Camping With An Enemy

• Arpon Sarker, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

Wicker Forest — a place full of green, rustling trees and birds tweeting everywhere. Tim was an eleven year old boy with black, rushing hair that was covering an eye. He had a plain, orange shirt and blue jeans from his thigh to his knee. His thin, smooth and delicate arm was like a stick and had a pen its grasp and in the other hand was a book. The book had golden letters engraved on it saying “JOURNAL”. He glanced at his watch and immediately calculated noon. He fended the can of beans by whacking the black, humungous ants with the tip of a pen. “Go away,” he thought angrily, while continually whacking the ants. His stomach rumbled like a giant grey elephant tooting with its trunk. The can of beans couldn’t satisfy his hunger. He shifted to his tent, which was wandering in the golden, flaming sunlight.
Once again, he glanced at his watch and easily calculated five pm. His lip’s dried as though there was a drought on his lips. “I might sleep early,” he persuaded to himself. Tim lay in his leather, green sleeping bag, which had a silver zip and closed his eyes. “Help! Aaaaahh!” He yelled, breathing heavily. Tim opened his eyes and breathed slowly with sweat dripping on his face. “Why am I always having nightmares about spiders?” He whispered under his breath. He felt something on his leg and then heard a “tink!” coming from the empty can of beans. He crept slowly up to it and... “aaaahh!” He yelled, breathing more heavily than ever. He pinched himself but nothing happened. A brown-eyed, black and hairy spider crawled out from the can with legs as big as a whale. He ran anxiously out of the tent and stepped on a stick “crack)” The stick broke. He tripped and landed in a heap of vines.
The spider found him and... crawled on his arm. The spider went on a thick, green vine and bit it with its fangs. Tim felt as though he could use his whole body and understood that the spider was friendly overtime and called it hermit because his fangs was petty like a hermit crab’s pincer. After all that, he knew he made a friend.