The Straw is Itchy

Using as little words as possible, we were to put the reader into a specific moment from our childhoods. This one still bothers my sister. 

Under my hands, the straw itches. It itches under my pants too, making crawling difficult. A strand moves up my too small jeans. I want to itch it but then I'll lose my cousins and the people behind me'll catch up and the halloween pop ups will eat me. Round the corner, more lights. Glow sticks. Illuminating a Dracula surrounded by pumpkins. I crash into the straw wall, sending more down to make me itchy. Then he speaks. He speaks in his automated Dracula voice. He laughs at me. I don't laugh back. I can't breathe will all this straw. The tunnel is so small and dark. Minus the glow sticks. A green one bobs in front or me. SARAH! I start crawling again and the straw keeps on itching. I'm so cramped. Why isn't this ending?! My windbreaker scrapes against the straw wall as I swerve around. What's that noise? Dracula? There's no one around. I take a deep straw filled breath and turn the next corner in pursuit of a fluorescent green blob.