Infection for +Karen Shackles

They came from the sky. Thousands of them; too small to do damage, although large enough to be noticed. The astronomers never thought they would make it through the atmosphere, but they did; pebble-like, the size of a penny, burying themselves in whatever they hit.

The fatalities were minimal, luckily. Very few people were hit, and many of those that did survived. We thought it was over.

We were wrong.

As the years passed and life continued as though nothing had happened (aside from another mark on our calendars), we noticed changes. People, those struck by the objects, began acting strangely. They developed fevers; began striking out at there fellow man. A few went on sprees, killing and maiming whomever they came across.

We thought perhaps something in the objects... the Seeds, as people were beginning to call them... was driving them insane. And we were right, in a sense; but we did not know that until later.

The study of the victims and the seeds began in earnest. They tried to pluck them out, but found their dubbing had been more accurate than at first suspected; the seeds had joined with their nervous system, rewiring it for... something.

An EEG revealed new brain waves in operation, confusing and perhaps corrupting original thought patterns. We assumed these came from the seeds themselves, that they were some kind of intelligent parasite. If so, this would be at once a terrible and wonderful thing, as it would prove we were not the only intelligent species in the universe.

Again, we were wrong.

Have you ever wondered about the planet? Earth, a wonderful place, the only spot in the entire universe to
support intelligent life. Over the years we have fed from it, blown holes in it, dug in it, survived on it; which in itself is fine, as that is what it is here for; to nurture.

But what happens when your children get greedy? What happens when the punishment doesn't work? What happens when you get an infection that won't go away?

You strike back. You take antibiotics. You kill the infection off.

My name was Billy in a past life. I lived in Georgia. I was one of those infected. We survived because we were infected. The seeds grew in the planet and in us, binding us all together into a single entity. We survived because we rid the world of its infection.

404 words, 15 minutes

Unholy for Pete Wheeler

When she had arrived home, she found her infant son crying in his crib. Beside him, a man hung from a rope thrown hastily over the rafters. She had no idea why he had hung himself; as far as she had known, he had been happy in their marriage; they had plenty of money and a good life. She could not understand why he had chosen to end it.

Then she saw it. It was about four feet from the ground, crouched and hissing; a beast that was almost gorrilla-like in form, bright red horns covering its arms and down its spine. It spoke to her in whispers that made her shudder, and she understood.

She was out the door before it could stop her, the baby in one arm and the cross around her neck cletched in her other hand. She had to move, and move fast. She let go of the crucifix for a moment, reaching out to grab the hand on the door; it sizzled and blistered her skin.

She made her way down the road, running as fast as she could, stumbling on the dirt and rocks.  She fell once, landing on her knee and one arm; she swore she heard laughter, and forcer her to her feet, urging her forward.

The laughter continued; an insane kind of laughter that echoed in the deepest recesses of her soul as she ran.

As soon as she got to the highway, she waved at the cars. They did not stop, they just kept moving. She kept trying, kept beggiing for attention; and eventually one stopped. In the chair sat an older woman, likely a mother herself.

Without an explanation, she told her she needed to get to the church.

"Why?"

"Just do it!" she yelled, looking behind her where the creature was sitting, quite calmly, watching her, his laughter echoing.

The church was an old stone building, with a well-tended yard and trimmed bushes. It was quiet and calm, comforting; and every instinct told her it was her only safety.

She had never put much faith in God until that moment. It was her husband who had been the church-goer; the man who had seemed so happy that somehow had ended up so lost.

She ran up the sidewalk, opened the door and slipped in. She walked slowly up the aisl between the pieus, revelling in the silence, all the way up to the crucified Jesus which looked down at her with kindness and understanding.

She fell to her knees then, unable to run anymore, and prayed. The infant in her arms stirred, looking up at her, rubbed its eyes with its tiny hands, and smiled. She hugged it close.

Then small, sharp teeth dug into her neck.

470 wods, 15 minutes