He woke up in the nest he had made for himself, almost immediately after arriving there... Or rather appearing there. A nest. Yes, literally, it was a nest ! A bed suspended in those trees of an improbable size... Of an unusual size. Certainly, it was the jungle, but the jungle as he could never have conceived it before. A forest that seemed tropical, given its humid and hot atmosphere. He opened his eyes and his first instinct, like every morning since he had arrived there, was to wipe the sweat that already covered his forehead. However he had bathed in the nearby river last night, not without paying attention to the kind of alligators who also liked to take midnight baths from time to time.

For sure everything here was bigger than on Earth. And everything also seemed more dangerous and different. In truth, he had never been to a jungle, but he had no trouble imagining it. He was convinced that the animals, or rather the creatures related to them, were all more ferocious and unpredictable. Or perhaps this impression was due to the feeling of fear that had not left him since the materialization of his body in these inhospitable places ?

What looked like a dragonfly but ten times larger came to land on his left arm, buzzing not far from his ear... A little longer and he might have thought it was coming to hug him. Even after all this time he still found himself losing his footing and unable to tell apart fantasy from reality.

The sounds, too, seemed amplified tenfold. Luckily, the creature didn't have orange stripes. It must therefore be harmless, at least according to his observations. Allan tried to keep a cool head and to confine himself to reasoning that was supposed to be logical, despite the situation, in order to survive. Survive at least until someone or something comes to deliver him from this not-quite-earthly dimension. After all, he wasn't a zoologist, nor a biologist. Just someone who had the misfortune, one summer evening, while hanging out in the attic of the family home with his friends, to play this board game, I named Jumanji.

Today, he would have to hunt again to prolong a little longer an existence whose meaning he sometimes didn't even grasp. Hunt to live, but live for what ? He had no one to talk to. Sometimes, Allan was tempted to let himself die. And God knows that if he decided to remain inactive, death would quickly find him, between the suffocating humidity, the animals and insects, which would make short work of his muscular body. And then, feeling a little guilty, he began to dream that someone would fall into the same trap as him and win this cursed game, and that his pawn would end up in the middle of the wooden board and sink into the abyss of the mysterious black stone that adorned the game's center... Perhaps that would at least give him a little company ? He waited, but didn't even know exactly what. “Such a strange game…” he repeated to himself as if to convince himself of his good faith, when every evening for 30 years he replayed in his head the film of that famous evening in August 1970. The teenager he was back then had to evolve very quickly into a man to avoid perishing in awful suffering.