Mr Roberts awoke early, as was his habit. He lived alone and looked after himself. His large garden and the woodlands surrounding him met all of his needs, he thought.
Again, the same dream of an alien landscape, terrible gigantic vegetation, a red sun glowing in a night sky. Hovering nearby were seven inverted cones of glowing orange material. Eight foot tall by two foot wide at the top, tapering in a lumpy, uneven way down to a collection of gnarled tentacles.
They hovered a few feet above the earth, their tentacles used for tasting the air, feeding and also communication. In the dream he understood: their world was dying, and their race heading rapidly towards extinction. He could help them, they needed bodies in his world. In return, they could give him... well what did he want?
Immortality? Females? Seeds? How do you humans reproduce anyway?
Mr Roberts had more down to earth needs... just wanted the dreams to stop... would be happy to have his loft fixed and any rats that might be living up there exterminated. There was something about those rats. While he was thinking about it if that city chef and his lackeys who had moved into the farm further up the valley could be exterminated too? Good idea, the girl with the camera – she could stay. Maybe chase her down the valley a bit?
He would be a hero, yes, that plan could work. He would cook rabbit. He was getting good at it and had some really nice mustard and plenty of broad beans.
He would be a hero, yes, that plan could work. He would cook rabbit. He was getting good at it and had some really nice mustard and plenty of broad beans.
Mr Roberts breakfasted and then got to work in his allotment. The leaks were going unloved, potatoes left largely to defend themselves from insects. The pride of his allotment waere the carrots.
They were growing beautifully now he had been given the formulas for their food, the shapes to scratch into the earth, the words to make the rain the 'right kind of rain'. His new friends were growing. The would be ready soon. Ready to make good on their side of the bargain.
They were growing beautifully now he had been given the formulas for their food, the shapes to scratch into the earth, the words to make the rain the 'right kind of rain'. His new friends were growing. The would be ready soon. Ready to make good on their side of the bargain.
From their vantage point by the greenhouse, bunnies looked on with envious, fearful eyes. Harvey the rat watched too, from a gap in the roof tiles.
I always used to see the horror genre as pretty generic and dull, or at best not a genre that wouldn't be at the top of my priority list. However stories like this one actually interest me in the genre because they are well written and they are unique and intriguing.
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