his way over. While Deemi
struggled with the first guard, I saw my opportunity to win
Christmas. Except for the kid who never actually joined his side,
Deemi seemed to be the only survivor from his Daycare unit. Once I
go rid of him, Christmas would be ours. And Deemi would be gone for
good.
The second guard slowly weaved his way
through the gifts, weapon ready. Then it happened – my chance came.
The first guard, weaponless, broke away from Deemi. I ran from the
tree for Deemi, tackled him and struggled for the weapon he’d
taken. The next thing I knew Snuks was yelling at me.
“Stop it, Chronos. Stop. Ceep can’t
bring you back if you die. He can’t hold any of us
anymore.”
I let go of Deemi and shoved her away.
“Go back!” I screamed. The second guard grabbed Snuk’s arm. “No!” I
started after him, but he brought his weapon to her face. I stopped
and watched him drag her, screaming, backwards through the
gifts.
Behind me I could hear Deemi laughing,
and I turned to face him. He had the weapon he’d taken from the
first guard aimed at me.
“You lose,” he said. And in that
instant a hole burned through Deemi’s neck as another guard shot
him from behind. I thought I would be next but the guard walked
away, following the one that carried Snuks. I watched the two dults
take her out. Then they all left Daycare and Christmas.
“They won’t be coming back,” a voice
beside me said. It was Teb. “Ceep’s gonna let you decide what
should happen at Daycare.”
I saw the small parcel I’d seen
earlier, the one tagged for Snuks. It was crushed; the lighting
mechanism on the tag had gone out. I kicked it away. Ceep didn’t
want any more Christmases – not like this one. That was why he
brought Teb and the other kid. I supposed it was the only way he
could stop it. “Ceep” I yelled up at the trees. “I don’t want any
more either.” There was silence.
Behind us the wall began to hum and
change color. The gate slowly sank into the ground, and the two
small kids held my hands as we slowly approached the opening. There
were no dults anywhere. I thought about Ceep, but he’d already said
goodbye. So the three of us walked through the opening and never
looked back.
END
Thank you for reading my
stories with my new imprint Keyboard Books!
Here is a sample from my
next collection which features fantasy stories entitled Feral Fantasy .
Rhea Rose
Summer Silk
“That’s a wolf spider, not a
tarantula!” Milo, my ten-year-old son explained, as I ran around
the kitchen with the broom and tried to bat the huge beast out of
the corner and down the heating vent. The terrified arachnid
collapsed, crinkled its hairy legs and became as light as
dust.
Milo bent to retrieve the carcass.
“Don’t touch it,” I shouted, jumping backwards. Milo poked at the
brown, inert pile; they always reminded me of a ball of discarded
thread when they played dead.
“Toss it in the toilet now, before it
wakes up,” I ordered.
“I want to collect it,” he pleaded; I
caved. “Thanks, Mom,” he said with such glee you’d think I’d bought
him a video game. He ran off from the kitchen to a corner of the
barn to find a jar to store the critter in.
“Make sure it has a tight lid,” I
hollered. No response. He hears everything, but never lets you know
until one day he’s repeated word for word all your gossip overheard
during a phone conversation. Sometimes I could just kill that sweet
kid.
As the weeks went by the webs around
the kitchen window and doors thickened even though I worked hard to
clean them away. The porch lights became killing fields. The bug
blood from the midsummer slaughter stained the house’s vinyl
siding. The marks faded if I used bleach.
This morning I stepped onto the porch
to catch a glimpse of the late summer sunrise over our fields of
large, green and orange mottled pumpkins, I walked into a gigantic
web. It stuck to my neck; it stuck to the gloss recently applied to
my
struggled with the first guard, I saw my opportunity to win
Christmas. Except for the kid who never actually joined his side,
Deemi seemed to be the only survivor from his Daycare unit. Once I
go rid of him, Christmas would be ours. And Deemi would be gone for
good.
The second guard slowly weaved his way
through the gifts, weapon ready. Then it happened – my chance came.
The first guard, weaponless, broke away from Deemi. I ran from the
tree for Deemi, tackled him and struggled for the weapon he’d
taken. The next thing I knew Snuks was yelling at me.
“Stop it, Chronos. Stop. Ceep can’t
bring you back if you die. He can’t hold any of us
anymore.”
I let go of Deemi and shoved her away.
“Go back!” I screamed. The second guard grabbed Snuk’s arm. “No!” I
started after him, but he brought his weapon to her face. I stopped
and watched him drag her, screaming, backwards through the
gifts.
Behind me I could hear Deemi laughing,
and I turned to face him. He had the weapon he’d taken from the
first guard aimed at me.
“You lose,” he said. And in that
instant a hole burned through Deemi’s neck as another guard shot
him from behind. I thought I would be next but the guard walked
away, following the one that carried Snuks. I watched the two dults
take her out. Then they all left Daycare and Christmas.
“They won’t be coming back,” a voice
beside me said. It was Teb. “Ceep’s gonna let you decide what
should happen at Daycare.”
I saw the small parcel I’d seen
earlier, the one tagged for Snuks. It was crushed; the lighting
mechanism on the tag had gone out. I kicked it away. Ceep didn’t
want any more Christmases – not like this one. That was why he
brought Teb and the other kid. I supposed it was the only way he
could stop it. “Ceep” I yelled up at the trees. “I don’t want any
more either.” There was silence.
Behind us the wall began to hum and
change color. The gate slowly sank into the ground, and the two
small kids held my hands as we slowly approached the opening. There
were no dults anywhere. I thought about Ceep, but he’d already said
goodbye. So the three of us walked through the opening and never
looked back.
END
Thank you for reading my
stories with my new imprint Keyboard Books!
Here is a sample from my
next collection which features fantasy stories entitled Feral Fantasy .
Rhea Rose
Summer Silk
“That’s a wolf spider, not a
tarantula!” Milo, my ten-year-old son explained, as I ran around
the kitchen with the broom and tried to bat the huge beast out of
the corner and down the heating vent. The terrified arachnid
collapsed, crinkled its hairy legs and became as light as
dust.
Milo bent to retrieve the carcass.
“Don’t touch it,” I shouted, jumping backwards. Milo poked at the
brown, inert pile; they always reminded me of a ball of discarded
thread when they played dead.
“Toss it in the toilet now, before it
wakes up,” I ordered.
“I want to collect it,” he pleaded; I
caved. “Thanks, Mom,” he said with such glee you’d think I’d bought
him a video game. He ran off from the kitchen to a corner of the
barn to find a jar to store the critter in.
“Make sure it has a tight lid,” I
hollered. No response. He hears everything, but never lets you know
until one day he’s repeated word for word all your gossip overheard
during a phone conversation. Sometimes I could just kill that sweet
kid.
As the weeks went by the webs around
the kitchen window and doors thickened even though I worked hard to
clean them away. The porch lights became killing fields. The bug
blood from the midsummer slaughter stained the house’s vinyl
siding. The marks faded if I used bleach.
This morning I stepped onto the porch
to catch a glimpse of the late summer sunrise over our fields of
large, green and orange mottled pumpkins, I walked into a gigantic
web. It stuck to my neck; it stuck to the gloss recently applied to
my
Similar Books
