The Superior: part 1

October 5, 2008
By
Prologue:


Their landing on Earth felt sinister. It was on a pleasant Sunday, in an isolated countryside in the U.S. The farmers who saw them fall from the sky say the ship they came in was almost transparent. They obviously didn’t want to be spotted. The curious farmers that lived near crashed ship were afraid of the newcomers at first. Later on the farmers took a risk and greeted the strangers with sociability and smiles. Risks, why take risks? They never gave their name even though the citizens of Earth asked. Then about two days later, their landing got into the media. They were equivalent to us in many ways, we looked similar, acted similar. The only differences were that they were more intelligent. Everyone talked about the visitors: were they hostile, why did they come to Earth? We all assumed they were here just to explore different planets in the universe, that’s what they told us.
Later on, all of Earth accepted them. Some traveled back to their home (a bright colored planet which they called Regnad) and others stayed on Earth and became our neighbors. We still did not understand their language and why they colonized on Earth. The strangers introduced new technology, new government systems, and currently they have been installing a machine that injected you with a tonic that gave you the ability to exist for eternity. Some of Earth did not agree with the idea of living forever, but the strangers didn’t ask for their approval. They started the invention without us even knowing. When we found out about their intentions they told us they didn’t want to cause conflict between the Earthlings and themselves. Again all of us believed them. We fell into their trap, but we would attempt to escape.











Day 1: Strasbourg, France
12:12 pm


“Ca va, Général,” a common soldier asked his general, G. Rochelle. The General turned to him and wiped the droplets of sweat off his forehead for it was summer. He wore a troubled face.
“Ca va bien, merci,” replied the weary man. Last night the General’s men held off the fierce bâtards (the name the French called the strangers) in Metz. The French fought gallantly against the colossal army of the bâtards, but failed to prevail. They finished off the French by bringing shielded tanks (built out of an unknown metal) into the French forts. Luckily, General Rochelle and a few hundred of his reinforcements retreated to their vehicles and drove off to the safe haven of Strasbourg. The French stood no chance against the bâtards.
As the General
grieved over his dead soldiers, a thunderous gust of wind entered his room. The startled man, looked out his tiny window, it was an American aircraft.
“Général! It’s the Americans,” exclaimed a wounded soldier. The General ran out to welcome the group of three Americans. “Why do you come?” asked the surprised General.
“The real question is why aren’t you Metz? Weren’t your reinforcements supposed to be guarding the city,” The group of Americans looked shocked, “We have come to Strasbourg to speak to the president of France?”
“Well, uh,” the General was speechless, “they destroyed my army. We had to retreat.”
“Rochelle, that’s three defeats in of row for the French!”
“Well, how well is your army doing! We are the only ones fighting these bastards!” the General was fuming! His nostrils broadened.
“I think we need a new strategy,” the Americans were backing off a bit, frightened of Rochelle, but not wanting to show it. The French General cooled down and started discussing war strategy with the three Americans.
“Guerrilla warfare?”
“No, that would never work against these beasts. I fought against them, you can rarely run away.”
The hours passed rapidly. The men discussed issues in the war and they could not think of any strategy that would stand up against the strangers. Soon darkness fell upon them for it was nighttime. As the men pondered around the room, they tried to think up of ways to surprise attack the strangers. Suddenly a long piercing sound aired through the room.
“What the…” A bomb appeared in the sky.
“Get down!” screamed one the men as the bomb dropped on the American aircraft causing the General’s ears to ring. A few moments after the explosion one of the Americans looked outside the entrance to the camp.
“It’s them! They’ve followed you to Strasbourg, Rochelle. Rochelle?” The General couldn’t move. Looking at the devastating sight of the strangers charging at his army’s camp. He couldn’t handle the war. Everywhere he turned he saw them, those damn bastards! Then quickly the General reached for his pistol and placed it to his head.
“No General don’t…” It was too late, Rochelle dropped to the floor.

Day 2: Washington D.C, U.S.A
12:11 pm


The President of the United States of America, President Lofton, sat on his throne while all in his country suffered from the war. A knock on the door interrupted the President’s train of thought. “Come in, come in,” Lofton spoke.
“Sir, French reinforcements were defeated in the city the Metz,” spoke a noble guard of the President.
“I’m not surprised,” Lofton replied, “those French are no help in this war. Get me on the phone with the American representatives I sent to Strasbourg.”
“Um Sir, they were attacked a few hours after they arrived, and none survived, including all of the soldiers in the camp. Sir, we are in a war!” The guard spoke with despair and fear.
“Tell the Secretary of Defense, I want troops in all of the states. I don’t want France’s fate to be ours!” The President spoke with anger and determination. The guard ran out the room.



