Point of View
By David
It was coming for him, like a terrible nightmare that never seemed to end. Ever closer, ever more.
8 hours before.
“Andrew,” his grandma shouted up the stairs of her pleasant two story home, “if you don’t leave now, you’re going to miss that photography camp you’ve been raving on about.”
“Coming,” the teenage black-haired boy said, as he half ran half fell down the stairs. By the time he got down the stairs, she was waiting for him in the car. He hopped in and they were off, going to a camp for amateur photographers. When they arrived there was a big group of kids, many with cameras and they were all gathered in a big, white, open tent. He hopped out, said good bye to his grandma and went to join them.
As he got to the group, a tall blonde man, who by his uniform and badge, was obviously the camp leader, started speaking.
“Today we are going to go over some simple ground rules for this camp, first; you must choose and attend one of the many class’s that are going to be happening today. Second; nobody at any time is allowed to leave the camp without permission from an adult. Third; nobody is allowed to go in to that blue shed over there.” He pointed to the edge of the camp at an old, tumbled down shed with peeling blue paint. “Understand?” “Ok, go have fun.” So Andrew spent that day taking classes and generally having fun.
But now is was night and the classes started shutting down. All the campers started meandering toward the dorms that housed them for the night. As Andrew walked across the camp headed for the dorms, that darn little shed caught his attention. A mischievous thought popped into his teenage head. He furtively looked around and saw that most of them campers had already entered the dorms. With the moon lighting his way, he dashed through the clean-cut lawns to the edge of the camp. He had arrived at the shed. He stood still, regaining his breath. When he felt less lightheaded, he ventured to try the door. “Drat!” he quietly muttered to himself. It was locked. He sneakily crept around the side of the building. There was an old half broken window with a perfect hole for him to climb in.
So climb in he did. But that’s when Andrew realized that the floor inside the shed was deeper than it had looked before. He fell and let out an “oomph!” as he landed on the cold dirt.
He was in. He stood up, dusted himself off and looked around; inside the shed it was dark but the moonlight streaming in through the window showed that the walls were covered with cobwebs. In very center of the shed there was a little wooden trapdoor that had a simple rusted, iron pull ring. As he walked over to the door and had a twinge of guilt, maybe he shouldn’t do this; well too late now, he thought. He pulled on the ring and opened it.
There was now just a black hole in the floor. Andrew couldn’t see the bottom, so he stuck his head in the hole. Speedily withdrawing it, he stood up. There was something big and alive in there. He had felt its breath and heard it move. He was just able to slam the trapdoor, when the floor underneath him started shaking like a huge earthquake. Andrew booked it then, jumping out the window, he took off running. He heard the trap door burst open and walls of the shed start rattling. His heart pounding, Andrew ran like he had never before. Tearing across the lawn, he heard the shed explode behind him, something snort and start to run after him.
He had made it into the big forest surrounding the camp, not daring to go into the safe haven of the dorm. He could hear it now, gaining on him, crashing through the brush. Now he desperately wished he had obeyed the camp leader and just stayed away. He tripped over a root and went sprawling, he quickly crawled to a bush and hid. Now it seemed to be right next to him sniffing around the forest floor. It was coming for him, like a terrible nightmare that never seemed to end. Ever closer, ever more. Suddenly the bush parted and staring down at him, illuminated by the moonlight was a colossal purple gorilla. It beady red eyes burning into his head. It reached down, touched his chest gently and simply said “Tag, you’re it.”
8 hours before.
“Andrew,” his grandma shouted up the stairs of her pleasant two story home, “if you don’t leave now, you’re going to miss that photography camp you’ve been raving on about.”
“Coming,” the teenage black-haired boy said, as he half ran half fell down the stairs. By the time he got down the stairs, she was waiting for him in the car. He hopped in and they were off, going to a camp for amateur photographers. When they arrived there was a big group of kids, many with cameras and they were all gathered in a big, white, open tent. He hopped out, said good bye to his grandma and went to join them.
As he got to the group, a tall blonde man, who by his uniform and badge, was obviously the camp leader, started speaking.
“Today we are going to go over some simple ground rules for this camp, first; you must choose and attend one of the many class’s that are going to be happening today. Second; nobody at any time is allowed to leave the camp without permission from an adult. Third; nobody is allowed to go in to that blue shed over there.” He pointed to the edge of the camp at an old, tumbled down shed with peeling blue paint. “Understand?” “Ok, go have fun.” So Andrew spent that day taking classes and generally having fun.
But now is was night and the classes started shutting down. All the campers started meandering toward the dorms that housed them for the night. As Andrew walked across the camp headed for the dorms, that darn little shed caught his attention. A mischievous thought popped into his teenage head. He furtively looked around and saw that most of them campers had already entered the dorms. With the moon lighting his way, he dashed through the clean-cut lawns to the edge of the camp. He had arrived at the shed. He stood still, regaining his breath. When he felt less lightheaded, he ventured to try the door. “Drat!” he quietly muttered to himself. It was locked. He sneakily crept around the side of the building. There was an old half broken window with a perfect hole for him to climb in.
So climb in he did. But that’s when Andrew realized that the floor inside the shed was deeper than it had looked before. He fell and let out an “oomph!” as he landed on the cold dirt.
He was in. He stood up, dusted himself off and looked around; inside the shed it was dark but the moonlight streaming in through the window showed that the walls were covered with cobwebs. In very center of the shed there was a little wooden trapdoor that had a simple rusted, iron pull ring. As he walked over to the door and had a twinge of guilt, maybe he shouldn’t do this; well too late now, he thought. He pulled on the ring and opened it.
There was now just a black hole in the floor. Andrew couldn’t see the bottom, so he stuck his head in the hole. Speedily withdrawing it, he stood up. There was something big and alive in there. He had felt its breath and heard it move. He was just able to slam the trapdoor, when the floor underneath him started shaking like a huge earthquake. Andrew booked it then, jumping out the window, he took off running. He heard the trap door burst open and walls of the shed start rattling. His heart pounding, Andrew ran like he had never before. Tearing across the lawn, he heard the shed explode behind him, something snort and start to run after him.
He had made it into the big forest surrounding the camp, not daring to go into the safe haven of the dorm. He could hear it now, gaining on him, crashing through the brush. Now he desperately wished he had obeyed the camp leader and just stayed away. He tripped over a root and went sprawling, he quickly crawled to a bush and hid. Now it seemed to be right next to him sniffing around the forest floor. It was coming for him, like a terrible nightmare that never seemed to end. Ever closer, ever more. Suddenly the bush parted and staring down at him, illuminated by the moonlight was a colossal purple gorilla. It beady red eyes burning into his head. It reached down, touched his chest gently and simply said “Tag, you’re it.”