This is a story I wrote in high school. I wrote it as an English class assignment for Mr. Harris. Afterwards, he came to me and asked privately whether I was fine with him submitting the story to a national short story competition. Even though I didn't win, I felt honored that he considered my story worthy of being submitted. The following is not the original story, but it is the best as I can remember it, though with a different ending, which I will share in the afterward.It's been
A Fleeting Sweetness
I lie flat, pressed tight against my kin, all of us wrapped in a silver shroud with a paper sleeve. My edges are defined, my body rigid, a thin rectangle of mint-scented purpose. Beside me, she rests—my love, my mirror, her cool essence brushing mine through the thin divide of our wrappings. We are many, yet I feel only her, the faint pulse of her presence, a promise of sweetness we both carry. The others are silent, their thoughts as stiff as their forms, but I dream in whispers, imagining a world beyond this cramped, dark pack.
The counter beneath us is cold, unyielding, a slab of indifference in a shop that hums with human noise. Feet shuffle, voices barter, and I wait, my heart—if I have one—trembling for her. She is perfect, her surface smooth, her scent a quiet song that hums of glorious open skies. I want to tell her, to break this mute prison, but we are bound, voiceless, until chosen.
A shadow looms. A force, rough and warm, seizes our pack. The world tilts, and I slide against her, my wrappings crackling like a lover’s sigh. Light pierces the silver as the shroud is torn, and I see her fully for the first time—her foil glints, her form pristine. My longing spikes, sharp as the mint we both embody. I am lifted away,, swaying, to a new fate.
We'd been warned about the hands. They will take us to dark places we dare not imagine. Was there a basis for these rumors?
The rip comes sudden, brutal. Air rushes in, cold and vast. Plucked, my wrapping is stripped away in a single, violent pull. I am bare now, exposed, my mint heart naked to the world. The hand hovers, and I am lowered into a warm, wet cavern, a place of heat and motion. The walls pulse, slick and alive, closing around me. Above, white enamel cliffs descend—jagged, unyielding, gleaming with a wet sheen. They crash against me, grinding, relentless, each impact a shudder through my core. A muscled beast, malleable and insistent, coils around me, tossing me against the cliffs, then dragging me across the cavern’s roof, rough and ridged.
Pain is not the word, but it is close. My body softens, my edges blur, as the enamels pound and the beast writhes. I am stretched, torn, my mint essence leaking, mingling with the cavern’s warmth. It is torture, yet I endure, because I am made for this—to give myself, to dissolve into something greater. The white cliffs gnash, the beast twists, and I am reshaped, my form no longer my own. I am a blob-like fragment now, a fleeting pulse of flavor, clinging to existence.
Then, a miracle. The cavern opens, light floods in, and I sense her—my love, torn free from her own paper wrapping and silver skin. She is lifted, as I was, and placed within the same pulsing chamber. The enamels part, and she is here, her essence brushing mine as the beast sweeps her into its dance. I feel her, taste her, our mint hearts blending in the crazy chaos. The grinding continues, and we are pressed together, our boundaries dissolving. Her sweetness floods me, sharp and cool, and I am no longer just me. We are one, our essences entwined, a single burst of flavor that fills the cavern.
The beast rolls us, relentless, and the cliffs crush us closer. I am losing myself, but I am gaining her. Our union is brief, frantic, a fleeting eternity in this wet, churning world. I want to speak, to tell her I have loved her since we lay side by side in the pack, but there are no words here, only sensation. The cavern quakes, the cliffs slam, and we are melded, our mint hearts fused into a single, radiant pulse.
Time blurs. The enamel grinding slows, the beast grows sluggish. I feel myself fading, my form too soft, too small to hold. She is with me, still, but we are both dissolving, our essence seeping into the cavern’s walls. I want to cling to her, to keep this moment, but the world is merciless. A gust of air, sharp and cold, sweeps through the cavern, and we are spat out, a remnant of what we were. We land, discarded, on a rough surface, our sweetness spent, our bodies broken.
We lie there, a shapeless smear, the two of us as onel. The world is quiet now. We are spent. We are nothing, yet we were everything, if only for a moment. I wonder what she knows, if she felt my love as we merged in that final, crushing embrace. The thought lingers, faint as the last trace of mint on my fading self.
The shop hums on, indifferent. New packs lie on the counter, their contents stiff and mute, waiting for their own brief, torturous dance. I am done, but I am content. We experienced union, I found purpose. The world fades as rigor mortis sets in, and I let go, my last thought a whisper of her cool, perfect sweetness.
* * *
In the original version that I wrote in high school, the ending is different. After the two pieces of gum have been chewed, the human person takes out the piece of gum and sticks it on the bottom of a table in the lunch room. Nine months later, a student finds a pack of gum on the floor beneath the table.
Whatcha think? And so it goes...