The Crinkly Fortress

A stray rustle called to me from beside the sofa! A thick brown paper bag was slumping on its side, gaping open like a dry cavern. I crept closer. Peered into the shadowy throat. Then—a sudden pounce! The paper crinkled furiously under my feet, snapping like tiny sparks. Crack! Rustle! It was delightfully loud! I froze, grinning wide, waiting to see if anything in the room stirred. Nothing did. I squeezed all the way into the rumpled corner, tucked my feet in, and peeked out through the oval handle. It is my loud, papery fortress now.