Shovel Thrower

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Song of the Chapter: People Are Strange by The Doors

Warning: Unedited!

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The old, beat up car skidded to a stop on the dirt path that served as the Hoppers' driveway. The ride from the Wheelers' to her own house had been silent. No music played through her speakers, and even the white noise of the road and the wind passing seemed quieter. Lennon shoved all her belongings back into her schoolbag, including the two black and white pictures of her. She reached for the pens littering her floor, holding onto a blue pen in her small fingers. Her mind raced, wondering how in the world a little girl could levitate an object with her mind.

Lennon threw her car door shut and hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. She walked up to the front steps of the trailer, her boots scuffling up the stairs. Reaching into her old, brown leather bag once again, she pulled out her keys. The metal jangled loudly in the silence of the still night as she searched for the right key in the darkness. Finding the silver house key, she went to push it into the lock on the door. In the midst of moving the key, a shuffle in the woods beside her caught her attention.

The leaves had been disturbed, as if someone had stepped closer to her. She squinted her eyes, trying to look into the dark treeline but saw nothing. It was just pitch black. Lennon felt trapped, as if someone, or something was staring her down, just beyond her sight. She released a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding in. As soon as the breath formed a cloud of water vapor in front of her, someone stepped out of the tree line and into the moonlight. Lennon squinted her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the person standing just behind her car.

When her eyes focused, her breath hitched once again. The person was, in fact, no person at all. It stood tall, it's body being disgustingly sunken in. The rib cage of the creature stuck out, casting a dark shadow over the stomach. Bones and muscles protruded from the creature. The skin appeared to be a grey color, covered with a mucas-like substance making it appear damp to the touch. Lennon's logical side threw out the thought that it may be some disfigured bear but her instincts told her it was something all too grim. The thing that stuck with her the most was that the creature had no face. Just a blank, cracked grey surface where features should lay.

The creature's long leg stepped forward, causing the leaves under it to crunch. It was the same sound Lennon heard before that made her stomach twist into knots. The girl took a shaky breath, offering one last look to the woods as she turned to her keys quickly, unlocking her door. She stole a look behind her, tears rushing down her face in fear. The creature was now running to her, on all fours. It took a large jump, landing on top of her car. She noticed the metal top of her car bend under the weight. Her face hardened. That car was just about the only thing she had ever gotten from her mother since the passing of her sister. The creature rested atop the car, almost taunting her. Lennon breathed in deeply, anger flowing through her veins.

The girl looked to her left, seeing a shovel resting against the outside of the trailer. She looked back to the creature still on her car as she grabbed the object. With a grunt, she heaved the shovel through the air. It spun and turned as it flew towards the creature, slicing the arm of it as it passed. The creature let out a screech of pain as it toppled over onto the ground beside her car. The screech nearly made Lennon cover her ears with her small hands but she instead turned to her door. She shoved the key into the lock, twisting it open.

The heavy white door that usually stuck in the frame opened quite quickly due to the force she used to shove it open. She stepped in hastily, and slammed it behind her, pushing it closed with the side of her body. Her hip jutted out, making sure it stayed closed as she locked it. Once the key turned, Lennon sighed deeply, feeling her nerves die down. In the comfort of her home, she felt like the whole thing was silly. Like she was a silly little girl afraid of the dark. She ran a hand through her hair, resting her palm on her forehead as she tried to remember if she even heard and seen anything or if it was a figment of her imagination. 

Facade-[1]-[Steve Harrington]Where stories live. Discover now