Okay, this is just a story I had to write for school, but I ended up really liking how it turned out, and I showed it to maddy and she said I should post it. so here it is! just read, and give me a review if you have time.

Attack of the Chipmunks

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As our van inched up the side of the giant rock face, everyone inside began to regret our choice to visit the towering statewide landmark. Now, halfway to the top, 200 feet in the air, on the outside of a rising spiral road, we closed our eyes and felt a need to pray. My sister, with her intense fear of heights, huddled in the back seat and whimpered. My mom was hunched over the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white. I closed my eyes and created a mindless chant that I repeated inside my mind: pleasepleasepleasepleasegetusoutofherealive. In a short time, it had metamorphosed into a cool little song that I sung out loud: "Please, yeahyeah, please, yeahyeah, get us out, uh-huh! of here alive." I'd even created a drum solo that played after alive. My brother looked out the window and helpfully remarked, "If we fell off the side, we'd make a really cool pattern when we landed."

My mom moaned. Ahead of us on the winding road, a car had appeared. It was a red SUV, and took up almost as much space as our van. We could tell it was going to be close. Since we were going up the mountain and were therefore on the right side, we were forced to move closer to the edge, in accordance with national driving laws. The SUV stayed only slightly off center to the left, hardly moving further inside. Instead, it went zipping past us at 35 miles an hour, the wind from its passage blowing fresh dust in the car. My mom muttered obscenities and gripped the steering wheel even tighter.

After around 10 more minutes of intense, height-induced panic, we rounded a curve and were suddenly at the top. In front of the car, a giant bowl was scooped out of the summit, and on the inside was abundant greenery. I stared, amazed that something could grow so high and not grow withered and paranoid by thinking about the various natural disasters that could cause the entire landmark to collapse.

We stepped out of the car and staggered to the lookout point, which was surrounded by heavy, metal, stable guardrails. I stood and waited for my head to stop spinning.

"Hey," my brother said. "Look."

He stood by the railing, pointing down into the hollow. I walked closer, stumbling over an empty pop can. My sister followed, wiping her teary eyes and forgetting about the ordeal she had just passed. Looking toward where Tim was pointing, I saw three or four chipmunks, perched lightly on rocks.

"Cool," I said. They reminded me of my favorite TV show when I was little.

One of the chipmunks scampered closer to my family. Behind it, four or five other chipmunks stuck their heads out of holes and looked at us. The chipmunk hopped over the last two rocks and scurried under the guardrail, gazing into our faces with cute little Disney eyes.

"How sweet!" my sister cooed.

"It probably has rabies," said my mother darkly. She was still a little shaken up.

"Can we feed it?" I asked.

I took my mom's noncommittal grunt to mean yes, and I raced to the car to get a bag of peanuts that I conveniently remembered we possessed. Hurrying back to what had already become "my chipmunk," I discovered that it had some friends. Ten or fifteen chipmunks were clustered around my family, and my sister was in heaven.

"I'll name you Sparkle, and you will be Chippy, and you, yes, you, right there, you'll be Peanut." A chipmunk scampered up and sat on her foot. "You," she said, eyes glistening with emotion at the rodent's show of affection, "I'll name you Doc Martens."

I threw some peanuts at Sparkle and Co., and there was a one or two second pause, during which time they sat frozen, processing the information of such an offering while looking like furry statues. Next, there was a low-scale stampede as they realized that I was the one with the food.

"No!" yelled my sister. "They're my friends, and you stole them!" She ran straight at me through the chipmunk haze, her foot dangerously close to Daisy's tail. Once she made it through the rodent atmosphere, she collided with me and tried to grab the peanuts out of my hand. My brother and mom stood off to one side, looking at the view and completely unaware of our small power struggle.

During our short fight, peanuts spilled from the open mouth of the bag and fell to the dirt path. In seconds, the chipmunks had attacked their prey, and after finishing that minor snack, moved on towards the motherlode. Towards us they advanced, little beady eyes glinting in the sun, cheeks stuffed full. My sister and I backed up uneasily, not liking the looks they were giving us. But still they advanced in our direction.

We backed up some more, but the movement jostled a single peanut from the bag, and it fell. Horrified, we watched as over thirty chipmunks sprinted towards the doomed nut.

What ensued could only be called a frenzy. The chipmunk that reached it first grabbed it and was about to swallow. Suddenly the rest of them caught up. Down it went, engulfed in a giant swarm of little rodent bodies. I grabbed my sister's hand and dragged her away, looking for my mom. Upon reaching her, I latched myself to her hand and didn't let go.

The rest of the time we were up there was spent walking around and looking at the plants, and visiting some sort of museum that was built a long time ago and still hoped to be found useful for something. For the last half-hour, we meandered along the outside rim of the shallow bowl, looking at signs that used words like "cinder cone" and "trans-continental drift." I stayed within a ten-yard radius of my mother, continually turning and making sure there were no chipmunks following me. Based on my twitching, my mother arrived at the conclusion that I had developed a nervous tic.

As we climbed back in the van for the return trip home, a solitary chipmunk darted over and stood on its hind feet in front of the door.

"Oh, look!" Abby squealed. "It's Sparkle!" A pause followed this statement, and then she added, "I think."

"What if it jumps in the car?" I asked apprehensively.

"Don't be silly. Chipmunks can't jump that high," my mom answered.

The chipmunk jumped into the car.

Mass hysteria ensued. I screamed, "It's in the car!" and my sister shrieked. My mom turned around, expecting to reprimand us for trying to scare her, but instead was confronted by the three children hurtling themselves out the trunk. She screeched and practically fell over as she tore out the door.

Twenty minutes later, we re-entered the car and began the long drive down the mountain, this time on the inside of the spiral, laughing at the cars going up. The last rays of the sun faded from the sky behind us, highlighting the frenzied cluster of cannibalistic chipmunks, gorging themselves on a small pile of peanuts.

Review, please! I'll love you forever. And if you like tamora pierce, check out my other stories!