” Stuttered Sara as she searched through her purse for another small plastic spoon. Finding one, she handed over the yogurt container and spoon to Samantha. Immediately, she began to talk to Tia about the college they were both attending, but Samantha wasn’t listening. She took a moment to consider the yogurt, looking down into the cup, mindlessly stirring the yogurt. She felt a strange feeling come over her, as if she had been infected with the same excitement for the yogurt that Sara was embarrassingly exhibiting earlier. Biting her lip, she gave in to the feeling, taking a generous scoop of the yogurt. For a second she considered the yogurt, the generous chunks of strawberry, the numerous black seeds. For reasons she didn’t understand, she thought then of Dean, of their academic and social competition, and all the worry of not measuring up, of not achieving victory over her opponent, and she smiled. She knew then, in that moment and with certainty that she would come out on top. He just didn’t know it yet. She let this comforting thought roll over her as she slowly took a bite of the yogurt.

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            After Leon had been scooped up, Dean screamed his friends name, over and over. He knew that he was gone, eaten unknowingly by some innocent girl, likely Sara. What a horrible way to go, how terrified he must have been…For a moment, Dean was able to focus on something then his own terror, it having disappeared in the wake of the loss of such a good friend. He treaded yogurt, weeping, totally unaware that his fate had at that moment been traded away.

 

He was shocked out of his lament by the sudden movement of his world. His container was moving, and he rocked back in forth, generally kept in place by the thick yogurt. He came to a stop then, and looked up, only to see then the last image he wanted to see in his predicament: the completely ignorant and inherently sinister visage of his nemesis, Samantha. She took up the entire sky, her straight black hair framing her perfectly proportioned face, those icy blue eyes staring straight at him but not seeing him at all.

 

It was then that the spoon broke the sky, coming down straight for him. His fight or flight impulse kicked in then, dials stuck on blind panic as he ineffectually swam against a still current of strawberry. The spoon crashed into the other side of the yogurt, and began it slow rotation. What, it’s not stirred enough? Really? Come on! The spoon knifed through the yogurt behind him, moving him in his sweet prison closer to the center of the cup. The stirring continued, with Dean stuck in the center, unable to escape. Inevitably, it broke the surface, much in the same way it had with Leon, like some gigantic shark, and settled underneath him. Then it began to rise.

 

Dean struggled, he knew if it were the last thing he did, he would fight. Caught in the center of the captured yogurt on the spoon, he knew that he couldn’t fight to make it to the side, or even find a way to make it from the spoon to her lips, in a desperate gamble to make her notice. The spoon arrested in midair, and he looked up to see her gazing down on him, seemingly studying the spoon and its contents. He waved his arms desperately, he knew his only chance would be for her to see him.

 

“SAMANTHA! YOU ARE LOOKING RIGHT AT ME! RIGHT HERE! DON’T DO THIS, PLEASE! SAMANTHA! DON’T EAT ME!” Dean screamed for his life.

 

And her expression did change; but not into a look of recognition, or horror, or even confusion. She smiled. She looked at him, and smiled.

 Oh god, Dean thought, Oh god, I knew she was evil. I knew it. Who eats someone over High School bullshit? 

The spoon shuddered and slowly began to move toward her face. Her beautiful face grew so large that he couldn’t take it all in, and his eyes were focused on the gradually opening mouth. Her tongue extended slightly, eager to take in the morsel, Dean and all. He could make out every crevice, every wrinkle in her lips; he could fit in the smallest of them. Her mouth had opened up into a black, moist cavern as expansive as outer space. The spoon broke the plane of her lips, settling on the tongue. As her mouth closed on the spoon, her tongue eager to taste yogurt, Dean screamed one last time, one final hurrah, the final chapter in his competition with Samantha.

 

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUUU-“

 

Her mouth closed, her tongue and saliva washing away her greatest rival.

                       ----------------------------------------------

 

“Mmm. You were right, Sara, this was really good.” Purred Samantha as she handed back the yogurt cup, rubbing her belly absentmindedly.

   

Epilogue

  

            The Girl with the Garnet Ring looked in through the glass walls of study hall as the three giggling girls sat at the table and enjoyed their snack. Her green eyes, burning with an inhuman fire, shone with victory. It was her favorite thing, she admitted, watching men get dispatched in horrific ways by the women they have wronged. It was her…specialty, this sort of lopsided justice. As she shed the identity of Anna, gradually disappearing into the shadows of the dimly lit corner of the school hallway, she smiled. She had so much more to do…