Mrs. Rechenbacher rushed to her easy chair, dinner plate in hand. She dragged her TV tray over with a rattle and sat.
The local news would start in two minutes and she never missed it. She always told her students: “an uninformed citizen is an irresponsible citizen!” And Mrs. Rechenbacher always practiced what she preached.
The intro jingle introduced her evening companions—anchors Cynthia Strong and Jasper White. Mrs. Rechenbacher was pretty sure the two of them were having an affair, or were about to. The sexual tension on-screen was unmistakable. Even a twice-divorced, menopausal celibate like her could see that.
The top story was one she’d already heard scattered details about during the workday, mostly from Mr. Phillips and Mrs. Killkenny, two other third-grade teachers. An old lady on Market Street caught her house on fire cooking dinner—and where were her children, Mrs. Rechenberger thought, relieved she didn’t have any ungrateful offspring to abandon her in her old age—when a nice young man happened by, ran inside and saved her life. It was the kind of story that almost, almost, restored her faith in humanity. She wrote down the number for the Red Cross. The second and third stories were about a stabbing and a shooting, respectively, and the fourth was fluff. Mrs. Rechenbacher had no patience for fluff stories.
During the commercial break, she replenished her lemonade and got a second helping of green beans, already planning out a drive at school to collect clothes and other necessities for the old woman. Mrs. Rechenbacher thought it disgraceful how American society abandoned the elderly; in other countries, they were revered and nurtured. We could learn something from the Japanese.
By the time she made her way back to the living room, the news was back and the fifth story of the evening was beginning. Transfixed by the image on the screen, Mrs. Rechenbacher forgot her hands were carrying a glass and plate and both slipped from her fingers, pouring lemonade and beans all over her carpet.
But she hardly noticed.
How could this be the fifth story of the night? It’s as if it wasn’t even happening.
The image on the screen was from Morocco and the rubble of an earthquake there. It was all very terrible—bloodied people stumbling through dust-choked streets and collapsed buildings. All of the sights one would expect. And Mrs. Rechenbacher saw what the reporters were focused on, what everyone else would likely notice and remember. But her horror was directed to the background.
The sun was setting in this footage. It was in the west, at the horizon, and likely where the earth had split open, that she saw it: thousands of winged figures, bursting up into the sky in a determined procession to begin their long-awaited hunt. The sight could be explained away as birds taking flight or perhaps some kind of debris cloud. If anyone was paying attention, it would be explained away, that much was sure.
Mrs. Rechenbacher had always believed, but not seeing them with her own eyes made it easier for her to hold onto a little scrap of doubt and hope that their existence was a myth. But now that scrap was gone.
The creatures were real. God help us all.
If they were already on the hunt, it was too late. She thought they all had time—maybe years, hopefully months. Now, she estimated weeks.
She had to prepare her students.
News & Other WIPs
I have very exciting news this month! My short story, “Big Wild World,” will be published in January in a new fantasy magazine called Sally Port Magazine. I will be getting paid the most per word I’ve ever ben paid for anything, and I’ve been writing professionally (off and on) since 2005. I’m not bragging about the money, I’m pointing out the pay to highlight that this is a big deal. Writers, artists, and all creative people do not get paid enough for their work and never have. To be paid what I’m worth means the world to me.
The other news I have is not writing related, but related to my other passion in life–photography. I was recently asked to submit a book proposal for a photographic tour of my little corner of the world–New York’s North Country. I will hear later this month if I get it, and I’m pretty excited because again, it’s an opportunity to actually be paid in real money for something creative.
My current work-in-progress, other than my novel, is called “Fantasy Travel Guide,” which is of course a working title. It’s inspired by a few things: the Hero’s Journey, the Grail Diary from “The Last Crusade,” and these old travel guides I found in a bookstore once, called Baedeker’s. It’s hazy right now, but it will be some kind of a guide to a fantasy world where unhappy and aimless young men can journey to find themselves. I’m writing a backstory fairy tale at the moment, which will guide the plot of the finished story. I’ll share that with you next month.
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