Something in the airMature

I have a headache (seriously) and it's been a while since I've written anything aside from work stuff. I have no idea what this story is going to be about, I'm making it up as I go along. Let's see what happens shall we?

Mrs. Higgins hummed to herself as she clipped the deadheads from her beloved roses. 

She wore a pink golf shirt and old overalls with small torn patches showing their wear, and on her hands flowery loose gardening gloves. It was not lost on anyone who may have passed by that Mrs. Higgins loved to garden. 

The humming continued as she joyfully began digging a hole with a small trowel, above her in the sky the sun beat down rays of warm love and the entire world could have been rainbows and kittens in her mind at that moment. 

Beside her was the next member to join her family of plants, a small bush of deep red roses, with angry-looking thorns as sharp as talons lining the stems. 

As her work on the home for her new rose bush was finished she sat back on her haunches and pulled off her gloves with a sigh, wiping her forehead of the few beads of sweat that had gathered under her tan-coloured visor. 

Gardening was joyous, but it was also hard work, especially in the hot sun. 

She reached to her other side and grabbed a handful of dry, dusty bonemeal from the bag that sat open, and lined the freshly-dug hole with it. 

"A nice meal for my pretty new baby," she cooed as she carefully dusted the hole back and forth with the greyish powder. "So nourishing and delicious." 

When she finished she turned her attention to the new rosebush, carefully removing it from its temporary potted home and then transplanting it into the hole she had dug. 

There was a short cry as she caught her finger on one of the thorns and she began to bleed against the stem. 

"Silly me," she said. "Forgot to put on my gloves, oh well a little blood never hurt you." 

Putting on her gloves again first, she then pushed the mound of dirt from the hole over the area until it filled in all the cracks and she carefully patted around the mound with love and more humming. 

When Mrs. Higgins finished she leaned back on her haunches once again to admire her handiwork and cooed. 

"You'll be the star of my garden little one," she said with glee. "Just a little love and attention is all you need."

Suddenly she heard some movement coming from behind her in some large lilac bushes that bordered the line between her lot and her neighbours'. 

As she looked into the shade she saw something shuffle around under the cover of the leaves. The bushes were so large and heavily leafed out that it was very dark further under the bush. 

Mrs. Higgins didn't notice as she was looking towards the bushes but on the horizon clouds began to appear. 

Her attention was on the shuffling and movement that came from the bush. Was it a friendly squirrel, a chipmunk, or a pesky rodent that might make a meal of her precious rosebuds? 

She got on her hands and knees and slowly moved forward towards the lilacs where were only a few feet behind her. The shuffling and movement continued as she approached. Whatever was under the bushes seemed to have no apprehensiveness about her slow and cautious approach. 

The clouds approaching showed a sinister black heart, a darkness that was a dense hue against the bright sunny day. 

Mrs. Higgins called out to the creature that snuffled and shuffled about, obviously digging some kind of burrow. 

"My. my aren't you a busy little so and so," she sang. "What is it you are up to under my lilacs." 

Her face came very close to the underside of the lilac bushes and he world became darker as she fell into the shade of the leafy cavern. 

The shuffling abruptly stopped, the only sound that could be heard now was the slight breeze that had picked up and was, at a snails pace, bringing the dark ominous clouds closer in from the horizon. 

The leaves of the lilac bushes rustled and fell silent, and rustled once again as the wind played with them. 

A sour stench came wafting out of the lilac bush as the wind died down once more, and Mrs. Higgins had to cover her nose. 

"Oh my, you are a smelly little thing are you not?" as she moved her face ever closer. 

It was then that the hissing began, low at first, almost lost in the rustle of the leaves, but gaining ferocity as her face moved closer. It was a distinctive sound that only meant one thing; back off. 

But Mrs. Higgins was far too curious to worry about what a small little creature could do, whatever this odd thing was that was digging its home under her ornate bushes. 

The hissing was now joined by a low growl, almost like a groaning, but definitely menacing in its tone. The shuffling returned but it was almost as if it were more of an unnerving movement. This creature, whatever it was, was definitely uncomfortable with her close proximity. 

Mrs. Higgins brought the trowel forward slowly in her hand and without warning jabbed into the darkness with it. 

The hissing rose significantly as did the growl in sort of a defensive howl, and continued after she pulled the trowel back again. 

"You dirty little thing, I want you out of there now," she yelled, and swung with the trowel again. 

As she did, the creature shot out, with lightning reflexes, a group of talons that quickly sank into the skin of Mrs. Higgins throat and cut all the way across her through her jugular and windpipe and out the other side, before quickly retracting. 

Blood poured from her throat in waves as her main artery quickly began emptying through the protrusion. 

Mrs. Higgins could only make choking and gargling noises as she began to choke on her own blood, unable to breath, but before she suffocated her body had quickly emptied quarts of blood onto the soil and grass. 

The hissing had stopped and as Mrs. Higgins made a choked attempt at one last breath of air before her life ended the thing slowly moved out and began to lick at the fresh blood in the soil. 

In her eyes it was a fuzzy blob that soon became nothing but black like the darkness of the clouds. 

A distant sound of thunder could be heard. 

The End

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