The Shack.

I’ve spent many a day’s pent up in this shell, this place I call my home. A shack outside, like a tin can with uneven walls, division between them we have a house. It’s not much, but in the old shearers shed is where I ended up, turning into something much more than what the naked eyes can see.

Still, it’s a shack, but it’s grown on me, my family born and bred country folk, it’s a hit and miss catch twenty-two position, my dad passed when I just two years old, and my poor mother passed when I was barely twenty-one. They both loved me so, my mother more than some, being an only child and on the eve of my mother’s passing I’d inherited this shack, this tin can that I’ve called my home for so many years.
I never was a man that needed many things, I am a simple man that enjoyed the peaceful slumbers of acreage, space and the tranquillity, but one night around 7 o’ clock, deep in thought beside the open fire and the sweet sounds of crickets, a rustling voice called against the wind.

In the blink of his eyes, his feet stood to meet with the hardened ground and out I was with rifle in hand.

‘Those pesky rabbits again’ I think to myself.

But once I’m at the door looking out into the darkness, my eyes spot an unfamiliar object out beside the rivers bed, everything is silent, even the crickets have stopped making noise.

So with my rifle in one hand, my slithered on boots and a torch in the other hand, I set out to make my way down to investigate.
I have tender thoughts of my mother, thinking about what she would be saying right now,

“Gary, now you be careful, you take good care of yourself”. Her dry voice rang through his ears; it was like she was right there with me.

Now, getting closer to the river bank, there appeared to be an egg shaped transportation device, bigger than a normal sized car, it was bright pink and had funny hexagon lights that flashed simultaneously.

Not too sure what was standing in front of me, sweat dripping nervously from my forehead and the gun in my hand seemed to be slowly melting. Dropping it to the ground and in shear disbelief at what had just happened, I then look up and startled by the strange being that stands before me, merely metres from where I’m currently standing.

I’m trying not to show how bloody scared I am, my short stubby body and big boned stature was freaking out, and knowing how my body would probably react to those stubbies being slugged back not too long ago, along with the four hot dogs that I’d put away, something was bound to happen.

In the dead and darkness of night, standing face to face at what appeared to be an old lady with snake like features, my stomach muscles squished and sloshed around, grumbling noises beginning to rattle, trying to squeeze my butt cheeks to keep from exploding.

The telepathic thought crossed my mind, making eye contact with the old snake lady, her beady yellow eyes stared at me, she sent calm visions to me and I felt at peace.
As I stood there feeling like a complete nutcase, knowing at any minute I was going to wake up from a strange dream only to be annoyed at not finishing my dream. Then low and behold my skin started to do strange things, my tongue became a slithering snake like mess, my skin crawled and in minutes of uncomforting pain, I too was a snake like creature.

I was screaming, but nothing seemed normal, my voice was inside my head, nothing seemed to pass my wrinkly lips.

Then in the awakening of my fate, I heard the sound of redemption taking place, ’PHWEEEERP!’, followed with an unearthly stench.

I’d let my body function take over.

Everything was starting to become a blur, but that old lady, her strange telepathic voice, it became clearer, it was my mum.

“Now sonny, how’s my shack?”, she didn’t care about much, but that shack was her legacy.

Trying to make sense of things, the snake like images, the egg shapes vessel, but before I was able to say or do or even ask anything, my own voice shut down.
The egg shapes vessel had boarded me and without a single clue at how I got into it, the last thing I remember was the dark glowing image of that shack, it was in flames.

The Shack.

Writers-Block

Joined May 2012

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An original epic.

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