"Oh sweet Jeebus, my mother has these huge mutant striped crickets everywhere! Your prompt for today is to write something from the mutant cricket's point of view as it plots world domination through scaring the jeepers out of me."
"They're coming!" I whispered to Ron, who was cowering behind me, useless. "Retreat!"
"I can't! You're standing on my shoelaces," he said in a quavering voice. I sighed and shuffled my feet. Who wears lace-up shoes to an alien invasion?
We backed down the hall, careful to make no noise, but the advancing army kept pace with us. There had better be a locking, air-tight door around here somewhere, or we were going to be toast.
Ron's elbow hit a hatch with a clang that must have given away our position - the skittering of thousands of chitinous claws on the walls, floor, and ceiling of the passageway grew louder as all of them converged on us. Ron turned to open the hatch while I kept my weapon trained down the corridor. I didn't stand a chance of holding the invaders off for long, but I could at least try to give him time to escape. He fumbled with the wheel, turning it the wrong way until it jammed in the locked position.
"Move!" I screamed, elbowing him aside. He caromed into the corner, and I heard a snap as his arm hit the wall. Great. Now I was responsible for saving someone who was not only useless, but injured, as well. I wanted so very, very much to leave him where he stood sniveling against the wall. But his DNA contained the only weapon we had found effective against the invaders, so I wrenched the wheel the proper direction and slammed open the hatch, propelling Ron through by his uninjured arm. I slammed the hatch shut and spun the wheel on the inside of the door, flinching as a hailstorm of small clicks heralded the arrival of the swarm. I shook my head and straightened my spine. I was on this side of the hatch, and the invaders were on the other, unable to operate the lock. We would be safe.
I looked up to see if Ron had noticed my momentary lapse into fear. It wouldn't do to have a civilian aware of my weakness. I would distract him, perhaps by berating him for his slowness at the door and his carelessness in getting injured. But his eyes widened and fixed on a spot over my head, and I realized I had a much bigger problem on my hands than one useless test subject.
I let my eyes roll up slowly, raising my chin and tilting my head to look at the wall above me. The horrible, multi-faceted eyes of the enemy considered me coldly for a moment before the creature attacked.