This is for my kids

 

Earlier this morning the weather android said it would be grey skies with a heavy chance of rain, same as it was for the past forty-eight years in Neo Chicago. My broken-down Toyota 2112 Highlander was leaking from the windows again and unfortunately, I forgot to buy the cybertape to fix the hole that my grandfather made when he crashed it as a teen. Annoyances were adding up as the traffic on the I-190 was murder. Aerocars clogged together like the arteries of a man who lived off of Taco Queen. I tried to let it not bother me and I called up my Grandfather’s old Spotify playlist to listen to some Golden Oldies, the voice of Billie Ellish filling my aerocar with melancholy and nostalgia.


An hour of slow travel later I finally arrived at my apartment, take a turn off Lightfoot lane to find a respectable old Chicago building. Gray stucco walls built over a century ago and definitely showed it. The Windows were an okay place to raise a family, the name coming from the fact that this apartment complex was the only apartment complex in all of the Eighteenth District to have real life windows in their apartments. Those windows were a greater badge of honor than a 2358 Ferrari, A constant reminder to me that I was unworthy. I only lived here because a friend of mine from college, Carey, owned the joint and let me crash here for free. As I pulled past the laser gate and snuggled my car into the cell it was assigned. I began my slow ascent to my apartment. My suit was soaked from all the rainwater and I needed a shower.


I opened the door to apartment 44, It was dark, I forgot to turn on the lights that morning. I stepped into the threshold and saw what always looked back at me. My apartment was a simple affair, a two bedroom with living room, the living room was simple, a buttery faux leather couch overlooking a sizeable screen. I flicked a switch and the synthetic fireplace turned on, giving this place a dark, unearthly atmosphere. The fire’s light licked over the walls of the room, covering pictures of our wedding, Darek’s first time riding a holobike, our family portraits and all our memories in a soft orange haze. I stepped forward and heard a crunching sound, looking down I saw the bent and broken face of one of my Cera’s dolls. I swept it aside and sunk into the couch. I could hear the pitter patter of rain upon the glass, the only noise in the whole apartment echoing quietly through the dark. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. I thought of the news, incurable the doctors told her. But she still fought. She tried her best, but in the end, it wasn’t worth the effort. Breaking out of the past I decided to watch a good tragedy to clear my mind, I called up my answering Android.


“Computer, play the last three messages.”


“Zzrt... last three message play back...”


The first act monologue was played by the role of a pale android dressed in a nurses outfit, informing me that Darek and Cera’s conditions hadn’t changed, that the symptoms of … whatever it was called, some obscure Latin name I couldn’t pronounce were mostly dormant, but could wake up any day now, informing me yet again that the price to save my children’s life would be Five-Hundred Thousand, and to contact my insurance for more information.


Act two began with the calm and gentle face of the Devil himself, Mr. Acthung. Informing me with a smile that it was his great displeasure to inform me that the Insurance policy our company used didn’t cover this illness, and that he was... truly sorry for my loss. An excellent performance that critics would call a delightful simulacrum of a man pretending to be human.


I told the answering machine to wait as I got up for an intermission, walking into the dirty kitchen, overrun with filthy plates, muddy glasses, and the detrius of a man who had completely given up, I ordered my proverbial popcorn and soda, A bottle of Jack Daniels, and returned to my seat for the thrilling conclusion.


The dramatic act three was controversial amongst cinephiles, as the director boldly chose to not grant our hero a respite of hope, for the real world doesn’t always have a happy ending. The ugly, warted face of Mr. Johnson, the manager of New Verity bank filled my screen with the faux sympathy of a man who really enjoyed making poor people suffer. Informing our hero in no uncertain terms that unfortunately the bank would not provide a loan to people of such... disreputable backgrounds, you understand, and recommended that I speak with my employer if the need really mattered that much.


And then cut to black, I didn’t want to applaud. As my good buddy Jack soothed the wounds, I heard a new sound I hadn’t heard before in the several times I had seen this story play out before, a light beeping noise.


“zrrt... One new message.”


Filling the screen was my only rock I had left. Carey was a simple man, long and lanky with a simple dress shirt and jacket with no tie. One would be forgiven for thinking that Carey’s father was secretly a globe, cause every aspect of his face was circular, a circular head, with a round shaped nose, round eyes, and round curly hair.