An average American sat in his office working on a way to build a better, more informative website for his company. His name was Patrick Newman and he was 32 years old. His job included working on websites and fixing computers. Patrick had a wife (Margaret Newman) and was expecting a child in a couple months. What am I going to call my child, he thought, if it’ a boy I’ll name him… maybe James. James was Patrick’s father’s name, who died a few years back from cancer. And if it’s a girl, Patrick thought again, my daughter’s name would be Jennifer.

“How are you Patrick?” Mr. Newman looked up. It was his supervisor, Mr. Russell.
“I didn’t see you there,” he replied
“Look, I’m letting everyone leave early today, you should really get home.”
“What’s wrong sir?”
“Well, I think it’s impossible to work during all this chaos with the strangers. Go spend time with your family.”
“Are you sure, I’m almost done with my work I can…”
“Go home, that’s an order,” Mr. Russell said with a grin. Patrick smiled back and gathered his belongings.

When Mr. Newman arrived at his home he searched his pockets for his house keys. When he finally grabbed them the front door opened swiftly. It was Margaret.
“Honey, I’m so glad you’re home!” she said as she threw her arms around him. Patrick gave her a kiss and entered his home filled with warmth.
“I just stopped listening to the news on the TV. They say the strangers are invading France!” she spoke with fear. That was why I got to leave work early Patrick thought.
“Honey,” Margaret saw that Patrick wouldn’t move.
“Don’t worry, everything will be all right, we will be alright.” He started to lose hope. Mr. Newman held his wife trying to squeeze all of her fear out. “It’s going be ok.” He assured her. Mrs. Newman must’ve not been listening because she started to weep.
“I can’t bring a child into a world like this Pat!” she screamed.
“I know, I know.”

The next hour Patrick walked slowly to his bedroom. Why did this happen! He ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. When he entered the room seeing that the TV was still on. He quickly reached for the remote and shut it off with great force. Patrick wanted to scream so loudly then his lungs would burst, but he knew it would scare his wife even more. Then, he got down on his knees and grasped his hands together. “Please God, please let my family live in harmony and become safe from those beasts that try to exterminate mankind! Let us live! Give me strength! Amen.”

Day 3: Bismarck, North Dakota
12:10 Pm


A group of five American soldiers were practicing their shot while others filled up with ammo getting ready for the near battle. All the soldiers were in a ratty black barn, which they used for a hideout. The soldiers were involved in the International Armed Forces: I.A.F. Suddenly the Sergeant approached the group. His name was Sgt. Ball. “Men, I have just been told our new mission. We have to break out from our pack and sneak into the enemy’s hideout, which our radar picked up. We must find out what their strategy is. Get ready, were leaving in five minutes.” Sgt. ordered.
“You heard him, get moving!” shouted the leader of the group.

Their path was rough with guards everywhere they turned. Luckily, they managed to sneak by them. All the soldiers thought about were how they were going to get in such a highly secured hideout. Even Sgt. worried, but nobody questioned it. “Keep moving men, were almost there.”

The first sight of their fort came from the leader the group, a soldier by the name Jessie Schmitt. He had a long black beard because the troops haven’t shaved for a century, or at least it seemed like that long. A minute for a soldier during this war was as long as a day.
“There it is!” Jessie screamed and spotted a torn home.
“Shut the hell up! Want them to hear us,” Ball spoke softly, “Get behind that piece of wood.” The Sgt. pointed at some mossy wood that was detached form the hideout. The group shuffled their feet to cover.
“The place is swarming with them.” Jessie was unsure about surviving through this mission. Ball looked around for hope. Then the light bulb lit up.
“There, let’s climb up that tree and get on the roof. That’s our only choice.”
The men quickly jumped on the tree and started climbing. One of the soldiers nervously climbed. Then he snapped a branch that he was reaching for. The guards noticed and attentively searched the area.
“Quickly! Quickly climb,” Ball ordered. The guards were too late for as soon as they checked the tree the soldiers were already on the roof.

