Shorts

“There’s nothing in the damned cupboard, now go to sleep!” “That’s right,” cooed the strange voice once Mum left the room, “there’s nothing in here at all.”

I’ve been on the road for months now, town to town, city to city, and no one seems to see me. It’s as if I’m invisible, or dead, or.

He never knew what woke him that night. But there was no mistaking his mother’s demented face as her clawed fingers reached down to steal his breath.

A dozen pairs of gleaming eyes reflected the beam of my torch as I swept around the cellar. Their feral brightness startled me and the hairs on my neck bristled. “Rats!” “So what if we are?” a high pitched voice squealed in challenge. I inhaled sharply. “Rats can’t talk,” I muttered as I peered along the beam. “Who’s there?” “They can too talk,” a second voice squeaked back. I gasped again and paused and re-evaluated my earlier statement. My long held beliefs on the nature of things had just been dramatically shaken and I could recall nothing from the training manual that would have prepared me for this. ...

I stood at the top of the gentle incline and studied the grazing herd. I had been tracking them for several days and was now tired and very hungry. My furs were damp and muddy, leaving me feeling cold and uncomfortable. “Well, here goes nothing.” I raised my club above my head. Then I screamed as loudly as I could and launched myself down the slope. The club began to whistle as I whirled it through the air. ...

I looked down from my tree and saw a large, furry animal feeding upon the remains of a smaller but equally furry animal. At first I felt sickened but quickly mastered the urge. “Nature must run it’s course,” I declared. “Cobblers!” the green and red parakeet I shared my perch with exclaimed. Silence enveloped us once more and we watched the red sun sink slowly beyond the distant horizon. “Night,” said I, once twilight had come and gone. “At last.” Perhaps, I thought on, it will get cooler now. ...