It was a shed. That’s all; an ordinary wooden shed. It was about 6 by 4; the kind you buy at a DIY store and put up in your garden; or allotment maybe.
That’s all there is to say about it: except that it came out of nowhere during the night and was in the middle of the roundabout in the High Street.
I should have left well alone; I had no business thinking what was inside. Chances were it was put up by the Council for workmen. They’re always digging up roads.
I’m quite a timid man and no one would call me adventurous, but there was something about this wooden shed that got to me. I couldn’t stop looking. People around me walked by, getting on with their lives, going to work, heading off to school.
I stood up close. It was no ordinary shed. I hadn’t seen wood quite like it, it was brown and smooth with no knot-holes. Maybe it wasn’t wood at all; some sort of plastic maybe.
There was a small dark window in the door. I leaned forward to peer in, and as I did, the door opened silently, letting a sweet, sickly smell out. I stepped forward, not really scared, but not relaxed either.
The creature was about three feet tall and looked like it should be in a cheap 1960s sci-fi movie. The door closed behind me. The shed shook violently and I knew at once that we had taken flight.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 