The group sighed in relief. All of their muscles ached and hearts pounding, but the Sgt. was too driven to complete his mission then take a breather. The Sgt. moved gently searching for a hole in the roof. It didn’t take long to find one because the roof was so torn that there were many spots he could look inside the hideout. He lied down and put his eye to the medium-sized hole. He saw ten, ten beasts talking among themselves in their own foreign language. The Sgt. sweated nervously, any moment they could spot him. He looked around the room. He saw a bunch of papers and then froze because of what he saw next. It was a machine, a machine that looked very similar to the machine that gave you an eternity of life.

Then he saw enemy soldiers, in a line, waiting to use the machine, giving them invulnerability. That was why the Earth never won a battle, that’s why they controlled France. The army of strangers was indestructible. Nothing stood up to the ability of invulnerability! The only way to beat the bastards was to destroy their machines of life, the Sgt. thought. Then, Ball quickly reached for a grenade.
Then he cooked the grenade and chucked it as hard as he could at the machine. “Die you demons!” The strangers spotted it too late. The whole house blew up into chunks of wood and stone. The Americans flew like birds off the roof onto the cold, dirt ground. Three out of the six soldiers lay wounded.
“You with me, Jessie,” asked the Sgt.
“Yes sir,” Jessie replied weakly. Ball smirked he always knew that boy was strong. Both of them got up and carried off the wounded to their safe barn. Sergeant Ball wore grin all the way to the barn because he knew the strangers’ secret.

Day 4: London, England
12:09PM


The British Prime Minister, Corey Neville, looked out his limousine window watching the people of his nation. Some citizens were looting, taking advantage of the war, and everyone looking as if death had come upon them. “This is what war does to you,” Mr. Neville told his son William, who was 7 years old.
“Daddy,” William asked.
“Yes?”
“Where are we going?”
“We are meeting with the American Secretary of Defense for lunch,” Mr. Neville replied.
“That Secretary man sounds smart.”
“Let’s hope he is.”

When the Prime Minister and his son arrived at the elegant restaurant they were seated at a table. Then a few moments later the Secretary of Defense, Mr. McDonald entered the restaurant. “Mr. McDonald, over here,” Mr. Neville called out to the man.
Mr. McDonald heard the voice and spotted the Prime Minister.
“How are you Corey,” McDonald asked.
“Fine, fine, how is America.” Neville didn’t know much about how other nations were working.
“Well, mostly, not so good. Our reinforcements are thinning and we’ve lost all the battles. We have discovered something about their army though. A Sgt. from our army discovered it.”
“What, what is it?” Neville was very curious.
“Do you remember that invention that gave the ability to live forever?”
“Yes, yes what have you discovered?”
“The enemy soldiers are using that machine, causing them to be indestructible!”

Mr. Neville froze. His eyes bulged and his hairs and the back of his neck sticking up to the sky.
“Daddy, are you ok Daddy,” William looked frightened by the sight of his father. Then finally Neville spoke, “It will be impossible to track down all their machines.” At that moment everybody in the restaurant paused as if they were all listening on to the confidential conversation. Mr. McDonald seemed to notice so he whispered to Neville, “Let’s find a more private place.” Then the group left into Neville’s limo.

The limousine was very spacious and included a bar and television. It also cost a fortune. “So, Mr. McDonald what you’re telling me is that their army is invulnerable,” Neville’s voice was crisp.
“Precisely. Also I was meant to tell you that we have received a video message from the dictator of the strangers. He wants a peaceful and friendly conference with you. Just one on one.”
“Think it’s a trap?” Mr. Neville twiddled his thumbs nervously.
“Most likely not, but we their be security just to make sure they don’t try anything stupid. This may be our only chance to ask for peace with the strangers,” McDonald spoke with confidence, “The conference will be in two days at 12:00 pm.” He thought this meeting would turn into a positive outcome.


Day 5: Washington D.C, U.S.A
12:08 Pm


Patrick Newman crawled through the gray wasteland .He carried sacks filled with food from the farm. His back ached from all the whippings he encountered and the plentiful harvest. He looked around, wiping sweat off his forehead. When he finally arrived at his home he noticed his wife was missing. Patrick was confused because she told him she would home by the time he would come back from the fields. He tried calling for her but his voice was absent. He felt his throat, his skin felt like sand paper. Then he searched his small, cold home. She wasn’t in any room, not even outside on the lawn. He ran outside and searched for his master to ask about his wife. His master was probably at home. Patrick’s feet moved fast even though he stuffed blisters burned like hot coal.

