Succulents: A Senior Surreal Photo by Sierra Pollock (2012)

I wandered South of the speckled river to the swamp where water droplets hung in the air like wet tufts of candy floss. The swamp was filled with Universe-clouds this night, and the three technicolor moons waved to me with their eleven spindly appendages. Spinning around each other, tiny orbits and figure-eights every night. This night they began to speed up, a centrifuge in the sky. Universe-mist curled around my feet, hugging my ankles. A pale girl stepped out of the fog. She let out a deep groan, which seemed to come from behind me, into a separate set of ears. A vine slithered out of her mouth, a lost eel from her stomach. My eyes screamed back. Her hand shot up to her face in embarrassment while her fingers turned green and lumpy, transforming into miniature cacti while her feet turned into roots. She crouched and hid. I approached the once pale, now melty-green girl, attempting to help her. She looked up at me, her body hardening. Her eyes sank away, and small roses began to bloom in their place. Teeth nipped and tugged at the hairs on my back, warning me to leave. I ran out of the swamp as fast as the hanging water would let me. I found myself back at my home past the river.