It's the 4th day of September and I'm trying to get a story just in time so it's going to be a super short flash fiction piece.
by Meredith Loughran
Martin didn't particularly like visiting his grandparents during the holidays. They were slow, told corny jokes and played really bad music. He also hated the fact that they didn't have any game consoles or internet!
Frustrated, he sulked around the old house full of antiques and tried to find something redeeming about being here.
His grandparents had one rule: Do not touch anything on the mantel.
"Whatever," he thought. There wasn't anything in the house he was interested in anyway.
With a long sigh, he was about to head outside and explore the yard when he heard the smallest of sounds. It didn't sounds normal. In fact, the sound was faint but distinctly out of place.
Maybe it was a kitten or puppy?
Looking around, he searched under the desk, behind the curtains, and under the couch.
Much to his disappointment, he didn't find a lost pet, but the sound still continued.
Looking over to at the mantle, he thought he saw movement and stepped closer to for a better view. Surely it was a figment of his imagination but it looked like there was a little person banging on the glass of the old snow globe.
On his tippy toes, he leaned in to investigate further. Sure enough, there was a little person who looked so real banging on the glass.
"Oh cool!" he smiled. "What kind of snow globe is that?"
Without thinking, he lifted the snow globe from it's spot on the mantel and immediately felt a cold whoosh and every bone in his body felt like they were going to break. He tried to scream but only saw bubbles.
Opening his eyes to get his bearings, he realized that he was on the wrong side of the glass and on the outside peering in was a little girl who smiled before gently replacing the snow globe to it's place on the mantel.
"Wait!" he cried, but she ignored him. With great fear and trepidation, he saw her wave good-bye and walk out into the bright sunshine.
Banging on the glass walls, he tried to holler for help. Exhausted, he slid down the curved walls and held himself in a fetal position. What felt like hours later, he saw his grandparents enter the room. Standing up again, he banged upon the glass, waved his arms, and yelled for help.
They walked over and peered in on him. He knew they saw him but they weren't doing anything to help.
"Well," said grandpa, as he grabbed his old pipe and went to sit down in his favorite chair, "we told him not to touch anything on the mantle."
Grandma nodded. "That's too bad. He was such a nice boy."