Young Writers in Action

Young writers in action: The attack

THE ATTACK
by Analia Rivera, 10, USA

It was 8 pm. Attack time! In the morning, they just made noise, but at night they come to terrorize the house or anybody who dared to come too close. As we drove into the driveway, the cicadas bounced off the muddy CRV. We were trapped; there was no escape. If we got out, they would swarm. None of us were brave enough for them. We spent a half-hour trying to figure it out. Then, my dad got impatient and fled, slamming the car door. Approaching the house’s side door, he fumbled with the key in the inky darkness but couldn’t place the key in the lock. My sister shined the light from her phone to help. BIG MISTAKE! The cicadas were attracted to light and instantly made my dad their target. He screamed in terror as they attacked him. Pulling the door open, he lunged in and then closed it, leaving us still trapped in the car. We debated for another half hour on what to do. Then, a light flickered on outside at the other side of the house. We waited, hoping the cicadas would be attracted to it. Then it flickered off and was replaced by a light right where we were.

“Turn off the light! Turn off the light!”

My dad couldn’t hear us, but eventually, he did turn off the light. The darkness comforted us as we waited for the cicadas to evacuate our escape route. I was starting to get restless, and so was my sister and my mum. We decided to be quick and move. My sister, Indi, and I were right next to the unlocked door, but my mum was on the other side. We let her get out first and waited until she got to the back of the car. Indi and I opened our doors, joining my mum. Indi made a run for the door and was followed by my mum. I trailed behind, getting shoved left and right by Indi and my mum. The unpleasant sound of cicadas buzzed in my ear, and I could feel them attacking me. Indi and my mom were already in the doorway, and the wooden door started to close in front of my chestnut eyes.

“Wait!”

Sprinting into the doorway, I heaved a sigh of relief. We had won the battle, but the war was still to come. Some cicadas got inside, and now it was our job to dispose of them. Once that was done, the four of us laughed at our survival from the bugs and settled down on the couch. Then we heard the buzzing sound, inside! We missed one! Searching for it, we located it and calmed down except for me. I was thinking, and then I formed my practical question.

“Are there any more?”

The sound of the cicadas filled the endless night as we pondered the question.


This is Analia’s first publication at Alphabet Soup.To send us YOUR story, poem, artwork or book review, check out our submission guidelines