I write this sitting in the kitchen sink because it’s the only place that’s safe. I don’t know what the little bastards are, but they're mean and there’s a lot of them.
They came from the woods. I suppose it’s my own fault, sort of. Something was getting into the trash cans, so I put out live traps. Figured I’d catch ‘coons or 'possums raiding the garbage. Boy, was I wrong!
I went out the next morning and there was one of those little buggers in the trap. Snarling and glaring with pure hate. It was only about eight or nine inches tall, slick gray hide mottled with ugly purple. And teeth, it had nasty, yellow, pointy teeth. Lots of ‘em. Along with nasty, black claws. I may have screamed.
So I got a shovel out of the shed, prepared to beat the shit out of it. Of course, I couldn’t do that with the cage closed, and I wasn't about to open it. So I got the garden hose, prepared to drown the critter.
It didn’t drown. I hit it with the water and it screeched an awful snarly screech. Then it shriveled up like a raisin and fell into pieces. I may have screamed again.
But at least it was gone and my garbage was safe.
Hah!
I was fixing my supper when I heard the trash can lid hit the ground. “Damn,” I thought, “ there can’t be another one.”
But oh yeah, there was another one, or twelve or twenty. And they were pissed. It wasn’t just the trash they were after this time.
I went out yelling, intending to grab the hose and “raisin” the whole bunch of ‘em. It’s my belief that’s what they were waiting for. I wasn’t two steps out the door before they were after me. I know I screamed then.
I hightailed it back inside, but them sonuvabitches is quick. They got inside with me.
I couldn’t get to the bathroom, so I ended up here in the sink. I’ve got the dish sprayer, and I “raisined” a couple. I managed to reach a grill fork and stabbed another two or three, they bleed foul smelling, yellow yuck, but that doesn’t seem to kill ‘em. Just slows ‘em down a bit.
The water is what gets ‘em. They’ve backed off for a while. I’m not sure where they went, but I’ll be damned if I’m getting out of the sink.
Shit, I think I hear ‘em coming back. They sound kinda gleeful…
YOU ARE READING
Whispers From the Dark
FantastikA collection of short tales inspired by various writing group prompts. Most live on my blog http://www.elsetimeandotherwhen.Blogspot.com Some have been reworked. Some are previously unpublished. I'll add them randomly, one at a time.