He wanted to breathe. He lay still for a few seconds trying to get
his bearing. He knew he was in a tight space, because he felt a warm
wetness from his head to his toes and all around his body.
The urge to breathe became stronger, he had to get a breath and he
pushed with all his might, trying to clear himself of the tight, wet space
he found himself in. He felt himself move a little, but he still could not
breathe.
His chest felt as if it would explode. He had to breathe! He must
get air into his lungs! He felt a stronger urge to push. He must get out
of this cocoon! He must! Forcing himself, he trembled. Just as he was
about to give up, he finally cleared himself of the tight, wet place and
tried to drag a breath of air into his lungs.
He still could not breath. His lungs could not take in air, nor could
they let air out. There was no air. When he was about to give up hope,
he felt that something was different. He was no longer warm, he felt
cool all over. He also felt something in his mouth. Then, something
stung him on the heiney. “Swat!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.
Winston Dressler had just been born.
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