Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Photo-Microfic: Nightmare Alley

Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.

Nightmare Alley

It tore through town like a hurricane, leaving crushed cars and downed phone poles in its wake.  The creature was the size of a house and we could do nothing more than watch, rapt, eyes barely peeking over window sills in darkened living rooms, hoping against hope that it would not round on us.

Old Joe Smith was stupid enough to amble outside with his .45, drunk from the night’s 12-pack.  The slug bit into the thing’s carapace and it screeched some sound I’d wager’s never been heard before or since, then swiped him from the ground like a kid lazily snatching a doll from the floor. I swear it locked eyes with him for a moment. Old Joe was completely silent, hypnotized by the thing's stare. Without warning it bit his head clean off, dropped the rest of him from its slowly unclenching claw and continued right on through town and into the forest beyond.  The trees went down like tall grasses under a man's foot.  Joe’s blood sprayed the pavement on Howard Street the darkest red I can ever remember seeing.
An army man, name of Phillip, came through the next day and told us all that we were bound by law not to tell anyone what we had seen the night before.  He gave us money and told us to keep our mouths shut or we’d be disappeared quicker than you can blink.

And we did.  But I’m old now.  The money's gone and I’m dying.  And I needed to tell someone.  I can’t take these nightmares to the grave with me.  I just can’t. They’re yours now. All yours.

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