THEY ARE DEFINITELY going to shoot me. I can see it in their beady little soulless eyes. What happened to kids? I would love to play outside right now, not just live out here.
These “children,” and I use the term loosely, only want to make the world colder. They have no love in their hearts. Every death machine points at me!
I don’t even know these wee people. What is their problem?
That little demon has a good grip on my finger. I let out a breath and just give in to my sorrow. Once again, I will be at the mercy of idiots.
I wave the dog around on my finger.
“Well, go on, get it over with then." I say.
One of them has their head shaved, but their scalp seems techno-coloured. I not exactly sure, but they may be wearing fur of some kind. It is grey with darker fluffs. It looks fluffy.
‘Focus’, I scold myself in the deepest part of my mind, so they can’t hear.
The bald one makes direct eye contact. Crap, can they hear my thoughts?
They point the rifle right at me like an accusing finger.
“Wat dat?” She asks.
I wiggle the hellspawn on my finger.
“This?” I say, “Oh, it’s a gift.”
That’s pretty good. Sometimes I surprise even me.
“Dat for me?”
It is a girl. My God, that is a girl. I would never admit it out loud, but she terrifies me.
“Uh, yes. Of course. Yeah, it’s for you. It’s why I came here.”
She tilts her head to the side. No way is she buying any of this. These little hellraisers are going to shoot me. Am I going to survive that? I just don’t know. I have never been shot before, and I didn’t want to start now.
I gesture with the little demon; let’s call her Bitey.
“Please take her.” I tried not to sound like I was begging. It didn’t work.
She smiles and comes closer. All the other buggers raise their weapons and have them trained on me and the whites of my eyes.
I hold the snarling Gremlin out to her. She has no idea what she is getting into.
IT CHANGES
The little skin-walker becomes a whole different dog. The ball of fluff melts in her arms. It gives her kisses and wags her manipulative little tail. She gives her love and appreciation.
That is not the same devil dog! What happened?
The young girl coos over her. Making happy noises. Some others gather around her. Touching the little dog.
Her cold, dead eyes locks on mine. Deep dark windows into her soul. This suspiciously calm child has the eyes of a killer. She has done things for her survival—things I can never do.
It was very wrong to think of her as an innocent child. She is a leader, and it goes deeper than that. She is a monster pretending to be a little girl.
There is no doubt in my mind that if she thinks of me as a threat, she will find some way to hurt me and kill me, and it will hurt the whole time I’m dying.
I have to be extra careful now. These are not kids. These young people are forged by a hard, cold world, full of hate, pain, and war!
I’m just some guy who got nuked. I am a normal beige guy. I used to check my mail. I went to bed early.
There is nothing special about me. I am not ripped with muscle. I’m no action hero. I’m the guy who took the bus because I never bought a car.
I paid my taxes. I care about people. I wished you a happy birthday. I gave people presents they would actually use.
My beige life is now neon green.
“Nakara wants you to follow.”
I jump at the sound of the child’s voice, which rips me out of my thoughts. Looking up, I can see a boy holding a modified assault rifle of some kind.
He nods his head at me, and instinctively, I nod back.
Well, guess I’m not out of the woods yet. So here I am, snaking through the rubble with a band of savage children, possibly being led to my doom. At least my finger is free from the little Piranha Chihuahua.
Dread laced with sardonic wit, I loved the urgent writing that mirrors your character’s panic.