The Death Race

Bonfire

We trudged through the jungle, hands tied behind our backs with tough vines. Branches cut at our race uniform as we passed. Escape? No, too risky. Our only hope is to play along. Silently we step over logs, duck under fallen trees until we reach a clearing. The Warriors, each loaded with a spear or bow and quiver, all have black hair, pale skin and glowing yellow eyes. Extraterrestrial much. These beings are like nothing I have ever seen. The glowing eyes give nothing away. They lead us through the forest one by one. The long grass whipping our knees shortens to ankle height. Out of nowhere appears a clearing. Huts line the outside of the circular clearing. We stop at the center of the clearing next to a dry bonfire. The vines grip was loosened then tightened just as fast. We were fixed to the bonfire. A being came out of the biggest hut. I assume he is the tribe's leader. He spread his arms out wide, beckoning everyone else to gather round us. Everyone else gathers round us watching the chief expectantly. His voice booms across the clearing in a heavy accent. 'Let the celebrations begin!'

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Thank you for helping write this chapter of the book! JAMR25