Unwanted Visitors


The wind whistles through the broken window. Shadows move as if ghosts through the room. Old dusty floorboards creak as the old building shifts. A pair of children cower in the corner behind the cot they share. Father leans against the wall next to the open doorway, readying himself. Whispers can be heard, floorboards are pushed to their limit as weighty spectres move across the room. Father prepares himself, he will protect them. He will do what he must.

This was the world now.

They keep moving, searching for something. One moves down the hall, toward the children’s room. Father says a silent prayer, hefts the heavy weapon in his hands. He glances at the kids, they’re scared eyes looking for reassurance in his. The moonlight shows a long shadow on the floor, moving closer. It stops to check another room. The building breathes again replaced by an unsettling silence. The shadow moves closer still. The children holding each other’s mouths to keep from making a sound.

The figure reaches the threshold, pausing. It’s back is turned. Father leans closer, feet spread, his muscles tense, sweat drips from his forehead. The figure moves, it turns and takes a step into the room. Realization sweeps across the stranger’s face, children are here. Suddenly a mighty crack erupts throughout the house and the figure slumps heavily to the floor. Father hefts the weapon again, peering around the doorway. The ghosts whisper loudly, arguing.

Father moves out of the room, motioning to the children to stay and hide. He creeps as quietly as he can, his boots making only the slightest sound. The whispers grow louder. They are in the kitchen he realizes. He reaches the doorway, listening intently. He can only make out two voices. The door’s hinges lay bearen, the task of holding the door long forgotten. He moves his head slowly until  he can see into the shadowy room. The figures are animatedly arguing, blackened silhouettes against the moonlight. He tries to size them up, telling himself to stay come and be deliberate. This is no time for half measures.

He turns the corner letting out a mighty bellow. The figures jump in terror. Father picks up an old chair sitting next to the doorway, throwing it with one hand as hard as he can at the larger figure. Then charges the second raising his sledge above his head. He brings it down, but misses the head and the blow lands on the shoulder, emitting a sickening crack. The figure crumples holding it’s shoulder. Father turns, the other recovering from the chair. It is over in a second, Father jabs the face and brings the butt of the sledge down and across the head, the figure crashes to the floor unconscious.

The second figure, still holding it’s shoulder brings up a hand, asking for mercy. Father spits on the plea, asking “Why do you deserve to live?” He hefts the heavy sledge preparing himself once more. The figure pleas “I’m like you, I just want to protect my family.” He looks more closely, realizing the figure is shapely, feminine. He pulls the face up to see her eyes. Tears run down her cheeks, reflected brightly in the moonlight.

“I’m pregnant” she whispers. “Please don’t kill me.”

In The Night…


I lay in bed, the harsh light from my computer illuminates my face. Darkness surrounds me. I must have lost track of time. I’ve been down here for so long. I slowly stand, blood rushes to my head and stars cross my vision, the dizziness dissipates and eventually I make my way out of my room. I peer out the glass doors, the invisible guardians that keep the world out there. As I stare at the trees movement causes a light to illuminate the backyard, birds scramble off the feeder, escaping the light as quickly as possible. Squirrels sit, staring back at the light, staring back at me. A figure moves, a shadow, just out of the lights reach. It moves down the gentle slope towards the lake. I stare, hard. The shape looks familiar, almost human like, but its movements are animalistic. Suddenly its head turns and its eyes are illuminated, huge glaring eyes.

I shudder and tell myself it wasn’t real. I explore the house looking for the dog, I need someone to distract me. I find her soon enough and she follows me back to my room. As we lay in bed I pet her, and soon we have both drifted off into a realm of dreams.

I wake to an eyeful of sunlight trying its best to muscle its way into the room, through the inadequate blinds. The dog, Frey, wakes as I begin to get out of bed. I make my way to the kitchen for breakfast, she of course follows, knowing scraps will surely follow a meal. The day continues as normal, I write and read and we go for a walk. As we stroll through the forest I find myself continuously looking around, I am wary and can’t stop my mind from returning to the odd figure of the previous night.

The day runs its course and once again I am in bed, the hours disappearing into the night. Frey suddenly stirs, her ears on alert, she bolts out of bed and runs to the doors. I curiously follow and we both stare out into the murky black of night. Shadows move and fall, a loud bark breaks the silence, I almost jump out of my skin. Frey must see, or smell something. Her tail falls between her legs, she barks once more. She looks up at me, I feel as if I can see terror in her eyes, her whines break the silence. My nerves starting to fray, I grab a flashlight and point it towards the lake. Yet again I am forced to stare just beyond the light’s reach.

The figure suddenly appears, it’s odd gate making it easier to spot. It moves again towards the lake. This time I decide to grab an axe and venture out into the dark. I open the doors as quietly as I can and slowly begin walking towards it. My eyes adjust quickly to the moonlight. As I near the creature, I begin to smell it, a stench, almost of death. The creature seems to be drinking, or eating. It is crouched by the water, with what seems to be a fish in its hands.

For some reason, which I still cannot understand, I yell, I scream at it to get away, to leave. Startled it turns to face me, its eyes glaring, it seems just as terrified as me. We stare at each other, neither of us moving. I raise my axe, yell and charge.

It shies away, giving in, then it turns and awkwardly lopes away.

Never again have I seen that strange creature.