“Hey man, just calling in to check up on you, Sorry I was away on... business shall we say. I heard about Emily and the kids. Please, call me if there’s anything I can do.”


The machine flicked off, leaving me with the dark reflection of myself. Loose salt and pepper hair that used to be a thick healthy black. Thick stress lines that cut deep like canyons across my face. My unkempt gray suit and blue tie were still moist with rain, and I noticed the third button was missing from my jacket. I didn’t care. My hands rough and coarse, fake E-rolex on one, a tan line from where my wedding ring was on the other. I sighed; I knew what I had to do.


Carey told me to meet him at the Little Panda Diner, A place with a reputation that everyone in the eighteenth district knew. The little panda diner is one of the oldest, dirtiest, diners in all of Neo Chicago. Whether the dirtiness refers to the establishment or clientele has yet to be confirmed by a third-party source. Built ages ago by an immigrant with a dream from IChina, It is found by taking a right on Thunberg street down to the edge of the District 18 airdome lock. Built into the wall of the airdome itself, you are greeted with a smiling cartoon panda sticker plastered onto the brown windows, peeled from age so much that it looked more like zebra then a panda, once you force open the pale green door your sinuses are immediately mugged at knifepoint by the acrid stench of burnt peanut oil and soy sauce. The floor of the little panda was back in the old days a simple black and white checkered pattern, now gray with the blanket of dusted snuggled an inch thick on the ground. The room was haphazardly scattered with small brightly colored plastic tables strewn about like a toddler spilling its cyber M&Ms on the ground. Crammed thick on the tables like sardines were various menu tablets, cleaning lasers, hardlight chopsticks, and synthetic soy sauces. The whole room saturated in a green hazy light from the hololamps that were flickering with an unnatural staccato, the room would feel less claustrophobic but the but the layers of dirt on the windows were trapping the light, like a spider on its sticky web within the room. The pitter patter of rain upon the windows creating a dissonant syncopation that accompanied surreal movements, as the rain drops on the dirt of the windows gave it the look as if the windows were undulating. All overseen by a light humming from the chef behind the low countertop. As he let the android work as the waiter, an odd sight indeed in these years, preferring to man the grills himself. A thick cloud of smoke from the sizzling chicken steamed up the chef's horn-rimmed glasses, perspiration from the effort clinging to the hairs on his mustache and occasionally dripping down into the Moo Goo Gai Pan.


Carey was sitting at a table by the undulating windows, He was dressed to the nines as usual. We’d been friends for years, even with him choosing... that kind of lifestyle. I walked over to him and sat down. He smiled lightly and said:


"One General Tso's chicken for you, and one egg fried rice for me."


"Oh, thank you, Emily used to love this place."


I sniffed the chicken, it still carried that same smell from when we were just a bunch a kids ordering cheap takeout to facilitate a night of romance.


"You know I think they changed the recipe, at least since the last time I was here."


"Ah dammit, they forgot the rice."


"Really? sorry, you want some of mine?"


"No, it's alright, I'll suffer through it."


One of the first tricks I picked up in business school , was to make your client feel like you owed them, by denying Carey’s rice I was hoping to subconsciously make him want to help me, true what I was asking for was a lot bigger than some rice but I had to try.


"So... how are the kids doing?"


"... Not great."


"...the hospital bills I'm guessing?"


I swallowed, This wasn’t easy


"They want Five hundred thousand for treatment, I-I don't have that kind of money."


"Jesus"


"God Bless America am I right?"


"It's utterly criminal what these insurance companies would do for a quick buck, trust me I would know. Anyway, with the pleasantries out of the way. what's this I hear about you wanting to rob a bank?"


I gulped, him saying it out loud just made it … real somehow, before it was just some idea in the back of my head, some childlike dream of getting revenge against those that hurt me, but now, with Carey’s confident, well dressed gaze leveed at me, it felt less like a dream, and more like reality.


“Well, y-yes I was hoping that you could help me with... Your talents. I mean I help you with your talents, I mean I help me with-”


“It’s alright, I get it.” Carey cuts me off. He sighs and slowly raises some rice to his lips and thoughtfully chews.


