The drumbeats of the worm’s tail gradually grew less and less until it stopped altogether.

Is it gone? Sparrow wondered.

Sparrow took a couple of deep, warm breaths, and then poked one of his eyes out just in time to see the tail of the worm wriggling in the opposite direction to him.

He let out a sigh and gently slid from his shell.

Right. Time to find my human body.

It took him a few days of lumbering through worm trails, and a rather large rabbit’s burrow to reach the surface, but when he did his eyes recoiled at the glaring sunlight that struck his eyes.

When Sparrow reached the surface he found a vastly different world so the grassy plain he'd seen going down. The place was littered with large cracked sections of concrete. Rusted lamp posts and decaying buildings filled the skyline which was tinged an orangey red, like the blood of the very gods was colouring it.

The sunlight burned his eye and his twin stalks writhed in pain.

With a slow, monotonous trudge Sparrow started out in one direction. He wasn't entirely sure what the direction was but it kind of just felt right.

For weeks he crawled. He summited rusted caravans, decaying shields and swords, and sheltered under the remnants of sand-coated bunkers.

Eventually, Sparrow reached an ocean glowing green with the putrid smell of rotting fish. There, he nibbled on a few leaves of clover that stuck out through gaps in the cobbled road. Even the clover had a sour taste about it.

He spotted a hulking rusted ship piled high with fruit and vegetables. For some reason that ship felt right.

Under the cover of darkness, he wormed his way onto the deck, then below it into a crate stuffed full of mangos. Once inside the box, he began eating the sweet, sticky flesh of a mango until he had a little hole in the side of the fruit.

****

A banging sound woke him, two men from the ship were peering into his crate.

'See there's nothing there,' said the first, 'just like every other barrel I've checked over the last 20 years.'

'But our instructions are to check every piece of food. We're not supposed to leave until we've done a search.' said his companion.

Voice one let out a moan, 'Look kid you're new, you're wanting to do a good job, you're wanting to kiss the captain's ass. I get that. I've been where you've been. But you know what's more important than doing a good job?'

The recruit made a sniffing sound like he was wiping his nose on his grubby coat, 'What?'

'Not missing a game of Blind Jac’s Bacon,' said the first voice, 'I'm on a winning streak, have been for the last three games and if my streak gets messed up because some snotty-nosed ass-kissing recruit wants to check for non-existent snails in a box of mangoes I'm gonna be really pissed.'

The recruit made another blowing nose sound and then started taking mangoes from the crate. The light around Sparrow grew brighter, and then he found himself being lifted into the air.

He curled deeper into his shell as an almost primal instinct took hold.

'You know what?' said the older man, 'I'm not sticking around for this, you finish up, sign off-'

The mango that Sparrow was embedded in spun as the younger sailor tossed it roughly back into the crate.

'Fine I won't check them,' the young sailor said, 'but it's not my fault if-'

'-don't worry,' the older men said, 'I don't even think there are any snails left after the chemical drops.'

The mangos fell back on top of Sparrow, the crate was sealed up and then darkness and silence returned - two things Sparrow had learned to love in recent times.

Weeks passed and the ship began its journey. The anchors were taken in and Sparrow felt the ship slowly rocking from side to side.

As they travelled the crew checked their load two more times, but Sparrow had found himself a little nook in between two wooden timbers of the crate where he was invisible to prying eyes.

One day the swaying stopped and Sparrow's crate was lifted off and into a cart. The long streets of the city gave a ring as the sailors stepped on them.

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They arrived at a gilded mansion that was so wild and extravagant it would put any ruler of earth to shame.

There, beautiful maids pulled each mango individually from the crate and dusted them with miniature brushes, checking to see that there was nothing hiding on them. Sparrow felt his slimy muscles grow tense as each of the mangoes disappeared.

Finally, one of the women pulled out the mango he'd left a hole in and showed it to the guards, 'This one,' she said, 'has been eaten by something.'

One of the sailors inspected the little bite marks Sparrow had left, 'probably a worm or something.' the sailor said.

'Maybe a worm, or maybe a snail?' she raised an eyebrow, 'the Emporer will hear of this.' she nodded to the crate, 'dispose of it.'

