A place for horror or darker stories, mostly written for 'Screams!!!'
| Pocket Monsters
Later, no one would ever be able to pinpoint when they first appeared. One day they did not exist, and then suddenly they became an internet sensation. Demand went through the roof, and the prices skyrocketed. I mean, who wouldn't want one.
Eggs, they were. About the same size as those of an ostrich egg, but in all colors and patterns. 'Place them in your pocket and let them hatch. You'll soon be the proud owner of your very own pocket monster.'
Kids went wild for them. Not one wanted to be the only one in class without an egg sitting safely inside of their pockets. There were many harassed parents; kids don't seem to be able to understand the words: 'We can't afford it,' but more and more got to hear those exact words.
There were fistfights, and a sudden resurgence of picking pockets. Just one egg could make enough to buy a house. Honestly, it was like the world had gone mad. And of course with all the battles there were those that fell and smashed, leaving a gooey mess on pavements and floors, but eventually, as with all fads, things began to calm down.
That's the other thing about kids, they really don't like to wait. Some, perhaps not realizing their parents had taken out loans and second mortgages, took the eggs out of their pockets and forgot to put them back. They were never left sitting there for long before they made their way into another pocket where they could incubate. One pocket was just as good as any other.
And still there remained the mystery. They shone ever brighter, and the shells grew warm. They brought some welcome heat in the coldness of winter until they all began to simultaneously hatch. Every owner of a brand new pocket monster, brought them out into the air and inspected them. Small creatures, fluffy creatures, and at that time still sleepy creatures. But just like any other newborn, they soon became hungry.
The cries filled the ears and no one knew what to feed the little ones on. Hands went into pockets to offer some comfort, but the pain seared into agony and those hands swiftly withdrew. Some were stripped of flesh right down to the bone, while others were missing an entire finger or two. Needless to say, there was pandemonium!
Those pocket monsters were ousted, dumped and left where they fell, but it didn't matter any more. They had fed and grown strong. Strong enough to start roaming by themselves and finding their own shelter.
If you happen to be sitting there with open pockets, do yourself a favor and stitch them up tight. Otherwise you might find yourself with a squatter; one that has developed an insatiable appetite for blood.