Attacked at the Campfire

         The stars were twinkling and the campfire was crackling on the night of my death.

         I was sitting by the campfire, surrounded by my many friends, when I was seized by a hand from behind. I turned around to see who had grabbed me, but it was the last action I made. My attacker stabbed a sharp stick through my body and everything faded to black.

         It seemed like hours later when I woke, but I think it was just seconds. Head throbbing and eyes shut, I had no idea where I was being lifted to. That’s when I felt the searing heat on my back, all around my body. Barely managing to open my eyes, I discovered I was suspended just above thousands of flames, each flame desparately trying to set me on fire. I knew that if they touched me, I would burn up like a pile of straw.

         Whatever cruel person had stabbed me, they were now trying to burn me alive.

         Barely hanging onto life after one hundred and sixty torturous seconds, my body was lifted back from the flames. If they had changed their mind about killing me, it was too late.

         The last thing I felt, as I was breathing my last breath, was being laid on a hard surface and being smashed by something hard and… chocolatey?

         My last hope is that this horrific operation will not happen to any of my fellow marshmallows.