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damnitnappa1317 · 4 years

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The birds flew away.

The flapping of their wings was almost eerie as the sound faded away. The constant squeaking and chirping of the birds was the only thing to be heard for miles and with them gone, she was left with nothing but deafening silence and her thoughts. Since losing David, that's all that was left. She took in those few moments of calm before the storm hit. Because, when the birds flew away, danger was on the horizon. There was no real way of telling what it was that was headed her way, as there were so many things to be weary of these days. It might be some stray bandits looking for resources, or a pack of wild coyotes looking for food. She could only hope that whatever was headed her way could be as minuscule as coyotes or a band of humans. But then, is life ever easy?

She took a deep breath of fresh air. No telling when she’d be outside again. She walked through the doorway of the house she shared with David for 18 years. The memories of him were intrusive, but there was no time for nostalgia. She pushed the thoughts away, bolted the three strong bolts on the door that David said they’d never need since they lived in the country, and pulled the curtains closed. Whatever was headed her way didn’t need to see inside of her home. She gathered some food, books and other necessities and walked down the narrow hallway to her safe spot. Halfway down the hallway, She stopped and looked up and what, to most people, just looked like a flat ceiling. She smiled and remembered the day David painted over the attic door. He didn’t think it would blend in so well with the ceiling, but if you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t see it. A simple mistake that saved her life on so many occasions. She pushed David out of her head once again and set her things down. She needed to hurry, since there was no real way of telling what kind of danger was heading her way or how long it would be before it made it to her doorstep. She pulled the rug away from the wall and reached under a broken piece of floor trim, another clumsy mistake of Davids from when he tripped moving a piece of furniture down the hall, and retrieved a key. She pulled the foot stool out of the bathroom, stood on it and unlocked the attic. She pulled down the stairs, and they creaked and moaned with age, much like her bones did at this age. She put the stool back, gathered her things, and hurried up the stairs as fast as her old bones would let her. She pulled up the stairs behind her, sat the key in the window sill, and settled into her bed. She improvised out of old pillows and blankets. She dared not turn on any lights, as she was still unsure of what was heading her way, so she sat in the dark nibbling on crackers, looking out the window to assess the danger.

It wasn’t long before she could hear the commotion outside. Human voices, loud and raucous. A little sigh of relief slipped out of her lips. Humans were easy to handle. She’d done it many times since all of this started, with the trusty shotgun David insisted she kept in case a bear came onto the property clasped firmly in her hands. It doesn’t matter how old you are. If you have a shotgun in their face, they’re going to be intimidated. It was the others she was worried about. She watched as the group of 3 men and 4 women walked down the street. They were definitely intoxicated. She could almost smell the alcohol from her attic. They laughed, and screamed obscenities and they walked down that old dirt road, not even really giving her house a second glance. One girl jumped on another's back, giggling and snorting. They weren’t here to cause trouble. They were out being young adults, as they should be free to do. The old woman thought fondly about the time she spent running up and down that road with David and their friends. She smiled, as the group reminded her of them in a way.

The old woman caught movement in the field next to the road out of the top of her eye. A large figure was quickly heading towards the road. Her heart sank. She knew what was headed their way. She’d seen these creatures only twice before, but both times were so traumatizing, she knew she’d never forget what these creatures looked like. “Wait.” she thought “The sun is still out. They only hunt at night.”

She started knocking on the window, in hopes of getting the group's attention, but they had caught the movement too and two of the boys were investigating. She shouted, and screamed as she banged her old fists on the window, but to no avail. The creature jumped swiftly out of the brush, snatching the boy closest to it. There was barely any time to process the events that were happening before the old woman's eyes. A flash of black, and the first boy was gone. The second boy wasn’t as lucky. A long, black, tentacle flew from between the weeds, striking the second boy in the front of the neck, with a long black barb, protruding out the back. He clawed at the appendage sticking through his neck in vain. The creature shook his tentacle back and forth violently, blood and gore flinging everywhere, until the boy flew off the end of the tentacle and into the field. One of the girls screamed at the carnage. Her scream wasn’t long lived though as a large clawed hand reached out to grab her. The claws pierced her right side, and blood began to pour out. She was quickly jerked into the brush. The others ran but they found no mercy. One by one, the monster picked them off, pulling into the grass at an unnatural speed, in vivid flashes of red. The woman watched in terror, unable to do anything for them except pray that the monster makes it quick. But she knows it won’t. It didn’t when it got her best friend. It didn’t when it got her son. The woman sunk to the floor, trying to ignore the screams from the people getting massacred outside her window. They were loud, guttural screams of terror. It took everything the woman had to ignore them, as the thoughts of her friends and sons' deaths fought their way to the surface. She fought them harder though, trying to concentrate on the cracker she had in her hand. It was white, and had no smell. Crunchy, salty, and stale. Crunchy, salty, and stale. She tried to concentrate on those three words, as the screaming outside started to get closer and louder. So close, in fact, she could make out the words “Please. Help me! I don’t want to die!” She looked out the window and down on the porch below her was one of the young women from the group. She was bloodied, bruised, and dirty with tears running down her dark face. Her braided hair had grass and dirt in it. The young woman looked up and made eye contact with the old woman in the window. Her brown eyes got big with hope and she waved fervently to the old woman.

