It was a moonless night when the man trapped me in his cabin.
Icy sweat. Trembling hands. I cowered in the closet.
He was coming.
Not for me, that I knew. He was coming for something else.
Something more important.
I cradled the bag.
It was so beautiful, a red sheen that gleamed in the thin strip of light that shown from under the door. The embossed letters shimmered like silk. I stroked the fine plastic.
I wouldn't let go. I would never let go.
The man's footsteps rang out like a gunfire staccato. "No," I whispered, cradling the Doritos to steady my quivering breath. He would never take them from me.
I would protect my Doritos. "So help me," I assured it, "I will."
The closet door whipped open.
Coats tumbled down. They smothered in me in a blanket of gray and impenetrable dark. I couldn't see.
"Give me the Doritos!" he screamed. "Give them now!"
The hatchet slashed down in quick succession.
I rolled. Kicked. Gasped. A stroke glanced my ear.
I lunged forward, the Doritos tucked under my arm.
This was it. I had to win. For Doritos.
The man stumbled back, but he recovered quick.
Knife in his hand, I had no time to think, only to let my body guide me into action.
I swung my leg out and spun.
The knife slashed by my face and plunged into a mounted unicorn head. The man recoiled and hit the ground with a 'thump!'
I closed my eyes. I had won. I had won for Doritos.