Future Paths of Many Issue 3.2

Once more, a clap of thunder roared to life, in the endless dark night. The flicker of the candles, rose and fell, as the flames ate away on the pickers. Shadows shuddered along with the flames, flashes of lighting, and bright glare of the flashlight; that wandered crazily that would make dance clubs flitch in pain.

 

 

An leaving sigh came from one of the shadows, reaching and grabbing for the said flashlight.

 

 

“Zam, stop, please, you’re hurting my eye sight over here.”

 

 

The one named Zam, glared at the other who took his flashlight, and quickly tried to get it back.

 

 

But another stop them both. Taking the moment to tighten up the blankets around them, that kept them both warm. Really wishing, for some adults to keep the children intact. Seeing, as that Parkland was having with the two.

 

 

“Knock it off, or so help . . .” Parkland started with, but grunted a hissy sigh, sitting back down, arms crossed.

 

 

“But, Park, what about if he comes?” Zam asked, concocting himself deeper into his blanket for signs he was saft.

 

 

Alan leaned near Zam, trying in a way of calming him, even if the whining that felt it going on for hours, was getting to Alan. But put on a strong face.

 

 

“How about a story?” Alan asked, knowing that’s all they need, a distraction.

 

 

Park rubbed her forehead in thought, before looking from the ceiling to Alan, soon asking. “Anything in mind?”

 

 

“How about a story you told, when you know, they left, the fun ones?”

 

 

The eldest looked at Alan with sadness of his choice of words, taking in how the light bitterness was there in his words, but before Park could reply to him. Zam gave a shout.

 

 

“That What Lives in Land Below Us!” Zam shouted, in a tone that was off, cut in the middle of joy and fear.

 

 

Park soon eyed her brother, away from Alan; noting to have a talk with him later.

 

 

“You sure? Last time I told that story, you never left mom and dad along for a month. Also you called the police when you saw, not one, but a seven sightings of it. Next call, won’t be a warning, Zam?”

 

 

Alan tried to keep from giggling, recalling from the last sleepover the two boys had, and by morning the cops were his family’s home door.

 

 

“I was young than. Times are different.” Zam bluntly stated, mocking the form his sister was doing in front of him. Arms cross, chin tilled a bit up, and chest slightly popped forward a bit. In show, he meant every word.

 

 

Park rose an eyebrow to him. Not trusting his words one second, but shrugged.

 

 

“Fine. But not a word to adults. Got it?”

 

 

Zam made a zipping motion on his lips, Alan flashed a crossed finger hand to her, to which Park wasn’t that surprise about. And with started the tale.

 

 

In pasted fables, adults found countless ways, to keep their children in line. For no adult could stand the very thought of one’s child going against their wishes. Quick as a breath, anew life of lies came to be. But the remain fact to this day, was it all really a lie, or the truth so real . . . no one care the conflicts that followed.

 

 

It lived below. Below the land we all upon. Eyeing all from a distance. Until the time called for it.

 

 

Taking it each step one would take, measuring it of the inner feast it could what lived below.

 

 

From the land below, where it hides is unknown, for it can see it all, and be seen.

 

 

A few that were once a prey, say, its size large but slim, hollow eyes with pin glows of cold iron, a smile of sharp teeth that stretch farther than that of a small dog, a boxer maybe, it’s back arches within it’s realm of hiding, long spider leg-like fingers flex in hunger, breathing, and laughter. A quiet laughter of a hummingbird’s wings. A body of wires or fine short hairs, warped around the being that of fog. With a long, flat, transparent, fork-shape tongue would poke through, that of lizard, sniffing around it. As again, that smile would go longer in appeasement, that it found it was looking for.

 

 

And luckily, easy enough to swallow.

 

 

Adults know so little of the danger that is under them. Go with ideas that children go missing that they bad, and ran from the voice of elders. Never to return.

 

 

Any adult would say it, but one, did not believe it. For his child did everything right. Why was his one and only child gone from his life? His child showed promise, going places, leaving this small town behind, and being something. Why? Why was this child gone forever?

 

 

The father got an answer. An answer that he believed that is.

 

 

Even if of the trick of the light, as he took his normal route home, from the graveyard. Once again visiting the empty grave of his child. With nothing but a cold stone remember of bleak future paths that would never come.

 

 

His body shook with hopes to still his tears from falling. There was not to be any weakness tonight. He planned to go, have a small dinner, than go to rest. As drinking was not strong enough to block out the pain, not even numbing it, but worming it. Stalling something, he nor his child would find wise.

 

 

Than a sound came.

 

 

Light and abuzz to the ears. To that of a fly or a bee.

 

 

Decay drowned his sence of smell, moss and copper coated it, that even more so as it burned slowly from a fire that could be seen from where the man stood.

 

 

Wishing not to stay any longer, in that area of town, dashed off.

 

 

The night clouded and clam, with the glows of the street lamps to see, fleeting feet ran harshly against concrete. His pants short and quick.

 

 

But the buzz nor smell died away.

 

 

He ran until coming close to home, making so far, patting himself to find his keys. He glanced around his shoulders for anything that had followed him, but the moment the key was found and within the lock.

 

 

All went still.

 

 

Silence.

 

 

Buzz and smell gone.

 

 

Only his breathless pants filled the night air.

 

 

He dared himself to turn again, eyes coming a lone figure under a lamp-post, holding on tightly a stuff toy of some kind. The child’s faint cries were heard. In sudden fear that whatever was after him before, comes back, it was best to get the child away from the danger.

 

 

Looking around once more, dashed to the child. Asking if the child was alright. The child shook her head, saying in soft whines she was bad and thrown out, in hopes it would tune her misbehavior in turning a new page with her parents, but alas that was three nights ago and far too late for her, she told him, never looking up.

 

 

He asked how was that for her parents to do such a thing, for she was this stricken with fear, if anything was too late, was their love and understanding. For again, she was nothing but a child.

 

 

With a hand stretch out had to child, tells her, tonight was no night for a child to be out late.

 

 

She replies back, finally looking up, eyes gone and stained in blood, a frown forever etched on her face. As she than udder the words, just as the man’s son, pointing behind him.

 

 

He turns, to see another figure. That what lives in land below, holding a hollowed out shell of the man’s son. The grin widen even more.

 

 

Buzz and decay filled the air once more. With the buzz growing louder, as the small whispers of the girl echoed back in understanding.

 

 

Pain stuck the man’s side, turning to see his kneecaps slashed by an unknown weapon, he never saw the girl hold before. As she dropped the rotted stuff toy to the ground, nails long just the other’s long spider leg’s fingers. Her face stone, cold, lacking any kind of life, as her body fell backwards.

 

 

Leaving the buzzing to deafening the man’s hearing. Until all he saw was darkness and fleeting thoughts of what became of his child. As sharp teeth sake into his flesh.

 

 

The man barely made a sound, for that, by the first bite, he was gone.

 

 

” . . . That What Lives in Land Below, took another life, far different, but it didn’t differ the thought, that maybe. Another night such as that, a mighty feast could be given. If it had the right uses such of that lucky night . . . “

 

 

A strike of thunder blasted louder than ever before, having all the kids screamed, earth shattering sound and the gust of wind picked up, snapping a window by them to open, blowing out the candles.

 

 

Park rushed up to close the window, locking it tightly, cursing to herself. But a smile on her face when seeing her parents car pulling up the driveway.

 

 

Yet, with another bolt of lighten, within the watercoated glass, something was off, but she shook it off, passing it off as if the story was just getting to her.

 

 

Going back to the others and relighting the candles, telling the boys who was back.

 

The End.