MicroHorror

James stood on the freshly dug pile of dirt beside a substantial hole in his back yard. His son, Bobby, was in the hole with a shovel, his arms going like windmills.

“What you doin’, son?”

Bobby wiped his sweaty brow on a sleeve and looked up from the hole. “Diggin’.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Then why’d ya ask?” Bobby said impatiently. He couldn’t understand adults. What did it look like he was doing?

“Okay, smarty pants, there is a seven-foot-deep hole in my backyard and I’d kinda like to know why. Can you help me out here? What are you looking for? Treasure? Fish worms? China?”

“The monster that ate Billy.” He resumed digging.

James saw his hunting knife attached to his son’s belt. “Oh, you and Billy are playing. Where is he? And why do you have my knife?”

Bobby stopped digging. “For crying out loud! I told you, a monster ate him!”

“Okay, young man, come up here. You know better than to talk to me like that.”

“But Pa!”

“Now.”

“I gotta find him!”

“NOW!”

Bobby headed for the stepladder he borrowed earlier from his mom. James saw bloodstains on Bobby’s arms and worrisome scratches on his face and neck.

“Bobby! Are you hurt? What happened to you?”

“We was diggin’ for gold, Pa. It got him. It tried to get me, too.” He started up the ladder.

“What got him? Are you just pretending? Don’t play games with me, Bob…”

A dark tentacle-like thing probed through the bottom of the pit. Before Bobby could react it attached a plate-sized suction cup to his face, pulled him off the ladder and into the hole at the bottom of the pit.

Bobby’s mom came up to the pit, being careful to avoid the flying dirt. “Hey! In the hole! I need my ladder back. Bob… James? Uh, lose your car keys? What in the world are you doing?”

“Digging.”

“Digging for what? Treasure? We could use some.”

“The monster that ate Bobby!”

There was movement at the bottom of the pit.