A Balancing Tragedy

Autumn has laid her hands upon my home. She arrived especially nippy this year. Leaves have quickly turned and left the branches they clung to. Plants were now without color. Leaves of brown littered the ground. The soft crunch would always be there to greet my feet. They were there every step along the side walk.

The sidewalk spans along a road. The road in itself strove to go beyond the sight of distance by one man. A dozen residences of pleasantry exist on the lane. Although, with the uncanny awareness of a fox, stood a place with no inhabitants. I pass that place with not a feeling of happiness in any form. Luckily, with some sort of relief, a wall with overgrown weeds and debris blocked any view of the property's base. And I moved on.

The week's tail wagged and festivities were the highest. I return, walking down the same path, oblivious to my surroundings, when I heard it. A shrill scream echoed over the wall of the abandoned residence.

I thought to myself, I must be out of it. My mind plays with my ears. I take a few steps and stop. I am not crazy. Was that a trapped human? Maybe rescue is of the need?

"Should I go?" I shouted at the wall.

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" came the response.

I step back a few paces and run at the vertical obstacle. Over, I thought and over I went.

Landing on the far side, my view expands. The yard was strewn with wet leaves, toys of old, cardboard, and decaying newspapers. I snatch a sheet of the Daily News:

"Today is the annual spring clean garages sales. Many will want to setup a yards worth of antiques and other items that they want good riddance.

Also this year in 197…"

The amazement of the house grew. I stood for a time, soaking in the scenery. The moon rose to above the roof of the house. A rock flew out one of the second story windows and bounced off my foot. I focus again on the goal ahead.

The steps to the porch were cracked. Wood squeaks and creaks with every pressure by my person. A torn hammock hung by hooks of a crooked frame. I shoved the setup aside to reach the door in front. Bundling up the hero inside me, I passed through the threshold. A glance would give you the sight of tossed furniture, ripped wallpaper, and doors and cabinets worn to no more color or varnish.

"Hello!" I shouted in hope that all this could be over.

Rather than the sound of whimper or footsteps, I heard something more unnerving. What reached my ears was the sound of skittering, squeaking, and a few thuds like a cat hitting the floor on all fours. Since the sound came from upstairs, the only option was to explore the danger from above.

At the top step, the smell of raw deer meat hit my nostrils with its sledge hammer. My stomach fought to stay settle. I had to hobble a little to stay standing. I was shaking horribly with sweat that could fill a bird bath. I wipe my brow but still sweat to dehydration.

The moonlight shines through the holes in the walls. Objects kept crossing the beams of light from inside the wall. You can tell by the sounds of scuffling within. I followed those sounds to a room opposite of the stairs. The door hung loosely upon the hinges. A streak on the floor sends my gut onto a rollercoaster. My eyes follow the path. I pace myself slowly to be ready for whatever. It wanders into the room and onto a bed. I gasped. Words seem useless to the description of the next scene.

A pile of giant rts the size of badgers were headlong in some form of raw meat. They had shaggy, brown fur that had barbs, thistles, and smaller pieces stuck in. Their stench filled the air. I smelled diapers, rotten food, and port-a-potties. I'm surprised for my resilient stomach.

I slowed my steps as I walked backwards and groped for the door. A rat's face looked up. I froze to a point of being a statue. The rat gave the shrill cry. My courage drained with every pair of glowing red eyes that turned my way. Their voracity was evident upon their drooling red smiles.

Run was my thought, and ran I did! I went to the stairs. The beasts were gathering at the base of the steps. A dangling ring caught my eye. Immediately, I went for it. By pulling on the string, I released the attic entrance. Nimble feet would have been able to escape the claws and reach the attic intact. This was not the case. I came into the attic with a gash and back scars.

Boxes were piled onto the threshold. Struggling for passage was heard. The beasts would find a way in.

The attic was quiet. Dust floated on air feathers. I walked in straight line to a window placed at the opposite end. There was a chance I could escape on the roof. Luck is however tricky. I kicked a box over. In place of hitting the floor, the box toppled through a hole over the living room. Beasts congregated at the sound of scattering utensils.

I am trapped. All my exits, all my hopes scattered by ruthless demons.

There is balance in the universe. Luck lent a buzz or rather a buzzing nest. The sound directed me to a beam. On that beam was the largest, most perfect, most spirit-lifting hornet's nest I had ever seen. I dove into the pile of storage and came out with a pole. I took out the pocketknife I had won at the balloon popping contest. My shoelace was used to bind the staff and the blade together. I stretched and reached. I wound up my strength. I released, and so did the strand holding the nest.

The plunging nest was a sign of victory. My victory. Hornets buzzed out and attacked the devil's pets. All of them killed by living needles.

Time passed with molasses on the gears. Eos had appeared and signaled the day. My pace down the steps was relaxed. I was calm.

I opened the front door. One unaccounted monster smiled at my soul.

"All victories have a price."

The sun rose upon a dead lot.