Short story ideas

They're here

(This story is inspired by the song by Jake Hill of the same title)

   I sat alone, huddled in my attic. Food was running low and my mind was filling with voices in the absence of others. I heard another loud blast in the distance; a low pitched "werrrrrr" followed by a boom. It made me jump every time and clutch my gun.

   Yesterday I watched my neighbors burst from their house in an attempt to run, but they were caught before the end of the block. Their screams still ring in my ears. I remember when our kids would play together...

   Suddenly I heard my front door slam open. I clutched my gun and stood up. I heard footsteps slowly creak up the steps and low whistles. I heard the downstairs tv turn on, then off. I heard the lights flicker on then off. The upstairs tv's turned on, then off. The kids toys began making sounds and music before dying. I jumped again as my radio began blasting the emergency broadcast signal. Over the horrible sounds, I heard stomping as they ran over to the attic trap door. I had taken the rope and screwed it into the ceiling so it couldn't come down. I heard them grab the outside string and try pulling it to no avail. Then I heard pounding. I heard more footsteps running up the stairs to where the trap door was. The banging got louder and then stopped. There was a loud bang and then a hole in the door. The shot also lacerated the rope. The trap door was pulled down violently and I heard a screech. I readied my rifle and began firing as they climbed up the attic stairs. I lit the Molotov cocktail I had ready and tossed it down the stairs, exploding into a ball of flames. Deafening screeches erupted as my home was engulfed in flames. I ran out of bullets and one rushed me through the flames. I held my gun out between the two of us and managed to push it to the ground. I kicked it in the side and hammered the stock of my gun into its head. It covered it's face and screeched loudly. I pulled my revolver from my pocket and shot it through the arm and the head, in one shot, killing it. As I looked up, I saw the flames had spread halfway across the attic. Another jumped through the flames and tackled me out the attic window. I landed with a back full of glass and a concussion. It stood up and ran at me again but I shot it in the stomach and then the neck. I heard the horrible "wurrr" again, louder and closer this time. I attempted to stand, and collapsed back to the ground. I looked down and saw a shard of glass had impaled my  leg below the knee. I began to drag myself backwards towards the closest house as I watched mine erupt in flames. I heard the "wurr" even louder and the ground shook. Something busted through a nearby house and crash landed in the street, making a small crater, a few feet across. I began crawling faster as the smoke cleared. Some sort of bulky metal suit emerged from the crater and began walking towards me. I fired a couple shots at it that bounced off, leaving it unharmed. It grabbed me by the broken leg, its grip shattering the glass in my leg. I screamed in pain and it threw me into the porch if the house, sending me through the railing. I crawled inside through the open door, and slammed it behind me. I grabbed a nearby chair and used it as a crutch to hobble around the house as quick as I could. I grabbed a glass from the counter and set it on the table. I heard the footsteps outside getting closer. I ran into a child's room and began looking through the shelves. Nothing. I went to the parents room, throwing things about frantically. In an old box in the bottom of the closet, I found an old fashioned etch-a-sketch from the 90's. I threw it into the kitchen and hobbled into the living room, now with the strength to walk on my own. There was a toolbox sitting by a window that had been boarded up. I rummaged through it until I found something useable; a rusty old hand saw and a I grabbed an old oil lamp the family had been using. I took it back to the kitchen and saw the metal suit climbing the steps of the porch. I used a kitchen knife and cut open the etch-a-sketch and dumped the lead balls into the glass. I began frantically scraping the rust off the saw with the knife. I busted the oil lamp with the hilt of the knife and let the oil spill down into the glass. The door busted open as I grabbed a grill lighter from beside the stove. I turned to the metal suit clanging towards me and said out loud, "lead and iron oxide; that makes thermite" and I lit the oil with the lighter.
   The suit picked me up off the ground by my throat and I dropped the glass on its head as the thermite ignited. It burned so hot that it melted through the suits mask and it dropped me. It fell to the ground clutching its head before falling over, dead. I pulled up a chair and sat down. I began coughing violently and some blood came out into my hand. I grabbed a washcloth from the counter and tied it around my leg. I checked my revolver. Just one shot left. I set my gun on the table and found a glass and some scotch. I sat down and took a drink, followed by more violent coughing. I set the glass down and gripped my gun.