Friday Fiction: Harvest Festival (Part 2)

Chapters 3 to 6

“Welcome to Wales”

Here is Part 2. Find Part 1 here. Paid subscribers only, this time! Feel free to comment with your thoughts, or reply to my email if you’re enjoying (re)reading this novella.

As an aside, I did my third shift in the cinema last night. It won’t be long until I’m left in charge of the cinema unsupervised, so I’ll set up and show the film on my own, and do everything except sell popcorn (someone else does that - I am rubbish with tills).

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Harvest Festival

Chapter 3: Wheels

He got through the orchard with no more trouble. His knees were stiff from all the crouching down, but that didn’t matter. Only getting away mattered. Getting them all away from this madness, this nightmare taking place in the thin layer squished between blue Hell sky and hard ground.

As he approached the outbuildings he eyed the barn with distrust, remembering what had happened in there, and was surprised to realise it couldn’t have been much more than half an hour ago this all started. It felt like he’d lived a year since then.

The creepy blue light from the sky meant he could run without bumping into walls; it was enough to see by. The equivalent of a full moon night. The oil tank cast a large shadow. He had to assume his family were there. He couldn’t see anyone wedged into that gap between tank and wall, but that was a good thing.

Getting to the tank required a sprint across the open. The noises seemed further away. Hopefully they all teemed in one place. No strange lights, smells, hints of movement here. Couldn’t wait any longer. He dashed across the gap, not looking left or right, just aiming at the shelter. Safety.

Then again, those shadows were deep. He hoped it was safety he was running into, and not the twitching arms of something alien.

“Hello?” he whispered.

“Callum!” Cerys pulled him into the greater darkness, squeezed him fiercely. He was aware of light touches from the kids. “I thought …”

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“Maybe they’ve gone?” Maggie said, hopefully. “They’re quiet.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

They moved out in a line, Cerys insisted everyone held hands. She limped but told him it was only bruising. Callum led them away from the house, round the back of the barn, beyond the tool shed – out of sight of the worst places where the things might be watching from.