“I know you need the money, but have you really thought about this? I mean, if your kids find out.”


“That’s a risk I have to take.” Gaining courage, I took my chance and kept pushing.


“Carey, I have no other options, I can’t get a loan, my insurance doesn’t cover it, I need that money, no matter what.”


Carey sighed again, weighing the rice on his hardlight chopsticks as if he were weighing the options in front of him.


“Alright, there is one job I could use your help with, if successful you’ll have your money and your kids will be fine, as long as you’re not afraid.”


“I’m not, I have to do this.”


Carey finished his rice, and cracked open a fortune cookie, he held up one to me.


“Fortune cookie?"


"Sure why not." I grabbed one, Carey read the little slip of paper on his.


"'Don't wait for your ship to come, swim out to it.'"


"Huh, what's that mean?"


"No idea, and yours?"


I cracked mine open.


"Wow, you've got to be kidding me."


"What is it?" "'A great fortune is in your future."


Carey smiled, humor dancing in his eyes.


"Really? boy isn't that ironic."





I waited in the large black Dodge 2400 Ram van, a haze of black from the sunglasses over my face giving everything a sinister tint to it. I sat and looked over the New Versera bank. The bank was a modern building, twisted steel walls that somehow managed to glow despite the heavy storm clouds pouring down from above. The building emanated power and prestige, the air felt thick in that way that it does when you were visiting a famous monument constructed ages ago. The importance of what you are standing next to practically choking you. I sighed and leaned back in the driver’s seat, reminding myself of my task for the twentieth time to make sure I didn’t screw up. I sighed and looked to my left. Between me and the door was a heavy Mk.330 Smith&Wesson blaster. I was scared to have it, but Carey assured me using a blaster was easy. Just point and shoot, the complex series of gleaming black tubes and cylinders were just for show he told me were just a force of habit from the designers, who used to build handguns back in the olden days. The soothing melodies of BIllie Ellish from the radio wasn’t coming my nerves, nor was the visit from my good friend Jack Daniels. I stopped. What was I doing? I was just a simple businessman, I shouldn’t be here, I should be at home, with my kids, I should be working on paperwork, I should be doing anything but sitting here in an aerocar waiting as my friend and his gang robbed one of the richest banks in all of Neo Chicago. I could feel the sweat pooling underneath my collar, a felt feverish and scared. So, I forced myself to repeat a simple prayer over and over.


“This is for my kids.”


“This is for my kids.”


“This is for my kids.


I heard shouting in the distance, screams and loud tinny whirring sounds of blaster fire so I spoke louder


“This is for my kids.”


“This is for my kids.”


I heard a rapping sound on the window, a thickly mustached man in a security coat motioned for me to roll down my window. As I did a cloud of e-cig smoke invaded my mouth and nostrils.


“Sir, there is a situation happening at the bank, I’m going to have to ask you to move.”


My insides were screaming in fear and horror, but the smoke from the cig clouded my mind in a haze and I did the only thing I could. Continue the vigil.


“This is for my kids.”


“Excuse me?”


“This is for my kids.”


“Sir, what are you saying?”


“This is for my kids.”


The security guard slowly put his hand to his hips, resting them lightly on the blaster there, whilst undoing the buckle he said:


“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”


Terror gripped my thoughts as I found myself unable to say anything else. Knowing I only had one option my hand crept to the blaster at my side, I only had one option left.


“This is for my kids.”


“Sir, Step out of the Vehicle!”


“T-this is for my kids.”


As if we were two actors who had been training for the scene for months, we simultaneously pulled the blasters up, At the last moment however I faltered, how could I kill this man? He was just doing his job. And I resigned myself to the fate I was given.


My face became a Jackson Pollock canvass as the security guards blood splattered across it and he inside of the car. Carey stood behind the hulking mass of flesh that used to be a man, blaster in hand. The rest was a blur of motion as the gang piled into the van with their sacks of money. They were screaming as a dixieland jazz concert of noise erupted around me but I had no idea what was said or done, for as I punched the aerocar down the highway, screaming police mechs behind us Only one thought remained in my head.


“This is for my kids.”

