Invaders

by Isaac Pyritz 4 months ago in fiction

The Invasion of the Home Might Be the Greatest Horror

Invaders

“When is Mom getting home from Walmart?” I asked my sister who would not stop playing with our dog.

“She just left, Martin. Probably in like forty-five minutes.” Belle yelled back.

That was music to my ears, another ranked game in League of Legends without being barraged by my parents to go outside. I ran to my room, and threw myself in my chair, clicking the PLAY button to queue up for a match. Pulling my headphones over my head, I heard my sister yell for me.

“Martin, will you take Hope outside? She needs to pee!”

Ugh, I clicked the X to leave the search for a game, and pulled my headphones off. I unlocked the back door.

“Come on, Hope!” I called, as my thin dog frantically ran outside with her tail wagging. This dog was always happy; she never seemed to change her mood outside of being a beaming battery of joy. I shut the door and watched from inside. The backyard was fenced in, but Hope had a way of escaping when she knew we were not watching her.

Thumps at the front door startled me, and I made my way over. The blinds on the door were shut, but I peeped through the cracks, seeing a burly man with tool-belt above his work trousers and a simple shirt.

Hope began barking at the backdoor, a sign she was ready to come back in. I pulled the front door open.

“Uh, Hello.” I hesitantly greeted.

“Hello!” The man kindly returned. “I’m here for the broken toilet in your parents bedroom. They called us less than fifteen minutes ago and I was just leaving my last job down the street. Perfect timing if you ask me.”

I did not recall my parents mentioning a plumber, or even the problems with the toilet. The man had Indoor Tru’s Plumbing stitched on his top, and even imprinted on his van.

“Oh, come on in. I will show you their bathroom.” I said while opening the door for the man to enter. He flinched his hand, and then stepped in, waiting beside me to lead the way. “I did not catch your name,” I informed him, while walking through the kitchen to my parents room.

“Dale,” he stated, stopping at that. We reached their bathroom that was likely the cleanest room in the entire house oddly enough.

“Well, Mr. Dale here it is. If you need anything, I’ll be past the kitchen in the room on the far left.” I smiled and nodded, walking out of the room, and opening the back door to let Hope in. Then retreating back to my oasis of gaming.

After finally getting situated and putting my headphones on, I prepared to search for a game. I scrolled through YouTube to find a good video on a few gameplay mechanics to get a much higher rank on my account. A rank I deserved.

The front door slammed shut and I dismissed it as I had a feeling Dale would be doing that quite frequently. My mouse vibrated, MATCH FOUND, ACCEPT? The client of the game projected.

I clicked accept and the game loaded to the selection screen of the many champions to play as. I heard the door open, and more steps than one man would produce. He was a big guy, but the steps overlapped, and went on right after the others. I clicked my character, and pulled my headset off. I creaked my door open, and saw three people in the kitchen. Two men, one being Dale, and a plump woman. They scanned the house up and down, possibly looking at where the pipes could lead. I could not definitively say, I knew not a slick of information about plumbing or piping in homes.

I go to my PC and exit the game out, I’ll take the penalty for leaving. Opening the door, the two other beside Dale scurry away, and he watched me as I decide to walk to the garage. I try to listen to what they are saying, but the room is dead silent.

I unlock the garage door and go into the closed room. It had my dad’s toolboxes, and a various other sets of workout equipment. I pull my phone out and call my Mom.

It rings four times until she picks up,

“Martin, I’m in Walmart. The signal is really bad in here.” She answered.

“It will only take a second. I didn’t know you and dad needed the toilet fixed. What happened?”

“What are you talking about? The toilet was fine when I-”

The line cut out, a mixture of my phone dying and her weak signal. Fear. Fear was all I felt now. If she did not call the plumber, as my dad was on a business trip, then who did. I knew Belle would not, she was far too awkward to strike up a conversation with her friends, let alone a business.

I grabbed the katana that was in a set of four stationed on the wall. It was used as decor after my dad got a deal he claims none could resist. The crashing of glass and banging came from inside. I clicked the button to open the garage, and crept to the front door.

It was wide open, I heard the cries of my sister, and I ran in. The plump woman held a dagger in her hand, and was turned around, watching the living room that led to the broken doors the men had looted.

Dale came from my room, and his eyes caught mine, my only instinct was to do the same thing I did in my games. I drove the sword straight into the woman's head, and it cut clean through like a knife in butter. I pulled it back and her body fell to the floor with her blood entrenching the hardwood.

Dale’s eyes were as wide as the hole put in his accomplice's head. He pulled out a similar dagger, and ran to the garage.

“Penny is dead! Lyon come on!” He commanded as he fled through the garage. I charged the man that had broken into my room. As I got to the entrance, the other man had met me there, and tried to swing his small blade. I slashed a gaping slice in his stomach.

He held it while he watched the blood pour out, “I guess we shouldn’t have went silent.” He murmured before he collapsed, dropping his blade. My sister let out a horrific scream.

I ran in and grabbed her, “Come on!” I barked. We made a run for the backdoor, but Dale was back in the living room. He had a dagger, and another that was red from the blood from his fallen friend. He charged me, but my many years of practicing knife throwing classes paid off. I tossed my katana up, and caught it in the handle, and threw in straight through the man’s neck. He dropped his blades, and wrapped his hands around his throat. His wheezes from the air being cut off finally brought him down. Belle could hardly keep in her cries.

I heard a door slamming from the front yard, and moved to the door. A woman with claws of blades over her hands, dressed in a purple punk rock outfit sprinted to our home.

I pulled my sister to the backyard, and slammed the door behind us. I heard my dog barking, but behind her I saw the woman had made it in. “The fence! Jump over the fence!”

I pushed Belle over after she stepped on the part that held it together in the middle. I jumped up and I heard the whimpers of my dog, and then a cry. She went silent, the tears rolled out from my eyes, but I could not stop. I jumped over and met her in the wild grass that was almost as tall as I was.

The sound of the backdoor crashing open boosted our adrenaline as we ran through the sewage business behind our home. The sirens of police blared, and the lights of the cars flashed, driving past us, and into our neighborhood. We ran out to the street and by the Lord’s mercy, my mom was speeding by.

The door swung open by itself, and when I joined the cushion of the seat, I suddenly had woken up in my bed. Standing over me was my mother staring down with a grin from cheek to cheek. Hope jumped up on the bed and licked my face. That was went I saw four stab wounds to her neck, I pushed her off, and my mother was still in her frozen state of staring at me. Running out of the room, I suddenly was in the police station alone. The desk and white room of solitary was mute, and all that trailed my mind was the attack, and the bizarre reality I was in. I could not grasp that I had killed a man, let alone three, unless it was all a dream. The lock to the door giggled and the door opened.

As I turned to see the police officer, three of them walked in. The same three people I had killed. Dale sat at the desk with a smirk. His accomplices stood by the door, as the woman with the claws followed behind. They pulled their daggers from behind them and stepped close to me.

“Payback is a painful burden.” The clawed woman laughed, and locked the door behind her.

fiction
How does it work?
Read next: Run Necromancer
Isaac Pyritz

I like to write.

See all posts by Isaac Pyritz