by Christopher Kelly

Created on: September 23, 2008

I lived a simple life, not so different than most Americans today. I lived in a very plastic environment and never really got out much. If you were asked to describe me it would be 'pudgy and embarrassingly white'. Not a life to be proud of, but not a life I was willing to give up. Possibly to make myself more comfortable with the world, I surrounded myself with others similar to myself.It was a very artificial existence, and I knew I needed a change. After I and my colleagues were kidnapped, I realized I should have cherished my life while I had it.

The voyage into the woods seemed like a drugged nightmare. The unified motions and speech combined with identical navy-green clothing was enough to convince me that my young captors were part of a satanic cult. There lifeless eyes constantly moved, seeing everything as if rabid animals. Once we arrived into the dark forest, myself and others were thrown about in such a care-free manner I wondered if there was any humanity left in these beings.

The kids chanted eerie tunes as me and my comrades were restrained near the bonfire. Every once in awhile I would see one of the children look at me hungrily, and I knew I had no escape. After about ten minutes or so, they agreed it was time for their meal. A few of the terrible monsters ran off to sharpen some sticks while the rest stayed around, throwing more fuel onto their fire. I began to feel the heat rising. The evil kids began to laugh and joke, as if completely comfortable with the cruelty they were about to inflict. Finally the children returned, waving their newly made weapons in the air and rushing for us. The children that remained behind to feed the fire grabbed at the sharpened sticks, licking their lips in a crazed and explosive manner. Once they were all armed, they approached us in a line surpisingly straight for such hungry savages. My first comrade was stabbed through his middle and dragged over the flames. I heard his screams and realized my own were escaping me. I was next. The savage children pierced me through my soft flesh. The sharpened stick slid right through my belly and poked out my back. I was then hung over the fire, I heard the child who had skewered me speak, "I like mine burnt." As if by magic, a strong flame engulfed me.

Somehow I was still alive, I felt my body begin to burn and bubble. As I finally began to feel the numbness of death blackening my vision, I was pulled from the angry flames. My captor gazed at me with a sick anticipation before biting my body in half. The life of a marshmellow is not one to be envied.

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