This post is part of Writer’s Digest February Flash Fiction Challenge. Flash Fiction is a short, often under 1,000 words, style of writing. I hope you enjoy my 28 contributions!
Day 25 Prompt: Write About a Cryptoid
I grew up in a relatively small suburban enclave just north of Los Angeles. It was one of those places where neighbors chatted with each other in their front yards, kids on bikes flooded the streets, and moms would powerwalk the sidewalks with their strollers and their Mommy and Me clubs.
Every Saturday morning, my little sister and I would ride our bikes the two blocks to the local Donut Star, buy whatever our allowance for the week would afford us, then stop by the park next to our house on the way home and inhale our treats. It was a simple enough routine, but one that my little sister and I looked forward to every single weekend.
One weekend not too long ago, my sister and were at the park as usual. Full from my double chocolate twist donut, I waddled over to my bike laboriously, wanting nothing more than to watch the remaining list of Saturday morning cartoons from the comfort of our couch. When I turned to ensure that my sister was following my lead, I noticed her staring cautiously at a bush. Before I could say anything, she was on her hands and knees, reaching deep into the bush’s canopy.
Moments later, she pulled out a tiny rabbit, its chest heaving with sharp, quick breaths, and its fur matted with some darkly colored liquid. I dropped my bike and ran over to assess the rescued critter, noticing the liquid was a sticky, slimy material that seemed altogether foreign to me. The rabbit didn’t stir in my sister’s hands so, like any curious kids with an irrational love for all wild animals, we took it home.
Shocked by our discovery, and maybe a little disgusted by its appearance, my mom demanded we keep the creature outside. My dad procured a box that we could house the fragile bunny in, and my mom whisked my little sister inside to scrub her hands with whatever industrial grade soap she deemed most suitable to deal with the alien substance dripping off her fingers.
I suggested we grab the tiny animal some food and water, thinking it might cure whatever calamity had rendered it so sedentary. My sister brought out an old, recycled applesauce cup filled with water while my mom chopped up some carrots, harkening back to her Looney Tunes inspired knowledge of rabbit food. Together, my whole family stood over the box and watched the bunny as my mom dropped the chopped-up carrots next to the water cup.
For several seconds, nothing happened. The rabbit’s tiny body continued to rise and fall with worrisome irregularity. Finally, its eyes began to flutter, then shot wide open. Grotesque reptilian eyes darted around its new home as it pulled itself up onto its four furry paws. The rabbit opened its mouth and a thin, slimy, purple tongue slithered out towards the water, draining the cup instantaneously. Large talons grew from its appendages as it trudged over in a completely unrabbitlike way to the pile of chopped carrots. It opened its mouth, exposing a row of razor-sharp fangs. Then, with an unhinged jaw, chomped down on the carrots, swallowing the vegetables in less than a second.
My parents and I stared at the creature in the box, terrified by the surreal display unfolding before us. My sister, however, naïve with age and with an untainted heart, simply laughed and clapped before turning to my parents and begging with a sweetly innocent voice, “Can we keep him, pleeeease?”
