It was late as I walked up my street from the bus stop. I noticed an odd glow lighting up the sidewalk in front of Ms. Matisse’s house. Her garbage bin was at the curb for pickup in the morning, but it was on fire. The flames were undulating in colours both bright and dark at the same time. There seemed to be a faint crying of balls emanating directly off the flames themselves. I began to wonder if those tacos I ate at work were a bit off. As I got closer I noticed the plastic of the bin was not melting from the fire. Instead it was covered in a thick frost. A frost that was spreading across the ground near the bin. Freezing the asphalt, the sidewalk, and the lawn. The fact that Seattle was in the middle of a heat wave had zero effect. I was pleasantly cool too once I was within 20 feet of it. That’s when I saw the overly large, pristine blue, feathers littered around the garbage bin.
*slight edit for a friend
It was an average, typical Saturday night at first. A group of friends out and about in the big city. Bar hoping and drinking till they began to fall over each other. Finally, Hank was in the gutter and we all stopped to play nursemaid as best as our drunken selves could. I think it was Olivia who pointed out that there was alphabet soup streaming down the gutter Hank had fallen into. It was coming on like a small river too. Someone, somewhere, up the road was dumping a lot of soup. All the sudden we all noticed a foul smell emanating from the soup. It smelled like rancid death, an abattoir gone bad. It was about then that we all added to the bad smell of the gutter. I threw out everything I’d been wearing that night once I got home.
He never understood why everyone else left. The mall still had power from its solar panels, the air conditioning worked, and the shops were all stocked. People left so fast that no one had looted it. The back storage of many a shop, many a restaurant, had lots of useful things. Once he figured out how to reset the music in the public announcement system, the loneliness was almost bareable. Staying away from the windows was the important thing during the day, but the night was different. At night it got cool enough he could venture out into the sunbaked death. He just didn’t want too anymore.
I was supposed to be the bait, again. The lure for the Mummy. It had broken out of its tomb and was scaring all the locals. I tried to tell Shaggy that I didn’t want to do it at all, but he just threw another pot brownie at me. I couldn’t help myself and caught it out of the air, swallowing it in one bite. I forgot to argue and he just waltzed off leaving me alone. Left me for the monster as usual. I hate him. He makes great sandwiches, but he leaves me out to get eaten too often. I ought too… What was that noise? Is Shaggy coming back already? RUN!!!