Wednesday. Just Wednesday. You should already know what this means. I mean I can’t help you if you are lost in your own world or something. But then I guess I could give you a hint. It’s vote day over at Indies Unlimited.
They give out a written and picture prompt on Saturdays, we have till Tuesday to get a story (250 words or less) written and posted to their site, and then on Wednesdays we get to vote on the stories that were selected to best represent the prompts.
Whatever the things were that had been coming to McAllister’s farm and eating his chickens had been coming down this creek bed.
The little creek, if that’s what you could call it, had not been here a year ago. It formed after the quake. McAllister thought it had been the result of the quake. Now he suspected the quake had been a mere side effect of whatever had happened.
Those things – whatever they were – were not of this world; not of this time, anyway. It was as if some sort of portal had opened up. Now something was getting through from the other side.
From the shadows ahead, he could hear them, scurrying and trilling. Gooseflesh formed on his arms. McAllister took the safety off and stepped forward…
A group of ten or so danced around one of his chickens, Ol’ Red. That chicken had been on his farm now five years. Red had been a powerhouse too. She could lay eggs like nobodies business. Well, she used to, now she was getting past her prime and McAllister planned to slaughter her for dinner soon.
He focused on the creatures after his attention fell away from Ol’ Red. Small, green, large pointy ears, probably as big as their heads, they knew he was there, heard him walk up on ‘em.
Their teeth, pointed, sharp, deadly, glared at him as they reflected the sun’s light through the trees. McAllister wanted to leave, run, but their teeth, something about their teeth froze him in place.
As they approached him, they clumped together, ready to swarm. McAllister lifted his weapon, twin shotgun barrels pointed at the group’s center mass. They leaped toward him, a mass of teeth and sickly green flesh.
McAllister didn’t panic. He squeezed the trigger and released hell fire and lead into the center of the creature swarm. His hands shook as he pulled shells from his jacket pocket. The creatures rallied for another charge as shells hit the ground. New rounds released into the center mass again and the rest dropped away.
As the last of them fell to the ground, the portal closed up. The creatures faded away as McAllister cut the ropes that held Ol’ Red.