I need to itch my nose.
And sure, there are a lot of things for me to concentrate on right now, but...it's like, really itchy guys.
Breathing in slowly doesn't really help. I can smell the campfire. I also get a whiff of urine and blood, and a couple other scents my limited life experience don't help me to identify.
It’s quiet. There's the soft crackle of the dying fire, the rustling of the trees, and really unpleasant clicking, chattering sort of noise that is getting closer to me.
Ahead of me, I can see Ally, and a dark blur in the corner of my eye that I'm pretty sure is John. Ally looks like I imagine we all do.
Eyes bulging, nostrils flared, lips clamped shut, staring straight ahead. Not her best look.
She's also completely still, other than the jerky rise and fall of her chest as she struggles to control her breathing.
I can hear chattering getting louder, and small gust of air tickles my cheek as it stops by me.
I grit my teeth and force myself to hold still as its slimy tongue slides up my neck to probe its way into my ear, then around to caress my eyes, leaving strings of mucus in its wake.
Skinny legs, with sharp bristles, warp around my ankle and then slide into my shoe to poke around in between my toes.
I hold my breath as something sticky inches its way up my back to wiggle between my shoulder blades.
Ally breathes in a bit louder than normal, and it freezes, a slimy tendril hovering around my neck. Silence.
After what feels like an eternity, it starts moving again, this time in John's direction.
My dad always told me that in unfamiliar circumstances, figure out what you know first, then go from there. So...I know it doesn't like sudden movement.
Jill screamed and jumped back when it first appeared out of the trees, tripping over her lawn chair. I think it's her head that's resting against my foot, but I can't really check, can I?
I'm betting it doesn't like loud noises much, either. Simon started crying about an hour ago, and his snotty whimpers were quickly replaced by some much...crunchier noises when it got to him.
I'm guessing he's the reason my left arm is all sticky.
I'm not much of a philosopher, but I'm asking a lot of questions right now, you know? Like, is it reacting out of fear? Curiosity? Is it going to leave when it's finished...
exploring? How long can a person keep standing until their legs collapse? If I pocket dial John, would it give me enough time to try to get out of here while it's...
otherwise occupied? I have a lot of questions and few answers, but one thing is certain. If I don't itch my nose soon, I'm going to sneeze.