FLYN STARMAN and the Realm of the Seventh Sense

Another flash of lightning, now further away, lit up the rock entrance where they were sitting. Flyn tensed up; he thought he caught a glimpse of movement inside the black cave. He strained his eyes as he waited for the next lightning flash. No … nothing. He decided it must have been his imagination. “If I had my phone, I could call home and someone would come and rescue us,” Neerim said miserably. No one answered; they all had the same thought. “We should have taken our phones,” Joel muttered angrily. “They’re probably out searching for us now,” said Maisy, not sounding convinced. The wind howled through the forest and lashed the rain into their faces. “Let’s move further inside, out of the rain,” Mr. Portly said, glancing back uncertainly. It looked awfully dark in there, even somewhat treacherous, but it was the only place they would find shelter from this storm. They hesitated; no one really wanted to go in further. But they were bitterly cold, so very reluctantly and with trepidation, they slid backwards along the slippery ground into the blackness. The cave deadened the sound of the storm—made it sound far away. They sat in a cold, wet huddle, eyes wide, ears pricked, listening to each other’s breathing. A heavy silence filled with unease and foreboding hung over them. “This feels creepy,” said Flyn in a low voice. “D’you think there could be something lurking inside this cave?” “Don’t even say something like that!” hissed Ellouese, completely unnerved by the idea. Maisy opened and closed her hands in the mud … she found it comforting. “This feels squishy,” she said, feeling the mud ooze between her finders. She moved her hands around and then, with a start, pulled them back sharply. “Uh … yuck … there’s something slimy!” “Uh … what’s that horrible smell?” Joel scrunched up his nose in disgust. “It’s gross.” Miss Kleverton pressed her hands over her nose and mouth, and Ellouese pinched her nose closed, trying to shut out the foul stench coming from inside the cave. “I think I can hear breathing,” whispered Flyn, on edge. “That’s us …” Maisy stopped short as a faint snort sounded deep inside the cave. Mr. Portly said softly to Flyn, “Do you still have your torch?” “Yes,” Flyn replied, surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. He dug deep into his pocket and found the torch. He pointed it into the cave, hesitated, and then switched it on and swung the small circle of light around into the dark. Instantly, piercing squeals and horrendous grunts rang through the cave, bouncing off walls, echoing into deafening intensity. Flyn dropped the torch in fright and clapped his hands over his ears. Small, horrid little bodies with blood-red eyes crawled up the walls and came creeping from behind rocks. Grotesque little creatures ran around frantically, clambering over stones, swinging from vines, attacking each other, and giving off a most vile smell. They snorted and grunted while viciously fighting each other. Benjamin Portly grabbed hold of the nearest person and extended his arms, wanting to protect everyone, but this was all beyond him. In sheer terror, they hunched over, shielding their faces and ears. Their nostrils stung with the disgusting odour, and Maisy and Neerim gagged on the stench. More and more of the vicious little creatures crawled out from under rocks, crevices in the walls, and holes in the ground. They had ugly, grey, lumpy bodies, crooked arms and legs, and big heads that they used to bash each other. Tufts of hair stuck out of their ears, and green snot oozed from their bulbous noses. They fought savagely, tearing pieces of flesh from each other with sharp yellow teeth. They were wild and bloodthirsty. Then, above all the horrendous noise, an ear-splitting, shrill voice cut through the air. “Put out the light! … Put out the light!” the voice shrieked. With trembling hands, Flyn groped for the torch on the ground, but his fingers were wet and numb, and he couldn’t get hold of it.