They come out in the fall. That’s their season, and that’s when they’re dangerous. It’s when they can blend in. You could see a hundred and you wouldn’t think anything of it.

You’re not really looking for them after all. They’re looking for you though. They won’t attack if there are others around.

They don’t like witnesses.

They wait until you’re all alone, on a windy autumn day, or even worse at night. That’s when they strike. I only saw them by accident, and only the once. Once is enough.

They attack in a swarm, staying low, clinging to the ground, then they pounce. A hundred tiny mouths and thousands of hideously sharp claws are all over you in the span of a heartbeat. They gnash and tear at you, and when you try to scream…well…they don’t let you scream. They…it’s fucking awful. They clog up your throat. Then they get to work.

It doesn’t take a minute. They shred you into inch long strips of human bacon and each of them takes off with their own little share of the kill. They’re too smart to leave bones or clothes behind either. I had to move away. You should too. Somewhere South, far South, like on the equator. They can’t hide down there. No trees loose their leaves in autumn there.

Heck, sometimes I think this whole global warming thing might be a blessing in disguise. If we’re lucky, it’ll push the temperate zone further North and and then they can live on grolar bears and caribou and I can move back to the states. If you don’t leave, then at least be careful. In the fall especially. Always travel in a group, and if you must go somewhere by yourself, look out for ‘leaves’ that skitter over the ground when the wind should really blow it away.

This entry was posted in Short Story and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Skittering

  1. Sientir says:

    This is a strange, short one, and it reminds me somewhat of the Doctor Who episodes that take place in that library, with the dust things that eat people.

    Hungry leaves are pretty scary, though.

    “If we’re lucky, it’ll push the temperate zone further North and and then they can live on grolar bears and caribou and I can move back to the states.”

    The doubled up “and” in the middle of that sentence actually could’ve worked pretty well with an ellipsis. Also, I have no idea what exactly a “grolar” bear is, but I imagine it is something like a polar bear? Or a grizzly, maybe a mix of the two? 😉

    Anyway, I don’t have many thoughts on this. It does a good job of being sufficient, more of a light snack of a story.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s