Hornets

They came during the day.

All of the stories said that they would have come at night. They said that the creatures were ruled by darkness. The sun was supposed to destroy them.

All the stories were wrong.

It was the light that they needed. They would lie out in the sun, soaking in the warmth like lizards lying on rocks.

We watched them, and as they ignored us, we ignored them. We began to ignore the bodies that would flatten out in the park all day. Many people thought of them like trees. Just there, occasionally inconvenient and not important.

I believe that the beginning of the end was when some dumb kid decided to start poking at them with a stick so that he could post pictures of himself to the net. It worked, but it was like poking a hornets nest.

They woke.

We died.

The end.

Biscuits

Martin hit the ground with a thump, his body landing in a limp pile beside of an old microwave with a broken lamp lying on top of it.

Frankie screamed and ran. Whatever it was, the dough boy looking creature shambled off after Frankie, leaving Martin to stare at the junk. In front of him was a pile of old toys, plastic and wooden figures of animals and soldiers.

Martin heard Frankie scream. It started out as a yell, and then grew in pitch until the man was shrieking. When it stopped, Martin bit his lip to keep from calling out.

He waited, listening before shifting to lift up. He had one hand on rocks and the other no the little toys when something scraped behind him.

Martin looked over his shoulder, and opened his mouth to scream as it came forward.

Guardian

Margret smiled at me, and I thought she looked so beautiful. Her eyes sparkled and he skin seemed to glow. The woman was way out of my league. She had long, pale blonde hair and a lithe, athletic body that seemed far younger than mine.

We walked along, her clinging to my arm as a low fall breeze whipped her skirt around her legs. I was in heaven.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“For going out with me.”

She laughed and it sounded like a choir singing. “I should be thanking you.”

“I disagree. You could do so much better than me.”

She stopped us and reached up to stroke my cheek with long, delicate fingers. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

I nodded. “I don’t know what you see in me.”

“You make me feel safe,” she said. “Never underestimate what that does for a woman.”

***

Two men stood at the end of the street blocking our way. Margret squeezed my arm, sinking her nails through the sleeve of my shirt.

“Ain’t she a pretty thing,” one said.

“And ain’t he an ugly one.”

I heard the step behind us and turned in time to see the bat coming at my head.

***

When I opened my eyes, I was sitting with my back against a fence. My clothing was shredded and I was covered with blood. Margret was crouched down beside of me, stroking my hair.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She jerked at the sound of my voice and smiled a huge smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

She leaned forward and kissed me. “You protected me from them.”

I looked around, seeing the pieces of the men scattered up and down the street. Steam still rose from the largest chunks. Frost covered the ground and I could see the sky lightening down the street.

“Have we been here all night?”

She nodded. “You were out of it, so we waited here. If you’re ready, we can go home and I can give you a bath.”

She helped me up and I wobbled and limped my way back to where we parked. A bath with Margret sounded so good that I stopped thinking about anything else.

Touch

I extended my fingers, reaching across the short distance between us as slowly as I could. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t think of a single way to tell this story without admitting that it was because of fear.

I don’t know how long it took. It felt like hours, but we were only a little over a foot apart, so it was probably no more than a few seconds before we made contact.

For just a second, the touch was no more than a physical connection. It felt like touching a wall. Just tactile sensation.

Then the world exploded behind my eyes. There was a flash of light and a roaring sound. I was confused and wondered if I had grabbed a frayed extension cord before I hit the ground. That was the last thing I remember.

I don’t know if it was an angel or a demon. I don’t know if it was real or my imagination, but I do know that it has meaning. Something is about to change. It might not be tomorrow, but it will be sooner rather than later. Whatever that was, it was my beginning.

Now, will you please take these cuffs off and let me go? I don’t know how much time we have left, but I want to spend it with my family rather than in a hospital.

Adding Pages

The only sound in the room was my breathing and the scratching of the pen across the paper. A thin bar of light came through a crack in the drapes and I felt lucky that it was enough for me to see what I was doing. I prayed as I wrote, asking any god that would listen to give me enough time to finish the warning.

Adding the page to the book wasn’t a problem. The thing was made to grow. All I had to do was slip the page into place and the binding had drawn the edge in. I didn’t know if it would try to bite my hand or not, so I was careful not to get to close to the edge while I was writing.

“This is not a joke.” The first line, written in thick, capital letters. “The stories are true. This is everything you think it is. If you read it, you will die and it will hurt the entire time.”

I had to try, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Other pages of the book had been added with similar warnings. I had read them without believing them. What in my words could possibly change the mind of anyone who had went through as much to find this as I had.

I grinned, thinking of those same words on page 10, except that they had been written in German.

A long, loud creak of dry wood flexing under great weight screamed its way into the room. The second and third ones confirmed that the sound was made by slow footsteps.

I sat the pen down and turned to face the door. I couldn’t run any more.