Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1649787-Obliteration
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1649787
A horrific storm brings more than expected. Potentially expanding on this, not sure yet.
The rain started without warning.          

I reached my front door mere seconds before a powerful wind slammed it shut, silent underneath deafening claps of thunder. The windows rattled with the force, the roof creaked and iron drops of rain clattered against the tin roof. We were completely unprepared; hurricane season was months away- Mother Nature was pissed. Emanating from our small television came the barely audible droning of a weatherman, whose voice only just managed to evade the crackling static that threatened to encompass the screen.

“Fair weather my arse!” grumbled Uncle Angus, propelling himself out of his armchair and gesturing rudely at the screen before hurtling over to the door to assist me with the iron bolt. Typical middle-aged man I guess, yelling at inanimate objects.

“C’mon girl! Don’t just stand there! Go and get Eva, tell her its time!” His voice was almost inaudible over the cascading rain. On a normal day I would have protested, arguing against the order to even look at my sister, but the look on his normally cheerful face was so serious I immediately turned heel and ran to the stairs, leaving him to finish barricading the door. My footsteps matched cracking bolts of lightning, landing far too close, as I raced upstairs. The very foundations themselves shook as I stumbled up the last few steps before collapsing onto Eva’s door. The clattering of the rain on the roof was louder here, due to the closer proximity. It sounded like a million battering rams thudding against it repeatedly, feeling almost as though the roof would cave in with the pressure. I pounded upon her door, straining for her to hear me over the rain and the thumping beats of her stereo. In one last effort, I roared out.

“E! Open your goddamn door already! Uncle Angus says to tell you it’s time; he wants you down there now!”

With that Eva opened her door a millimetre and a slim peek of her blackened walls was visible, covered with photos and posters. Her face was white as fresh snow, her dark, kohl-lined eyes wide with fear.

“Is he sure? I'm not ready yet.” She bit her lip in uncertainty, twisting a single strand of her hair in her fingers; nervous habits of hers.

“How the hell should I know if he’s sure? He sounded bloody well sure, and I'm not willing to see what happens if you don't come down right now, so do not make me drag you!” My frustration level rose to a towering peak. This is why I refused to acknowledge her. Why the hell couldn’t she see she was wasting precious time? Every second was another lost. We needed to barricade ourselves. Uncle Angus was rarely serious, way too sarcastic for that, so on the rare occasions when he was, you sat up and paid attention.

“Look, I don't want to bother if it’s just another one of his stupid jokes so... couldn’t you just double-check for me?” The visible sliver of her face lit up, proud to have found a solution which would not require her to leave the confines of her tiny, safe room. Oh how her expressions annoyed me!

“Does this look like a joke? Can you not hear the raging thunderstorm threatening to rip us out of the ground as we speak? Seriously E, come downstairs. If not for me, do it for Uncle Angus.”

That seemed to wake her up a bit. She straightened, her eyes turning decisive with resolve. Unbolting all seven locks and chains holding her door closed, she took three dainty steps outside. Tentatively we made our way to the top of the stairs, Eva clutching at me to prevent herself from falling and me clutching at her to keep her from running back into the safety of her room. From the kitchen came a loud echoing crash, clear even over the din outside. I glanced at Eva, her face blank and whiter than ever before, her eyes blank as she stared down the stairs. Another crash resounded throughout the house, coupled with an ear-splitting cry of pain. I couldn’t stand idle a moment longer, dragging Eva as I leapt down the stairs, fearing the worst as we rounded the corner into the kitchen.

Two pairs of eyes scanned the devastation in the room. It appeared the shock had awakened Eva, her eyes now flickering left to right at an unthinkable speed. The scene before us was like that of graphic horror movies. To the left, beside the newly broken dishwasher were the remains of what appeared to be a large bird of sorts, burnt to a crisp. A silvery liquid pooled at our feet, rising steadily, threatening to engulf the charred remains. The aluminium fridge, once pristine and clean, a relic from our old house, was now slashed to bits, splinters of metal protruding out at jagged angles.

In the midst of it all an epic battle ensued. Uncle Angus stood on the counter, a defiant look on his face, warding off his opponent with a sharp knife from the drawer whilst muttering incoherently in another language. The creature he was skirmishing with was like nothing on this earth, an mystical and terrible being. This foreboding beast had the vague shape of a human, however as if distorted by a carnival mirror maze. Spidery wings jutted out of its back as it hovered at eye level to Uncle Angus, sharp teeth bared and talons raised. A gasp of horror escaped from Eva’s mouth, drawing the creature’s attention, its searing crimson eyes filled with hunger as it stared at her. My stomach turned and I gagged, picturing the creature feasting upon us. I stepped in front of her, protecting her by instinct, preparing for a confrontation.

The beast hissed at me, baring its fangs and craning its neck to get a further glimpse at Eva. I stared it down, trying desperately to project the ‘alpha attitude’ we had learnt about in the few years we had attended school, whilst on the inside thinking ‘oh shit, oh shit, oh SHIT!’ It lowered itself into a crouch, ready to pounce. I braced myself, getting ready for the worst, the thudding impact. Just as it leapt into the air, aiming to kill, Uncle Angus pierced it with the steak knife from behind. The creature’s face contorted with pain, its limbs seeming to shrivel, and suddenly without warning it combusted, leaving behind scorched remains in a cloud of silvery dust.

I stood in shock, gazing at the scene before me, still tense and fearful. What was once our kitchen was now blackened and empty. Everything was gone, destroyed. The marble counters were in shreds, the appliances dangling by their straining cords in pieces. The silver liquid that pooled around us had grown to a new height, thick steam now rising from it with a metallic odour. Coupled with the storm overhead, it honestly looked and sounded like a warzone. Eva seemed on the brink of fainting dead away, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy. Uncle Angus leant over the remains of the beast, muttered a few words and wiped his knife on a paisley dishcloth. He glanced over, appearing confused at our lack of movement.

“Well? Are you two gonna get a move on and help me clean up or are you just gonna stand there and continue to do nothing?  Jeez girls, close your mouths, you look like bloody fish.”
© Copyright 2010 stephanie.xx (stephxx at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1649787-Obliteration