Journal 1b

Jacob cursed after as the hot steam from the engine erased him from view. The thick tunic of fog smelling of hot grease and mechanical fluids. Coughing heavily he hurtled himself away and kicked the car in anger. He screamed as raw hot pain shot up his leg. He fell backward and let out a sigh. Looking up to the canvas of the sky, a feeling of nostalgia filled his mind. God, this was exactly like that one day in high school.


On a warm summer night of 1977, Jacob’s dusty old truck chugged along down the bumpy rock road. A bolero of crickets sang through the dark of the night. Their melancholic chittering was better than any Bee Gees song. I felt a warmth on my shoulder as Rebecca leaned her head on my shoulder. Her frizzy red hair blending in naturally with the red of our school uniforms.


The road continued ahead through the tightly packed legions of trees. As we turned the bend I heard a sound like a sick cat attempting a heavy metal career. The car coming to a sudden stop causing us to fly and bang our head on the ceiling. We groaned, then looked at each other and laughed.

Journal 1a

The wanderer sighed as his foot broke through the brittle leather of his boots for the third time that day. The steady cobbled roads haphazardly formed a century ago by the American Empire had fallen into disrepair… is what a wanderer would have said about these roads twenty years ago. They had only gotten worse since that time. Nature had been overtaking them so as the tree roots beneath looked like the veins in the hands of an old woman. Such road hazards were hell on the wanderers gear, which was more used to soft earth as opposed to indifferent stone. The wanderer looked up to the sky, its wooly mud brown clouds the same color as his once gray clothes. Scanning the skies and nearby roads for danger, the wanderer took his finger to his cracked bloody lips and loosed a shrill canary-like whistle. Old Jereimah, on his last wobbly legs came to a halt with an annoyed winny. The whole wagon coming to a screeching halt. The wanderer ignored this, and let out three more whistles, red, blue and yellow flashes darted from the wagon onto the nearby trees. Three beautiful hawks, each a primary color squawked and squabbled until the wanderer spoke to them. “Marron, Azur, yout two fly ahead, keep an eye out on the road ahead, Ochur, you keep an eye on the wagon, I’ll be gone for a moment.” The hawks squawked in salute and set about to their tasks as the wanderer pushed into the wagon.

The wanderer was met with a mountain of treasure, what you, another man would call trash. Boxes of clothes, tools, rations, broken dolls, awls, twisted umbrellas, dirty mud covered stones, unraveled leathers and a whole further genealogy of stuff crammed into the wagon. The wanderer thumbed the small penknife drawing of a dog on the wooden post in the wall, a memento his grandfather left on the wagon when he was smaller than a pumpkin. The wanderer began his excavation, digging through books, candles, cups, broken knives and dirty cloths. A few moments later he found his Tutankhamun, a small red tomato made of cloth with needles sticking out of it. With expert hands the wanderer sewed the same hole he sewed more times that week than he ate in the past year. He sighed.

“Well Ol, Jeremiah, gotta get some new boots, let’s hurry to town.”

Ol Jeremiah whined in protest.

“Oh don’t worry, i’ll pick you up a carrot as soon as we get there.”

Ol Jeremiah accepted the bargain and began to march on. The wanderer hopped out of the wagon, whistled four times. His birds returned.

Hic Sunt Dracones draft two,

(This is the second draft, mainly focusing on adding extra details to help the story flow better.)

Grandpa Ted used to say: “ Little one, there is nothing more terrible in this world than the Dragons, If you see one, well, I’d tell ya to pray to God to save you, but even they couldn’t. ” On a cold painful morning in the fall of my teenage years, Grandpa Ted’s worst fears were realized. It was a lazy snappy September morning, The howling winds a grim portent of what was to come. The gray skies hung low overhead like an overbearing tutor, ready to strike with a ruler in hand. I shuddered at the weather but tried to keep my hopes up, I wasn’t about to let a little lack of sunshine ruin our family picnic. Cousin Petunia came all the way from the Countryside and I’d be damned if that was gonna stop it. My parents put me in charge of the food. After an hour of cutting, packing and seasoning, twenty delicious sandwiches and other simple goodies were ready for a classic day at the park. With our preparations complete, we all gathered outside our home as mom locked the door.