It took about ten minutes for Mr. Newman to reach his master’s home, but before he knocked on the metallic door, he saw a horrifying sight. He saw his wife, awaiting her death. She was stood standing on the platform, waiting to be hung. Patrick tried to protest, “No! Don’t, I love her,” but those weren’t the words that came out of his mouth. In fact there were no words at all, only groans. Patrick lost his ability to speak and was about to witness his wife die. He threw his fists in the air and ran to his wife. Within 10 feet of rescuing her, a guard stepped in his way and denied him of passing. The guard grabbed Patrick who tried to push away from the colossal arms. Through the struggle, somehow another guard nearby seemed to tranquilize Mr. Newman. Immediately, he became dazed and fell to his side. The last few moments of his consciousness he watched his wife’s head get placed inside the ropes’ hole and the lever being pushed down. The audience laughed. Then darkness overcame Patrick.

As soon as Patrick’s dream ended, he awoke with a burst energy. His pajamas were soaked with sweat. He checked his alarm clock on the nightstand.
12:08! Mr. Newman almost ran out of his bed to go to work, but then remembered today was a Saturday. Then, he laid his head onto his pillow. He saw that his wife was sleeping beside him.
“Honey, you awake,” Patrick asked, also realizing he could speak, “Marge, you with me?” He shook her slightly. Then Margaret groaned and sat up.
“Pat, what time is it,” her voice was small.
“About 12:00 we overslept. How’s our baby?”
“Seems alright. Hey, you want breakfast, or lunch?” Margaret attempted to get out of bed.
“Just coffee, thanks.”
“Ok.” Patrick kissed his wife and ran his hand through her hair.

As Mr. Newman drank his cup of coffee, he thought of the dream. “What did it mean,” Patrick questioned himself.
“What are you talking about Pat,” Margaret looked confused.
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Oh, do you want milk with your coffee?”
“No thanks.”

More and more images of the horrific dream came back into his mind. He couldn’t handle the idea of his wife dead. Patrick almost cried thinking about it. Patrick was still unsure about the meaning of the dream or if it even had a meaning at all. Then, he looked into the kitchen, and saw his wife. Margaret noticed he was looking at herself and smiled. Patrick smiled back and entered his bedroom.

Mr. Newman took off his pajamas and put on some casual clothing. Then a thought popped into his head: what was he going to do today? He thought of options, watching TV, sleeping, working, or maybe… taking my wife somewhere. That sounds good, Marge and me will go out to a fancy restaurant. I’ll go ask her now Patrick thought. Mr. Newman walked into the kitchen to talk to his wife, but she wasn’t there.
“No, not this again, she’s got to be here,” Patrick told himself anxiously. He searched the house to find out that she was gone. Then Patrick, filled with paranoia, ran out the front door and screamed her name, “Margaret!”
“Yes?” Patrick quickly turned to his side. She was just emptying the garbage right beside him. Then he ran to her and hugged her tightly, “I love you so much!”
“I love you too dear, but why are you acting so strange lately?” Margaret placed her hand on his forehead. “No fever. Tell me what’s wrong.” Then, Patrick led Marge into the kitchen and sat her down.

He told her everything about his dream. When he was finished Patrick noticed Marge looked concerned.
“Honey, that’s just a dream not reality,” She wrapped her arms around him like a mother would do to her frightened youthful son, “I’m right here.”
“I was going to ask you something,” Patrick said.
“What?”
“Well, would you like to go out with me? We haven’t had a date in some time.”
“Depends, where would we go,” Marge asked with a smile. Patrick smiled back.

The next thing that Patrick did was getting in the shower. He wanted to look great and smell great tonight. His wife and himself were going to an Italian restaurant called, Bellezza. As he jumped out of the shower he noticed Margaret entered the room. “Honey, have we ever gone to Bellezza,” Patrick asked.
“Hmmm, I don’t think so. I hope it’s as good as our usual places.” Margaret sprayed herself with a unique fragrance.
“Always good to try new things.”
“Oh yeah Pat. I have a doctor’s appointment in two days. Are you going to come?”
“Of course babe.”
“I think we might find out if it’s a boy or girl.” Margaret skimmed her wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit. “What would you prefer, a daughter or a son?”
“I will be glad either way. To think, I’m going to be a dad and you, a mom.” Both of them smiled. Then Marge shoved two dresses into Patrick’s face.
“Red, or blue,” Mrs. Newman asked.
“Both look good on you,” Patrick replied. Margaret smiled.
“You’re just saying that to get out of the question, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Patrick smirked.
“Pat!” she said giving him a playful shove.
“Just kidding. Wow, I never knew pregnant women could be so violent.” Again, Patrick got another playful shove. Both of them smiled.

