Monday, September 7, 2015

Raccoonville, Monster USA

(My response to Glipho Ex-pats latest writing challenge on Facebook)

I found a typewriter in the fourth room I came to.  I dragged myself inside then checked the hallway behind me.  No blood on the floor.  Good.  My leg had stopped bleeding, mostly, but some blood may have gotten through the shirt I had used for a bandage.  I closed the door and locked it.

The police station was silent now so my labored breathing and boots scraping on the floor sounded louder than it should.  I won't complain.  At least the screaming had stopped.  The monsters had run out of food, live food anyway.  Except me.  And I know they were still looking.  I had to do this quick.  Only I knew how to stop them but there was no way I was getting out alive.  Mankind's only hope was for me to leave a message.

I reached up and tapped a key.  The ink was red.  Blood red.