We Are All Animals Inside

• Tea Dyson, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

In a second every little thing had changed. I was sitting on the edge of a dock, looking down into swirling sea below, listening to the sound of the crashing waves. I suddenly felt a hard force on my back, and am thrashed into the violent sea. I scream, but am drowned out by the water. I try to swim, but can’t see. My head hits something hard, and I am knocked unconscious.
"Where....where am I..?" I say to myself, coughing up water.
I try to stand, but fall. Crawling to a nearby tree, I feel a stabbing pain in my shoulder. Leaning against the tree, I feel my shoulder. My hand comes away, smeared with bright blood.
"Crap" I yell. Behind me, there is a massive jungle. Monkeys scream and birds squawk. "This is gonna be hell" I say.
A few days after landing on the beach, I had already ventured into the forest and set up camp. I had caught a small ground-bird and was cooking it when a small jaguar cub appeared in front of me. It looked starved, so I threw it some meat. Cautious at first, the cub slowly walked towards me, then, quickly grabbed the piece of meat and ran back to the edge of the bushes. Since that moment, he and I have been friends. I named him Bobby.
I am sitting in my tree house, looking down at a small pig. "Mm, dinner" I think in my head. I silently grab my bow, aim at the pigs head and shoot. The pig’s short, high-pitched squeal breaks through the silence. The pig lands on the ground, arrow sticking out of its bloody head. I jump down from my house, landing next to the fat animal.
I cook the pig, and start eating when I hear a low growl from the bushes in front of me. I put my hand on one of my bow. A large jaguar steps out from the plants. I smile, and throw some meat to him.
"I see your hunting expedition was a failure" I say to the young animal, looking at some scratches on its body. The jaguar puffs, finishing the meat in a few mouth-fulls, curling up next to me.
I wake to the sound of a low, menacing growl. I open my eyes, seeing Bobby snarling at me. “huh?” I say tiredly. The feral animal pounces at me, and I grab a sharp rock, stabbing his chest. I yell out as his limp body falls on me, struggling to move his heavy body. I lean next to my old friend, patting his soft head. Holding his head, I cry into it, truly heartbroken.
I leave the tree house, and start digging a hole, where I wish to bury him. Dragging his now cold body, I place him in the hole, tears rolling down my cheeks. I mourn him for the next few days, unable to hunt.
We are all animals inside.