Their dinner turned out to be what they expected. Satisfactory food. It was good enough to not ruin the evening. Even the bill wasn’t that bad. When they finished their meal they entered their car and listened to some romantic music. When Patrick was driving in traffic he came up with a great idea. We could drive up to Viewers Point (a rest area where guests look up into the sky using telescopes) and gaze at the stars.

When they arrived at Viewers Point, they saw that nobody was there, perfect Patrick thought. Both walked up to a scope and looked at a beauty of life, space. Patrick then took out a handkerchief and wiped the lens. Then stared at a cluster of stars. They were surprisingly bright with a silver radiance. Minutes passed with silence. Then, Margaret finally spoke.
“Pat, the stars tonight are marvelous,” Margaret exclaimed. Patrick took a good look at his wife. Her eyes had a blue glimmer and her hair was like blossoms of roses and the red dress looked so sexy on her.
“So are you,” Patrick replied. That statement put the cherry on the evening.
“Honey, you’re a good talker…” Marge grinned.
Then Patrick reached to her lips and entered her soul.



Day 6: Florence, Italy
12:07 PM

In the city of Florence, Italian soldiers protected the streets and citizens. A majority of the soldiers were men and occasionally you would a see a woman. Most of them were weak and didn’t eat or sleep often. The expressions on their faces told a story of misery and hell. Lately, the soldiers haven’t seen much action.
A fatigued soldier entered the street his brother (Vincent) was securing.
“Ciao Vincent.”
“Oh, hello Marco,” Vincent replied, “How is your family?”
“I do not know. I haven’t seen them since Christmas.”
“You’ll see them soon, don’t worry.” Vincent put his hand on his brother’s shoulder trying to cheer him.
“She’s not any better Vincent, my wife Maria is still roughly sick. I got a letter from her a few days ago. She won’t go to the doctor because she thinks it’s just a mere cold. I am afraid of what might come of her sickness Vincent,” Marco spoke with gloom. There was a pause of silence.
“How about Sophia and Anthony, how are your children?”
“I suppose their doing well because Sophia’s birthday was yesterday.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. How old is she,” Vincent asked.
“She is seven and Anthony is thirteen. Soon he will be a man.” Finally Marco smiled.
“Good for Anthony, good for Sophia.” Both men walked on.





A petite widow by the name of Maria stood in her garden. Her husband was involved in the war. Maria looked at her tulips, roses, and daffodils. She didn’t detect any beauty in them. Beauty was almost absent in Maria’s life. I have Anthony and Sophia they are beautiful, she thought. Sweat ran down Maria’s forehead. She had been sick lately. Maria then walked into the kitchen and sat down. It was very humid outside and that only made Maria’s sickness worse.

Later, Anthony’s and Sophia’s school bus drove up to Maria’s one-floor house. Maria heard the bus’s engine rumble and paced outside. She then saw Sophia’s head pop out of the door then came Anthony.
“Mama,” screamed Sophia as she ran to her mother and hugged her tightly. Anthony then walked over to Maria and also gave a warm hug. Then, the three went inside their home.

When dinnertime came the children sat at the round dining table. Maria grabbed a dish piled with fish and placed it on the table. Anthony and Sophia wore big smiles on their faces and licked their lips. Anthony was the first one to grab the food as he lunged out his hands.
“No, Anthony. First, we say grace,” scolded Maria, but her face was gentle and lacked energy.

After their dinner, the kids went straight to their rooms. Both scurried into their beds. Anthony turned his lamp off, but Sophia’s lamp was still alit. Sophia snuggled in her bed. Before weary Maria reached her bed Sophia cried out, “Mommy!”
“Yes my little flower,” replied Maria.
“Can you tuck me in?”

Maria slightly smiled. Then she reached over to her daughter’s bed and gently tucked Sophia in.
“There you go.” Maria walked away.
“Wait, Mommy,” called Sophia. The mother walked back to her daughter.
“When’s daddy coming home,” questioned Sophia. There was a pause of stillness. “I miss him.” Sophia was almost crying.
“I know, we all do,” Maria came close and kissed her little Sophia.
“Now go to bed. You have school tomorrow.” Sophia groaned.