“Gotta keep the house safe from Dragons, right?” We all laughed.

The whole family strolled down on the way to the park. The children were snowflakes flying down in a blizzard, scurrying about excited for a fun filled day of games, good food, and family. The rest of the adults stood farther back, chattering about boring things like politics, with me in the middle of it all just trying to lose myself in nature. The fresh scent of apples clung to the air in stark denial of the sky, wrapping us in a warm hug of fall weather. The old bones of the trees creaked and listed with the wind like Grandpa Ted when he was sitting down in his chair near the front porch. The beautiful twilight years of nature settling in for winter. My trance ended when I heard a sharp cry from behind me. Uncle Jethro stumbled into a rough patch and fell face first into the mud. The adults brought him back up and I was elected to play the role as crutch. The thick scent of tobacco and lemon juice emanated from his coat gagging me, eau du uncle Jethro . His breathing was hoarse and ragged like the soft babbling of the brooks behind our home.

“Damn ankle, hey little one?”

“Yes uncle Jethro.”

“Whatever you do little one, don’t get old like me.”

And with that sage advice, we marched on in silence.

Nearly immediately I slammed face first into Aunt Gert’s enormous back, causing Uncle Jethro and I to tumble. Uncle Jethro angrily shouted:

“Hey! Watch where you are going Jerry! And Gertie! Why are you just standing there like a brain dead-!”

However, Aunt Gert completely failed to nervous Uncle Jethro’s colorful musings. She was a statue, transfixed forward, with a look of pure horror on her face that would have left Medusa herself impressed. Completing this gallery of horrified statues were the rest of my family, spellbound in fear by something up ahead. Standing on my toes I peered over the mountain of Aunt Gert’s back and saw something I had never even considered before.

Where the old park used to be had been completely decimated.The sounds of birds and the crickets went deaf, an unnatural silence fell over what once was the park. The trees, beautiful little streams, fields of flowers and grass had been exchanged for a completely alien Construction. It was huge. Like I was but a single wave within the whole ocean. A thousand, no a million times bigger than the small burrow the eighteen of us lived in. Incomprehensibly vast that no matter how much I strained and stretched I could barely even see two sides of the Construction. Unlike the simple comforting roundness of our homes, this Construction was built with harsh cutting angles and mathematical precision. The whole side we were on was a thick blood red. I only ever saw blood once when my brother James broke his leg while falling out a tree, the bone was sticking straight out and that thick red juice pulsed out in a way that made it queasy just to look at a similar color years later, with thick outlines of bone white.

My father was the first to react, he shook himself out of his stupor and said:

“What the, what on earth happened her-”

He was cut off by the most horrifying sound I had ever heard in my life. Raw squeaking and screaming noises to the rhythm of a sigh, as the construction morphed open to accommodate a massive hole in it. Suddenly, a horror I would see in my nightmares for years to come lurched out of the hole. The creature was a massive skyscraper, taller than a hundred of me standing on each others’ shoulders, It’s hide was thick and multicolored hues of cream, beige, and pink, with odd membranes in fantastical colors of Red, blue, and yellow. It’s stench was horrifying, I could smell blood and offal, mixed with waste and sweat. As it lumbered forward, It's massive jaw the size of me opened and I saw a row of teeth with an impossibly large number of them. It spoke in a language that was foreign and completely incomprehensible, made of harsh tones and dissonant cracks, the sound of which dropped my very soul into my body, like I was swimming within the ocean and could see but for an instant the whole vastness of it, reminded that no matter who I was or became, I would be but insignificant in the face of such sublime majesty and horror. My Granndpa’s warning echoed on my mind as the words barely managed to sneak past my tongue.

“D-d-d-dragon.”

The Dragon's head swiveled and it’s goliathian eyeballs transfixed upon us below, for a moment time itself was frozen in fear, as we stared back into the Dragon’s eyes. The spell was once again broken when the Dragon opened its mouth and spoke again, looking back behind it. The very earth began to dance with the fervor of an intense spanish salsa dance, as three more Dragons erupted from the hole in the Construction. Suddenly finding strength in our legs the family and I ran with all our might, I heard a familiar scream as I looked back and saw uncle Jethro tripping again, I started to reach out to him, but the booming roars of the Dragon forced my body to leave him behind, as all thoughts but my own safety were evicted from my mind.

