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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #2246858
An age old tale of man against machine.
I eyeballed the grotesque creature and inched my way around the corner of the garage. It sat there, so innocent, but I knew its true nature.

It would jump out at me at any second. I knew this from previous experience. Scanning the shelves for a weapon, I silently assessed my options. I could strangle it with the blow-up pool my kid brother used every summer. I glanced at my foe. No, its sharp metal bits would easily defeat such an attack. The box of Christmas lights caught my attention but I dismissed them immediately. Dad would kill me if I messed with his ability to compete with the Jones’ elaborate house display in winter. My eyes flickered over dad’s workbench and landed on the hammer and nails. A light bulb flashed in my mind. If I could get my hands on just one nail, I could stab the creature to death.

Inching down to my hands and knees I crawled toward my adversary, nail in hand. The hunter had become the hunted! I bit back an evil chuckle and crept forward.

“Ouch!” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I glared down at the stone that jabbed my knee. I wondered how it had appeared in the garage and then it hit me. It was a trap! I looked up from the gray rock to see my foe lurch toward me. I shrieked as it pinned me to the ground.

The garage light flickered and dad’s amused face loomed over mine.

“Why are you wrestling with your bike, son?”

“I’m killing it before it kills me,” I wheezed, trying to push the hunk of junk off my body.

“Good luck with that.” He grinned, walked away, and turned out the light.

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