Considering how I was pounding on the door, and ringing the bell endlessly, and screaming, “Marty! Marty! Marty!” at the top of my lungs, it took a ludicrous amount of time for Marty to actually answer the door.
When he finally did answer, he had his handgun pointed right at me. I threw my hands up, “Don’t shoot me!” as I backed away.
“Tom?” He didn’t look happy. “It’s 3 in the morning, Tom.” He looked rather angry, “Why are you beating my door down at 3, Tom?”
I pointed at the moon. “Look! Look!”.
“I don’t see anything, Tom.” I swore the angry look he gave me could cut glass, “Just the moon”
I was hopping up and down, pointing at the sky, and wishing I could hide in a deep cave full of guns. “It’s right there!”
“What’s right there, Tom?”
He looked at the moon, and then looked around, mostly at the sky. “I don’t see anything, Tom.”
“Oh, crap! He’s seen me!” I tried to push past Marty, in to the house, but he blocked my way, and aimed his gun at me. “Go home, Marty. You’re having a nightmare. There’s nothing to it.” I almost broke my nose on his door as he slammed it shut.
I stood there. Every time I looked up, there was Pegasus, leather wings and all, watching me. I kept hearing Rockwell singing, “I always feel like, somebody’s watching me.”
“Please, Mr. Pegasus, sir. Don’t eat me.”
I wrote this for week 2×03 of Cara Michaels‘s #MenageMonday flash fiction challenge. You can read about #MenageMonday here. Please, go read all the short tales from this week. The tales are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. And many of them are amazing.