Hours later I found myself at the front door of our home, by the act of some merciful god I found myself safe, even though I had now seen the face of a god and knew that they were not merciful. I reached for the handle and remembered that the door was locked, my Mother had the key. So I waited, ten minutes, an hour, two hours, five, after waiting so long with no sign of my family my worries got worse and worse. Dread filled my heart as I knew the only way back home, the only way to be safe again, was to find my family, and the only place they could be, was the Dragon’s lair.

I began my march into hell, trying to muster what little courage I could find in my heart, taking minor solace in the fact that it would take me a little while till I got back to the park. However Father Time decided to conspire against me, as I blinked and found myself back at the familiar entrance to the park. The world was silent, the land a barren desert devoid of life as I scampered my way through the thick grass, crouching lowly to the earth and gruelingly inched forward like a worm through the mud, a fitting position for a being as lowly compared to the Dragons as me.The Construction stood sentinel with not a single crack or hole in it’s armor, and so I approached hoping to see if there was some smaller hole or pinprick to sneak into. With my back to the wall of the sentinel, the Construction once again morphed to accommodate the hole and one of the Dragons thundered outside, it’s legs hammered on the ground around me and through pure adrenalyn alone I forced myself to rush into the Construction.

As the hole closed behind me, I found myself as Alice within Wonderland. An Alien world unlike anything outside of what my small mind could comprehend. The ground itself was coated in a thick layer of navy blue grass, so thick that they pillowed the ground to create a spongy, thick texture. I’d imagine that if we could walk on clouds, that they would feel like this. The empty space of the Construction was massive, yet empty. It was as empty as a racist’s head, so massive that smaller Constructions were strewn throughout the land in all shapes and sizes, some small, barely even larger than me, others were massive in their own right, though they shared that same mathematical, geometric design. The sickly sweet smell of lemons overcrowded the air, making it near impossible to breathe. This new world was filled with sounds of a new variety the likes of which I never knew before. Whirrs and beeps and growls and squeaks and bangs and creaks and grinds and screams, a pure symphony of chaos and noise that drove all logical and internal thoughts away; leaving just one behind, finding my family.

As I crawled through the forest of navy blue grass I heard a booming roar as a new Dragon turned the corner. I thought after seeing the Dragons earlier, that nothing else could faze me, but the mind numbing terror would not end. This Dragon smelled horribly, of wet fur and rancid meat. It’s body covered in an ocean of thick yellowish fur, it’s body sleek and standing upon all fours, it boomed with a roar so mighty I felt my own bones rattle, it lifted it’s snout into the air and siffed once, twice, a third time, and it’s massive eyes whirled around to fix itself on me, it bared its teeth and I saw rows and rows of knives sharp enough to cleave me in twain. It boomed once more and charged towards me with supernatural speed, how could a monster so huge move so fast? I turned around ran with all my might, my heart pumping with so much force I felt it was trying to leap outside of my chest and get away from the Dragon faster. I hurtled through the forest leading to a new biome, a sea of pure brown that shone brightly like the sun, as my foot hit the ground I was stunned to discover this water was somehow...solid. Each step I took was echoed, and later it would occur to me that the creatures had somehow made this ocean out of wood. As the Dragon continued to gain on me, I took a chance and hurtled myself underneath a large chocolate brown Construction made from some substance that looked buttery but as soon as you touched it it felt solid. The Dragon continued to roar, frustrated at its inability to claim it’s prize.

I waited in the pitch black beneath the Construction, everything was silent here, so silent I could practically hear the blood racing through my veins. Suddenly my ears pricked up as the harsh requiems of the Dragon’s language marched through the air. They chattered on and on for what seemed like an eternity, once again it seemed like Father Time had decided to personally punish me cause no matter how much I begged the nightmare to end they wouldn’t stop. Then suddenly the entire world filled with light, for a moment my heart felt elated, the bright flash of light made me think for a moment that I had finally shed this mortal coil and ascended to the skies. But to my horror I saw that the truth was far crueler, the Dragon had lifted up the Construction like it was nothing. Before I even had a chance to react another Dragon scooped me off of the wooden sea and slowly brought me to it’s horrifying mouth. This was the end.

