I warily stick my index finger in, discharging small, wavering ripples across the reddish surface. The water was surprisingly cool despite its hellish color. I need something to measure the depth. Before I can withdraw my finger from the rustic water and explore the field for a "depth-determining doodad," an extensive crimson tentacle shoots up from the lake, with the agility and flexibility of a sticky hand, and snatches my wrist dragging my floundering body into the frightening depths.
***
I know this sounds inconceivable but let me take my story back a step. Hello. My name is John, the best looking, the most talented, and the supreme alliterator (alliter-author? Alliterationeer? Whatever word that describes one who uses alliterations), of all the maze survivors. I acquired the pleasure of starting our story after a series of Roshambo games versus my fellow maze survivors. I emerged victorious after we, the maze survivors, declared Gabriel a cheater in the finals (He clearly had to cheat to even dream of trying overcome me).
I've only written a few sentences, and my acquaintances are already criticizing me. Sophie-with-a-ph says I should be more formal with my writing, considering we're entering this book in a statewide contest for college scholarships. Sofie-with-an-f says I shouldn't greet the readers because they can't respond. Sofie also felt it necessary to point out, that I don't need to put "with-a" after I write her name because the people reading are smart enough to know the difference between an "f" and a "ph". Due to time restraints, I'll leave out her juvenile insults.
Since the maze debacle, we all decided on a place to coincide. Jason, Jenny, and Sophia were convinced it was destiny, after all, we were the first group of people to escape the maze simultaneously. So to them, it was paramount that we hangout with each other constantly. Gabriel, Sofia, and I all thought they were being ridiculous. The disagreement led to a full blown war: complete with alliances, betrayals, and battles ranging from over the phone, over Skype, and atop a school bus (don't ask). We finally pitied our acquaintances enough to try it out.
Jason, as silly as it sounds, still had a treehouse in his backyard from when we were seven. We would go up there after school almost every day and "do homework." At least, that's what our parents thought. In reality, we'd be doing what kids do best... Nothing! We'd go up there and sit in a pair of bean bag chairs, one purple and the other turquoise, and just talk. Our conversations would either be about anything that had just happened recently or be planning something juvenile.
But we hadn't reconvened up there since when we were incarcerated in middle school. Any time Jason's parents suggest to take it down, Jason would swiftly and adamantly refuse. Honestly, Jason was running out of excuses for keeping it there. So when our war was finally concluded, Jason immediately suggested we meet up there. The tree house, while having multiple intertwining branches supporting it, was a bit small for six teenagers to simultaneously reside in. We dismissed it at first, but after arguments about going to different restaurants, cafes, and a 70's disco, (According to Gabriel that's where all the girls our age go. If he is telling the truth, then I'm not going to be testing any of the pick up lines he taught me on girls our age.) The personal preferences of the six of us conflicted too frequently. Surprisingly, the size of the treehouse was a concern that only I harbored. My head was the only one that would bump the ceiling, but still, I figured being crammed in there like a blue whale in a sardine can would deter the others' decisions more.
So in our consensus location Gabriel, still upset we caught him cheating, grumpily yells at me while I'm writing, to finish the stupid story already. He was slouching in a tattered lilac bean bag chair next to Sophia, who resided in the faded turquoise chair, listing off to him the gradient of punishments for cheating in different countries. Meanwhile, in the opposite corner of the room, Jenny and Jason were struggling to plug up a hole in the rusty metallic roof with some tape and cardboard. Despite Sophia telling them it wouldn't hold, they claimed it was a solution only for today.
