Sienna's colossal hand reached for the glue gun, her fingers wrapping around it like it was a mere toothpick. You trembled, realizing the dire situation you were in. If she decided to use that glue gun on you, there was no telling what horrors awaited.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched her inspect the glue gun with a mix of amusement and anticipation. It seemed like she was enjoying this twisted game she was playing with you, relishing in your fear and helplessness.
With a wicked grin, Sienna turned her attention back to you, her eyes glinting with malice. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" she chuckled darkly, flicking on the glue gun.
You scrambled desperately, trying to find some way to escape, but your efforts were futile. You were glued to the porch, completely at Sienna's mercy.
Just then, the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, signaling the arrival of trick-or-treaters. Sienna's attention shifted, and she sauntered over to the edge of the porch to greet them, leaving you behind, glued and vulnerable.
The first trick-or-treater approached the door, a bubbly 9-year-old girl dressed as a magical fairy. Her rainbow-colored wings shimmered in the porch light as she skipped up to the door in her pink Crocs, each step light and bouncy. As she lifted her foot to ring the doorbell, her small shoe accidentally landed on you, the weight surprisingly heavy for its size. The Croc was dirty, with mud caked on the sole, and emitted a faint, musty odor. You felt like you were being squished under the weight of a small boulder as the fairy remained oblivious to your presence, her attention focused solely on the candy awaiting her inside.
Next came a 12-year-old girl, dressed as a pirate queen, with a fierce expression and a gleaming plastic sword. Her brown sandals thudded against the wooden porch as she swaggered up to the door, each step deliberate and confident. You cringed, bracing yourself for the inevitable. When her sandal came down on you, it was like being crushed under the weight of a heavy book. The sandal was worn and dirty, with dirt and sand embedded in the straps. A stale, earthy smell emanated from it, assaulting your senses as you struggled to breathe under the pressure.
Trick-or-treater after trick-or-treater came and went, each one oblivious to your plight as they unknowingly stepped on you while visiting Sienna's porch. An 15-year-old girl dressed as a superhero followed, her sleek black boots thudding confidently against the porch as she marched up to the door, each step echoing with authority. You braced yourself, knowing what was about to happen. As her boot landed squarely on you, its heavy sole pressed into your side with the force of a hammer blow. The boot was scuffed and dirty, with traces of mud and grass clinging to it. A faint, metallic smell lingered in the air as you struggled to bear the weight, feeling like you were being crushed under the weight of a giant's foot.
The procession of trick-or-treaters continued, each one adding to your torment. A 17-year-old girl dressed as a basketball player followed, her Nike sneakers squeaking against the porch with each step, the sound rhythmic and relentless. And finally, an 18-year-old girl dressed as a beachgoer, her flip-flops slapping lazily against the wooden boards as she strolled up to the door, each step casual and carefree.
And through it all, Sienna watched with amusement, her laughter echoing in the night as she reveled in your suffering. It was going to be a long and torturous night, and you could only hope that someone would come to your rescue before it was too late.
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