_____________________________________________________________________


“Aw Daddy, he’s so cute! Can we keep him?”
“No Jenna, put it out back with the others, we already got enough mouths to feed.”

And so Billy watched on as his daughter went into the backyard with the dog to let the little fieldmouse go home.

Hic Sunt Dracones, a first draft short story by Sam Pfau

 




    Grandpa Ted used to say: “ Little one, don’t you go looking for those Dragons. If they see you, they’ll eat you alive.” And in the fall of my teenage years, was the first time I set eyes upon them. It was a lazy snappy September morning, The howling winds a grim portent of what was to come. The gray skies hung low overhead like an overbearing tutor, ready to strike with a ruler in hand. I shuddered at the weather but tried to keep my hopes up, I wasn’t about to let a little lack of sunshine ruin our family picnic. Cousin Petunia came all the way from the Countryside and I’d be damned if that was gonna stop it. I packed the light lunch into the families plain beige Lunchbox, Twenty servings of bread, cheese, meat and other simple goodies for a classic day at the park.


    The whole family strolled down on the way to the park. The children were running all over, excited for a fun filled day of games, good food, and family. The fresh scent of apples clung to the air in stark denial of the sky, wrapping us in a warm hug of fall weather. The old bones of the trees creaked and listed with the wind like Grandpa Ted when he was sitting down in his chair near the front porch. The beautiful twilight years of nature settling in for winter. Uncle Jethro stumbled a bit in a tough mud patch, and I was chosen to help him steady his walking. I gagged on the thick scent of tobacco and lemon juice on his dirty old coat. His breathing was hoarse and ragged like the soft babbling of the brooks behind our home.

“Damn ankle, hey Jerry?”

“It’s Johnny Uncle Jethro.”

“Whatever you do Jerry, don’t get old like me.”

And with that sage advice, we marched on in silence.


    Nearly immediately I slammed face first into Aunt Gert’s enormous back, causing Uncle Jethro and I to tumble. Uncle Jethro angrily shouted: 

"Hey! Watch where you are going Jerry! And Gertie! Why are you just standing there like a brain dead cow!”

    However, Aunt Gert completed failed to nervous Uncle Jethro’s colorful musings. She was a statue, transfixed forward, with a look of pure horror on her face that would have left Medusa herself impressed. Completing this gallery of horrified statues were the rest of my family, spellbound in fear by something up ahead. Standing on my toes I peered over the mountain of Aunt Gert’s back and saw something I had never even considered before.


    Where the old park used to be had been completely decimated. The trees, beautiful little streams, fields of flowers and grass had been exchanged for a completely alien construction. It was huge. A thousand, no a million times bigger than the small burrow the eighteen of us lived in. Incomprehensibly vast that no matter how much I strained and stretched I could barely even see two sides of the construction. Unlike the simple comforting roundness of our homes, this construction was built with harsh cutting angles and mathematical precision. The whole side we were on was a thick blood red. I only ever saw blood once when my brother James broke his leg while falling out a tree, the bone was sticking straight out and that thick red juice pulsed out in a way that made it queasy just to look at a similar color years later. The sounds of birds and the crickets went deaf, an unnatural silence fell over what once was the park.


My father was the first to react, he shook himself out of his stupor and said:

“What the, what on earth happened her-”

    He was cut off by the most horrifying sound I had ever heard in my life. Raw squeaking and screaming noises as the construction morphed open to accommodate a massive hole in it. Suddenly, a creature I would see in my nightmares for years to come lurched out of the hole. The creature was a massive skyscraper, taller than a hundred of me standing on each others’ shoulders, It’s hide was thick and multicolored hues of cream, beige, and pink, with odd membranes in fantastical colors of Red, blue, and yellow. It’s stench was horrifying, I could smell blood and offal, mixed with waste and sweat. As it lumbered forward, It's massive jaw the size of me opened and I saw a row of teeth with an impossibly large number of them. It spoke in a language that was foreign and completely incomprehensible, made of harsh tones and dissonant cracks. The creatures head swiveled and it’s goliathian eyeballs transfixed upon us below, for a moment time itself was frozen in fear, as we stared back into the creature’s eyes. The spell was once again broken when the creature opened its mouth and spoke again, looking back behind it. The very earth began to dance with the fervor of an intense spanish salsa dance, as three more creatures erupted from the hole in the construction. Suddenly finding strength in our legs the family and I ran with all our might, I watched as Uncle Jethro fell once again but I had no choice but to leave him behind.


