Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

eath was pressed out of us. We gripped each other
but didn’t dare make a sound, and for an unbearably
tense moment we heard only the bleating of sheep
and the clop of staggering hooves. Then another
hoarse scream erupted, sudden and desperate and
just as suddenly silenced, broken off by lurid, ripping
bone snap. I knew without looking that a sheep had
just been torn apart.
Chaos broke out. Panicked animals ricocheted off
one another, throwing us against the wall so many
times I got dizzy. The hollow let out an ear-splitting
screech and began to lift sheep to its slavering jaws
one after another, taking a blood-spurting bite from
each and then tossing it aside like a gluttonous king
gorging at a medieval feast. It did this again and
again—killing its way toward us. I was paralyzed with
fear. That’s why I can’t quite explain what happened
next.
My every instinct screamed to stay hidden, to dig
myself even deeper into the muck, but then one clear
thought cut through all the static—I won’t let us die in
this shit-house—and I pushed Emma behind the
biggest sheep I could see and bolted for the door.
The door was closed and ten feet away, and a lot of
animals stood between it and me, but I plowed
through them like a linebacker. I hit the door with my
shoulder and it flung open.
I tumbled outside into the rain and screamed
“Come get me, you ugly bastard!” I knew I had its
attention because it let out a terrifying howl and sheep
came flushing out the door past me. I scrambled to my
feet and when I was sure it was coming after me and
not Emma, I took off toward the bog.
I could feel it behind me. I might’ve run faster but I
was still holding the shears—I couldn’t seem to make
myself let go—and then the ground went soft beneath
me and I knew I’d reached the bog.