Every mango was placed back into the crate, which was then sealed up and carted to a large firepit with guards on every side. The crate was dumped onto it as Sparrow tried to worm himself out of the nook he'd got stuck in.

Burning flames rolled towards him and waves of heat baked his shell.

Oh God, Sparrow thought to himself, this is not going to be fun.

For a while the box of mangos sat atop the fire, simmering away, but not catching fire. They let out a boiling hissing sound as they popped. One of the guards of the palace took up a bucket full to the brim of sloppy red liquid and drained it over top. The mangos were instantly wrapped in flame, patches of the red liquid dripped down onto Sparrow, stinging him.

This is not good. He thought to himself. This is not good. I've got to get out of here.

And he made a little trail towards the edge of the fire. By some fluke he made it - coated in ash and red gunk.

He pulled himself into his shell and rolled down the side of the fire pit, hoping he'd be mistaken for an ember. Sparrow poked one eye out from his shell. The guards were loading a crate of avocados onto the fire. They weren’t even looking his way.

So far, so good.

About two meters from the fire Sparrow could see a small drainage channel.

The channel wasn’t very deep, and it had sooty gunk running through it. Mind you, I suppose I’m an immortal snail, so I really shouldn't be worried for my health. Sparrow thought. The trouble is, I need to get there fast, there’s a few feet between me and the ditch and if I get caught in between, I’m going to get tossed into either the fire, or a whole bunch of concrete spheres. And I don’t want that.

He glanced at his shell, ash-coated and almost circular.

Could I roll?

Behind him the fire flared up as a crate hit it, the bright flames illuminated the earth in front of him. With the bright light behind him, he threw himself forwards and slipped into his shell.

The shell rolled once. Twice, three times, it started to gain speed as it headed for the ditch.

And then Sparrow hit a rock. It flipped his shell upwards and threw him off course. He spun, then his shell flipped on its side.

Sparrow popped an eye out of his shell.

He was still a foot from the drainage channel, and the fire behind him was starting to calm down. A guard’s heavy footsteps reverberated through the earth as they moved towards him.

Sparrow gulped and pushed his belly out of his shell.

But disaster… his slimy foot couldn’t touch the ground. He tried to swing himself up, but he moved too slowly to gather any momentum.

The guard was closing in. Sparrow tried again to flip himself up. He strained until the tip of his foot touched a burning ember.

The pain latched itself to him, consuming everything. He tried to pull away, but the ember had seared itself to his foot.

The human’s heel was beside him. Something had to happen. Sparrow gritted his non-existent teeth and pushed more of his foot wards the burning ember.

The sizzling sensation would’ve driven most snails mad, but the burning ember also gave him leverage to throw himself, and the ember towards the drain.

They rolled bouncing and burning until they hit the dank water below.

The water sizzled and steamed as it stole the heat front he ember. Gradually the ember began to melt, and Sparrow’s tender foot was freed.

The water had flooded Sparrow’s shell, but he didn’t mind. It cooled the burning sensation, and so what if he couldn't breathe? He couldn’t die.

He flapped his tail all the way through the little drain and then scaled one of the walls, popped through a window, moved through the kitchen, and then finally made his way into the throne room.

There sitting on the throne was Sparrow’s body - but there was a dull expression in his eyes as a waiter brought an entire plate of cabbage leaves for Sparrow’s body to eat.

Sparrow’s body picked up the leaves and munched thoughtfully.

‘A mango?’ he was saying. ‘That’s a terrible sign. Shows you how lazy people can get over time.’

Opposite Sparrow’s body was the same maid that had found the mango, ‘when that ship returns back to the mainland, have it sunk with all the crew on board. Maybe we can make a lesson of those that fail in their duty.’

The maid bowed and left.

With care, Sparrow slunk his way along the walls and then up to the ceiling which had been painted white.

He cursed his luck as he started crawling across the ceiling. A pair of suitors walked into the room and started discussing defences with his body.

They only have to look up and I’ll be spotted.

He inched closer to his body, which had somehow become the emperor of some post-apocalyptic society and as he did he thought of the road. He longed for its simplicity, sitting beside a stream while the sun beamed down overhead.

He didn’t know how many centuries he’d been a snail, but he was ready to go back.

And then he hit a crack in the ceiling, a piece of the paint tore off and Sparrow found himself falling towards his body.