My Own Life

My icicle fingers quickly search for my knife. I think I found it, but it's hard to tell. I jump up, throwing my tarp off, and see a seemingly seven-foot-tall, grizzly man. He has a scraggly beard with dreads peaking out from under his hat. He wreaks of alcohol, cigarettes, and body odor. Eew. I glare at him, trying not to let him know I have a weapon. The stench seemed to scream at me, "get away!"