“Please!!” she screamed. “You can’t leave me out here! That thing killed my friends! Help me! Please!” she begged and sobbed.

The old woman was stunned. How did she escape that thing? How was she fast enough? The old woman knew she had to act quickly if she was to save this girl. She shuffled as fast as her old legs would carry her to the stairs and pushed the door open. She stumbled down the stairs, careful not to fall because who knows what a fall could do to her at this age. The stairs slide back up into place as she walked away, and the door clicked shut behind her. She hurried to the door, hands shaking and unsteady as she unlocked the three big locks on her door. After what felt like too long, the door was unlocked and flung open. The young woman shrieked in relief as the old woman opened the door. She stumbled through the door and the old woman slammed it behind her, locking all three locks as quickly as she could. The only thing that was left was the sound of both of the women breathing heavily. The young woman gulped and wiped her face.

“My name's Meghan.” she said in a small shaky voice.

The old woman's voice was just as shaky.

“Maryanne” she said simply.

Meghan cleared her throat.

“Well thank you fo-” her sentence was cut off by shattering glass and a sharp shriek. Maryanne stumbled forward to keep from being hit by the glass. She turned and the monster was towering over her. She may have seen one before, but never this close. It was tall, lean, and somewhat humanoid shaped. One long tentacle protruded out of its back. It was black and spotted red. Some was blood from the boy, some seemed to be spots that the monster naturally had. It had sharp red eyes, shaped more like bloody slits cut where eyes would be. It’s entire body was black, and almost slimy. It had large clawed hands, much bigger than a human males hands. Its claws are at least 8 inches long, shiny and sharp. It let out an unnatural groan as it approached Maryanne. She knew that this meant death. She was unsure if she should be mad at the girl for getting her killed, or greatful that she’d soon be with David and her son. She was almost ready to accept her excruciating death, when Meghan struck the monster with the glass insert from Maryanne's coffee table.

“NOT TODAY FUCKER!” she screamed as the glass shattered over the monster. It shrieked and stumbled. Maryanne knew that the thing would surely tear little Meghan in half.

“Stupid child!” Maryanne thought to herself. “Why didn’t she fucking run when she had the chance?”

Meghan pulled a small black box out of her pocket, and stuck it dead in the middle of the monsters face. She pushed the red button on the side and the monster started convulsing violently, shrieking and slowly falling to the ground. Smoke and steam began to rise from the spot she hit him. Maryanne was stunned. Meghan ran and grabbed her hand.

“Come on.” she said, pulling Maryanne to her feet. “We don’t have long before it's up. Is there somewhere we can go?” Maryanne, still shocked at the events unfolding before her, could only manage two words.

“Hallway. Attic” she said breathlessly.

“Let’s go then.” Meghan insisted as she softly tugged at the old womans arm. Maryanne shuffled quickly, in a daze to the hallway. Meghan stopped in the hallway and looked up.

“Where is the attic?” she said in a tense voice, but Maryanne was already pulling the stool out of the bathroom. She placed the stool under the attic door and reached for the key she stuck in the pocket of her baggy grey sweatpants. But her pocket was empty. She tried the other pocket. Empty. Where was the key? She began to panic. The only way up was with that key. She thought back to when she first went up to the attic. She got the key out from under the trim, went up the stairs, closed the door and put the key in her-- not in her pocket. On the window sill. Why would she put the damned key on the window sill?! David was always lecturing her about that kind of thing when he was alive. She groaned in frustration.

“What's wrong?” Meghan said, clearly panicked now.

“The only key to the attic is sitting upstairs in the window sill.” Maryanne said softly yet aggravated.

“What?!” Meghan shouted “Why is it in the window sill? Why wouldn’t you put it somewhere smart like, oh, I don’t know, your pocket?!” she said exasperated. Maryanne snapped at her.

“I didn’t think I’d be required to save an ignorant child this evening.”

“Don’t be so condescending.” Meghan retorted “All you had to do was not-”

A low growl got their attention and Meghan covered her mouth to keep in a shriek. Maryannes heart began to race. There was nowhere to go. They were exposed in the hallway, the key to their only hiding space sitting inside the hiding space and the growling was getting closer and more menacing.

#writing prompt #random writing

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