Those Things

THOSE 'THINGS' By Jim Brooks

The fear is getting worse. It's uncontrollable. Uncomfortable. You just sit there frozen in your small, dark, room. It's cold. There is nothing to do but listen to the screams...and the noises of those things!

There is no way to help. How could you? You're the last one alive. The phone lines are down and they are all around the house. TOO many of them. They are bigger than you. Stronger than you.

So you sit there. Under your covers, in the closet, soundless. Wishing it to be over. Wishing for those things to leave. You start to tear up, but you hold it back. If you cry you'll make some noise. Then you hear it. Silence.

No more screaming, no more growls and blood curdling shrieks. It's over. Or so you think. You start to climb out and look towards the door. But that's when you feel it. The deep breathe on the back of your neck.