The Greens

I used one of the Soul Food Cafe’s story starter prompts as today’s Writing Challenge.

For this challenge I just sat down and wrote without stopping for twenty minutes. I liked the idea that popped up so much I might go back and clean it up for a Halloween story.

It’s based on  the SFC PROMPT: FLIES

 

Photo by Alex Andrews on Pexels.com

The name of the family that lived on Davenport Road before it abandoned and forgotten by the town and then the rest of the world was Green.

The Greens were a Father, a Mother and their four children.

Somebody at a Fourth of July picnic shared over the pie table  that Father Green may have served time in jail and Mother Green may have had something to do with the disappearance of her baby brother and two of the family dogs when she was a child but that was just talk.

Still- none of the Green Children looked like either one of their parents and all of them had the odd habit of always appearing at the corner of your eye- or you’d see them scuttling away from you and around a corner or through a doorway before you could ever really get a good look at them.

One less then charitable resident of Fletcher- which was the name of the town Davenport Road was part of- compared the way they Green Children scurried around as being rodent like.

Mrs. Parker who was helping at the picnic that day said under her breath to that observation, ” They scuttle around like bugs. Those children give me the willies.”

Everything started to go bad in Fletcher right after the 4th of July picnic- the houses got moldy, the plants and trees and the lawns either dried up and died or they simply rotted.

In addition to that unfortunate state of affairs,  six cats, four dogs, a horse and three children and two infants went missing, the corn caught some sort of blight and was wiped out before you could say, ” what the hell is eating at the crops?”

No one living in Fletcher had it in them to get angry or suspicious or to even pack up and run.

That’s because they simply stopped doing anything except for maybe blink when something hit their eye and some of them coughed when dust ( it was just dust, right?) drifted up into their noses and mouths.

They just stopped where they stood on the day the Sun turned blood red and so did the Moon.

Some of people- like the people at the Pie Table at the picnic were sitting at their kitchen tables or in their cars.  Some of Fletcher’s residents who had an inkling that something was going very wrong  were hiding in their attics or basements when they too, like everyone and everything else just stopped.

They could see a hear a little, some could see and what they saw where the Green Children- scuttling and scurrying, tasting and touching and eating everything and anyone who caught their eyes.

Some of the people, who patiently waited their turn for a visit from the Green Children wondered why they only ever saw four of those children- there were so many of them.

Hundreds of them.

 

 

Dream of The Headless Horseman

When I was a child

I believed in monsters- all of them- werewolves, vampires, The Creature From The Black Lagoon, The Invisible Man, Brains that lived in tanks and could fly around in the air trailing their brain stems behind them like kite tails.

I believed there were haunted castles, Graveyards where more then one unlucky soul was buried alive and I wanted for some odd reason to be The Headless Horseman even though I’d have to be headless.

At some point I must have justified that odd factoid- though I’m guessing it’s because I was never considered an attractive child or even a very smart one. So who needs a head if you are me, right?

Why not celebrate not needing an ugly useless head? I could Be something scary AND headless plus I’d get to ride a horse.

That was my take on the world before I was 7 years old.

It’s one thing to wrap our minds around this sort of darkness when we are adults.

Who wants to think, when we look down into the face of our children or grandchildren that there is a darkness there and that maybe, just maybe it is being held safe and quiet by the innocence of a child- until it is time for it to break free.

From The Soul Food Café Prompt:

Chocolate Box: Exploring the Brave New World of Childhood Innocence