It'll Be Alright.

Paint flaked off the ceiling and landed in my hair. I brushed them off. Again and again. Rinse and repeat.

“It’s alright , Paula,” I told the worn out plush in my hands and hugged it tighter to my chest. “We’ll be fine.”

The ground trembled. More flakes fell upon my head. Someone screamed in the distance. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face into my trusted friend.

But we’ve been through worse, through thick and thin. And we’ve always made it out alive and in one piece.

“It’ll all work out in the end.” I kept telling Paula and myself.

The screams got closer, more numerous. The ground shook. Squeezing into a corner, I curled up into a ball around Paula. I wanted to leave. But to go outside was just too risky.

“It’ll be fine.”

One by one, the screams stopped.

“We’ll be alright.”

It was getting quieter.

“It’ll all be over soon.”

The ground was still.

I raised my head. The screams had stopped. Aside from the plaster and flakes of paint on the floor, it was almost as if nothing had happened at all. Were we safe? Were we truly safe?

I picked myself up. Paula still clutched tight. Gingerly, I parted the curtains The streets were deserted. Buildings and vehicles were abandoned. And protruding from cracked concrete, right in the middle of the street, was one of those strange dark forms I had only ever seen on tv.

Tendrils spread out from the towering form, creeping and searching for prey. It was close. Too close. Numerous eyes that covered it’s bulbous head swiveled. They had spotted me.

I uttered the understatement of the century.

“Paula...I think we have a problem”


(288 words)