SnipsAndSnails#7

 

An original thumbnail sketch when I was
plotting out one of the below scenes
Yeah, I know, stick with writing.

Did you know that the early Romans considered Saturday or “sun’s day” the first day of the week?  Neither did I until I looked it up on wiki, but that’s not the point.  What I’m getting at is what better way to start your week (okay weekend) than a fresh batch of Science Fiction Fantasy Saturday snippets (say that five times fast) provided by the talented pool of authors and writers over at SciFiFanSat.blogspot.com.  Oh yeah, I submitted one too.  For the past several weeks, I’ve been sharing pieces from Snips and Snails, a short story about a boy and his closet monster and the strange relationship they’ve formed.  I left off last week with the creature trying to sneak attack the boy in bed only to find a pillow stuffed under the covers before being pelted by something in the head. We pick up from there.  Enjoy and leave a comment or two if you’d like.  They are always appreciated!

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          Covered in a veritable rainbow of colors, the creature spun to face the wide eyed boy still pointing the paint ball gun at him from behind the cover of a wooden toy chest.

          “Are you the Booger-man?”

          That was the first of many nights, as images flooded back to the creature longingly watching a batch of clouds wash across the star scattered sky. 

          His eyes were still recovering from the laser pointer incident and he had trouble focusing on the puncture marks on his hands from the bear trap under the bed fiasco.

          He swore he’d never leave a child behind that hadn’t been taught the principles of fear, the very core of his existence.

          Brushing his hand over his scalp, a small scrap of paper flaked onto his nose, a leftover from the toilet tissue and shaving cream dousing from last week.

          Learning how to fear was intrinsic to a human’s survival and he remained bound to that duty.

          He sighed and took in a deep breath, the smell of burned hair and lighter fluid still lingered, mixed with the remnants of something the bloodling referred to as an oven made by the Dutch.

          One mistake and he would be exiled to purgatory forever.

          Running his claws down the glass, the creature formed a fist against the pane and re-asserted under his breath, “Failure is not an option.” ______________________________________________________________________________

          Thanks again!  Have a great weekend and don’t forget to check out all the great writing snippets over at SciFiFanSat.blogspot.com.