Maria walked back to her room. She felt cold and dizzy. As soon as she hit the pillow she fell into a deep slumber.



Day 7: Washington D.c, U.S.A
12:08 Pm


Patrick Newman worked his daily morning routine. He grabbed his coffee and turned on the TV. He sunk into his armchair and sat for a few moments, at least until he finished his morning fuel. Then, he stood up with all his might and jumped into the shower. The day was Monday and Patrick was in for another full week of work. Surprisingly his job started at 1:30 pm, but unfortunately ended at 11:00pm or even later.
“Hey Mag, where are my socks?”
“Their stuffed in your drawer just like the rest of your clothes,” Margaret smirked.
“Ha ha, very funny.”

On the way to his office Pat saw a soldier looking over the area. And then he saw another, and another. Pat, filled with anxiety, pulled over his car and went over to the soldier.
“What’s going on,” Mr. Newman questioned the man.
“I’m sorry sir but I can’t give out that information. Now I’m going to ask you to move…”
“I demand to know what is going on, tell me!”
“Move sir, I have no information to give at this time,” the soldier spoke with force, pushing along Mr. Newman. He entered back into his car. He was just about clueless as most of the civilians walking the streets. All of the secrecy, walking the streets about the aliens. So much secrecy, one must want to discover the secrets. All of them, just moving on through their life without a hint or a bit of knowledge of what had been going on in the outside world. They were zombies of their own kind, thinking they understood everything going on. But, Patrick couldn’t handle being a zombie; he yearned for information and yearned for the events that affect his life, the lives of his family, the lives of the population of the world! Yes, Patrick was curious but curiosity did indeed kill the cat.


The President of the U.S.A pondered around inside the oval office, filled with anxiety.
“Sir, we have now installed a massive amount of troops in the states,” spoke General Dire, a well-respected man. He spoke with confidence, shaking his fingers awaiting the respond.
“Good, instead a of planting troops in that damned wasteland in the middle east, were putting them here in our own homes, great. Good news General.” President Lofton smirked through the window as if he was joking to all of America.
“Also sir, they haven’t been attacking lately so we believe we should try to get inside of their system and try to find their leader.”
“Yes, yes and then we would try to use diplomacy and you all think their leader would listen?”
“No sir.”
“Of course they won’t. Their savages, can’t you get that through your damn head? Out of nowhere they burn Strasbourg to the ground in a mere eight hours. Eight hours, did you know there was a whole fleet of French soldiers that just got pummeled”?
“B.b.b…” the General was speechless in terror and the fact that the whole world was losing control from some outsiders horrified him even more.
“They are indestructible savages. Even when we put out an attack on them none die, none get hurt. Diplomacy,” Lofton chuckled, “the day diplomacy will work is the day… they day …” General Dire had already left the room, not even trying to argue.
“Look at me, just waiting, just standing here and waiting.”



As soon as Mr. Newman came home from his tiresome day of work he tugged off his socks and stumbled upon the couch.
“You home Pat,” questioned Margaret.
“Yeah it’s me.”
“How was your day?”
“Same as everyday, wonderful!” Pat chuckled. Margaret stepped into the kitchen and put dinner on the table. Pat then obediently followed the aroma. There was roasted chicken with a side of mashed potatoes, his favorite. Then, the couple held hands.
“God is great, god is good, let us thank him for our food and thank him for the care of my beloved wife and soon to be child. Amen.”
“Amen,” Margaret responded.

Most of the meal was surprisingly silent. Patrick ate moderately and so did his wife. There wasn’t much to speak about. But then Patrick did break the silence with a simple question, “Honey, do we have any gravy?”
“I believe so check the cupboards.” So Pat checked the wooden cupboards.
“Nope none.”
“Well then it’s in the pantry, the one in the basement.”
“Oh, ok thanks hun.” Patrick crept down the basement stairs closing the door behind him. He walked through searching for the pantry. The room felt cold especially when Patrick’s sore feet touched the cold floor. The room was definitely colder than usual.
“Ah, there you are.” He grabbed the can that read, “Campbell’s Turkey Gravy”. Before Patrick drawled back to the kitchen, the floor began to shake and the ceiling began to wake. The paint began to peel and the walls caved in. Then in a brink of pure light, a thunderous roar pounded the earth. The earth fell into darkness.





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WB_Seussluverx3 said...
Oct. 6, 2008 at 9:28 pm
finish it! =]
 
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