A Day in the Cornfield
by Glenn Gray
One day, Karl and Stew discover strange “turd”-like things appearing in their cornfield. The things have a strange power of mimicry, and their intentions are far from clear. Karl and Stew elicit the help of Sheriff Maynard and his daughter Roxy. Consternation ensues, and the once quiet farm becomes the epicenter of national attention.
The fake Roxy stared forward, eyes blank, expressionless as if nothing had happened, a dark blossom widening across her chest, staining the front of her uniform. She tilted her head, evaluated the odd discoloration, then backed up and subsequently crumpled to the floor as if she were a puppet, strings cut.
The real Roxy, Karl and Stew threw glances over to Sheriff Maynard, who had his arm outstretched and locked, tense, fist crushing his pistol, a surprised look on his face. He had shot the fake Roxy thing.
“Holy Martian turds,” Stew said.
“Beaut of a shot, Sheriff,” Karl said.
“Thanks, Pa,” Roxy said, clearly relieved.
Sheriff awkwardly holstered his gun, let out a lungful of air as if he were about to explode should he hold it a moment longer.
The fake Roxy thing twisted spasmodically on the ground, arms and legs dancing grotesquely, its features vibrating and blurring. The clothes disintegrated, turned black, absorbing into blackened skin. The mass started to liquify, beads trickling on its surface. It slowly melted, oozing into a viscous dark liquid which instantaneously coalesced into a blob turd thing.
The turd thing sagged heavily on the ground, shining, looking just as it had before Roxy fired a slug into it.
“Wow! See that?” Karl said.
“Dang,” Stew said. “Dang, dang, diggity dang.”
“This is reeeeaal strange like,” Roxy said.
“Told ya,” Sheriff said, looking around again, over his shoulder, up into the sky. “We gonna need some help.”
Karl flapped his arms, “Hey!” he said. “Feel that?”
All eyes shot to the ground. Bodies motionless.
The dirt and corn trembled slightly, like a baby earthquake.
“Quake!” Stew yelled.
“Hold it,” Roxy said, she had her arms spread back, palms on Karl’s and Stew’s shoulders.
There were strange slurping sounds and then the blob thing that a minute before was the fake Roxy thing was promptly sucked into the ground.
Then, the other blob things were quickly sucked into the earth, one by one. SCHLUUP. SCHLUUP. SCHLUUP.
The ground shook some more.
Harder and harder.
Stew said, “Run!” as several fissures split open in the ground, earth separating, gaping holes, one right next to the Sheriff who fell over onto his butt.
Another cracked opened between Roxy’s feet and a gooey octopus of black gelatin spewed up and engulfed Roxy’s legs, latching on, grabbing, tugging downward.
Roxy’s hand scrambled for her gun, off balance, but it all happened too fast, the gel encasing her entire body and before she knew it, she was sucked into the ground too.
And then it was quiet again.
To be continued...
Copyright © 2009 by Glenn Gray