    Hours later I found myself at the front door of our home, by the act of some merciful god I found myself safe, even though I had now seen the face of a god and knew that they were not merciful. The door was locked. So I waited, ten minutes, an hour, two hours, five, after waiting so long with no sign of my family my worries got worse and worse. I suddenly recalled the scene from earlier in the day when my mother locked the door and put the key in her coat. Dread filled my heart as I knew the only way back home, the only way to be safe again, was to go back to the Dragon’s lair.


    I started to walk forward slowly, trying to muster what little courage I could find in my heart, however Father Time decided to conspire against me, as I blinked and found myself back at the familiar entrance to the Park. The world was silent, the land a barren desert devoid of light as I scampered my way through the thick grass, I crouched lowly to the earth and gruelingly inched forward like a worm through the mud, a fitting position for a being as lowly compared to the Dragons as me. I saw the Construction standing sentinel in front of me. The hole had been closed in the Construction, and so I approached I got closer, hoping to see if there was some smaller hole or pinprick to sneak into, suddenly the hole opened up again, and one of the Creatures thundered outside, it’s legs hammered on the ground around me and through pure adrenalyn alone I forced myself to rush into the Construction.


    As the hole closed behind me, I found myself as Alice within Wonderland. An Alien world unlike anything outside of what my small mind could comprehend. The ground itself was coated in a thick layer of navy blue grass, so thick that they pillowed the ground to create a spongy, thick texture. I’d imagine that if we could walk on clouds, that they would feel like this. The empty space of the Construction was massive, so massive in fact that smaller Constructions were strewn throughout the land in all shapes and sizes, some small, barely even larger than me, others were massive in their own right, though they shared that same mathematical, geometric design. The sickly sweet smell of lemons overcrowded the air, making it near impossible to breathe. This new world was filled with sounds of a new variety the likes of which I never knew before. Whirrs and beeps and growls and squeaks and bangs and creaks and grinds and screams, a pure symphony of chaos and noise that drove all logical and internal thoughts away; leaving just one behind, finding my family.


    As I crawled through the forest of navy blue grass I heard a booming roar as a new Creature turned the corner. I thought after seeing the Dragons earlier, that nothing else could faze me, but the mind numbing terror would not end. This Creature smelled horribly, of wet fur and rancid meat. It’s body covered in an ocean of thick yellowish fur, it’s body sleek and standing upon all four, it boomed with a roar so mighty I felt my own bones rattle, it lifted it’s snout into the air and siffed once, twice, a third time, and it’s massive eyes whirled around to fix itself on me, it bared its teeth and I saw rows and rows of knives sharp enough to cleave me in twain. It boomed once more and charged towards me with supernatural speed, how could a monster so huge move so fast? I turned around ran with all my might, my heart pumping with so much force I felt it was trying to leap outside of my chest and get away from the Creature faster. Taking a chance I hurtled myself underneath a large chocolate brown Construction made from some substance that looked buttery but as soon as you touched it it felt solid. The Creature continued to roar, frustrated at its inability to claim it’s prize.


    I waited in the pitch black beneath the Construction, everything was silent here, so Silent I could practically hear the blood racing through my veins. Suddenly my ears pricked up and I heard the harsh language of the Dragons. They chattered on and on for what seemed like an eternity, once again it seemed like Father Time had decided to personally punish me cause no matter how much I begged the nightmare to end they wouldn’t stop. Then suddenly the entire world filled with light, for a moment my heart felt elated, cause the bright flash of light made me think for a moment that I had finally shed this mortal coil and ascended to the skies. But to my horror I saw that the truth was far crueler, the Dragon had lifted up the Construction like it was nothing. Before I even had a chance to react another Dragon grabbed me off the ground and took me closer to its mouth. This was the end.