A Hope with Despair HTML version

I am on the ground covered in mucinous, black-
green slime, able to breathe but only while gurgling
through the sticky substance in my mouth. I dream
of rest, but the blob continues to ungulate before my
eyes, shaking more and more quickly, vibrating in
all directions simultaneously and I expect that it will
shake itself apart and cover me further with its
remains. But the blob relaxes. Why? I must
understand the processes that govern its behavior,
but why must I ponder even this? A new net
overcomes me, this one made of rope and steel,
tossed upon my body, weighing me toward the
ground. I look up and the blob appears sad, even
compassionate about my captivity. The blob had no
wish for this outcome after discharging me from its
insides. The goal was freedom.