This is an entry for the #twentyfourhourshortstory contest. For more information and to support/enter the contest see this post: @mctiller/writers-win-5-steem-about-usd25-in-the-24-hour-short-story-contest-topic-5-for-february-20

The hole in the fence definitely wasn’t there before.

Dad was going to kill them. She looked around. Perhaps there was something she could use to lean up against it. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice it. Who was she trying to kid. Of course he was going to see it. They were going to be in so much trouble.

“It wasn’t me!” Zeb whined, again. “The ball never went anywhere near it Kelly, I swear to you.”

“Shut up, Zeb,” Kelly bent down to look. The hole was way too neat. A perfect sphere. Even if Zeb’s kick was hard enough to break the fence - and he was only five, so that was pretty unlikely - surely it would have splintered. It wouldn’t be round like that. She touched the blackened edge. “Ouch!” It was hot. It was as if something had burned its way through. She looked through the hole, into the neighbours garden. Tiny, the Jones’ cat, looked back at her, and opened her mouth and mewed. A pathetic half-meow.

Perhaps Kelly was imagining things, but she thought Tiny looked kinda freaked out.

“Look!” Zeb pointed at the ground, a few feet away. There was a hole in the lawn too. Kelly looked from the hole in the grass to the hole in the fence and back again. Whatever this thing was, it had come through the fence and now seemed to have lodged itself into the lawn.

Dad’s pride and joy.

He was going to be so mad. Even if it wasn’t their fault. Kelly remembered the time she was punished for the braking the kitchen window. Twice. When it happened a third time her dad had set up a camera to ‘catch you doing it, because no one likes liars, Kelly!’ It turned out birds kept flying into the glass. Stunned they would lay on the ground for a few minutes and then fly off.

No, unless they could prove their innocence they would be guilty until proven innocent.

If there was some way they could repair it. Cover over the hole in the grass, so Dad wouldn’t get mad. At least, not straight away. She remembered something she had seen on Discovery about a man who had been burned on his face. The doctors had taken a piece of skin from one part of his body, that wasn’t so visible (his backside, Kelly remembered that was pretty gross) and transplanted it onto his face. She looked around the garden. Under the shade of the apple tree there was grass. If she was lucky Dad might not notice if she took a wedge of grass from there.

“Go fetch me the spade, Zeb.”

Although he grumbled and kicked his feet, as he went, Zeb did what he was told. Kelly took the spade and took a rough measurement of the size needed (using the back of the spade as a guide). After a few minutes hard work she managed to dig up a piece of turf from under the tree. Taking it back over to the hole, Zeb following her like a particularly annoying sheep, she laid the square down over the hole. It was too big, obviously. And not the right shape. Easier to cut the hole to the right size and shape, than try to make the piece of turf perfectly round.

She pushed the spade into the ground lightly, using the shape of turf as a template. Then she moved it out of the way and started to dig. There was a metallic clang and she felt a small shock as the spade hit something in the hole. Perhaps it was some kind of meteorite. That would be cool to show off at school. Perhaps Megan wouldn't be so nasty to her if she had a meteorite.

Carefully, she dug around the object. Like the hole it had made in the fence it seemed to be round, and about the size of a baseball. Using the blade of the spade, she levered it out of the hole.

“Whoa!” Zeb nudged her as he tried to get a closer look.

Whoa indeed. The thing was silver, and very shiny. Even though it had just come from the ground it was spotlessly clean.

“What is it?” Zeb said, stooping as if to pick it up.

“Not so fast, kiddo!” Kelly pushed her little brother to one side. “Finders keepers. I dug it up, I get to pick it up,” she looked her brother in the eyes. “And I get to keep it in my room. Okay?’

Zeb’s bottom lip stuck so far out, Kelly thought he might topple over. But he nodded.

“Okay.”

Kelly picked up the object. It was so smooth. She had expected it to be cold, like metal usually was but this thing was warm. And - she almost dropped it in shock - it throbbed too.

She held it up to examine it more closely. Was it some kind of drone? She couldn’t see any method of propulsion. No propellers. Nothing. Her face was reflected in its surface. She was not surprised to see herself looking as curious as she felt.

She held it up to her ear. She could hear something. It sounded. Well, a bit weird. Not weird like the odd “psychedelic” music her dad played, but more mechanical-weird.

She thought felt the ball move and she pulled it away from her ear. It was moving. Separating some how. As she watched a small piece slid aside and a small tube descended onto her palm.

She almost dropped it, a second time.

“Woah!” Zeb said, again.

Some kind of creature was slithering down the tube. It looked a bit like a slug. But not quite. Kelly was glad her friend Claire wasn’t here. She hated slugs.

This not-quite-slug was blue, and seemed to be wearing some kind of helmet.

“Cute,” Zeb said.

“Maybe,” Kelly wondered if she should perhaps contact a grown up, at this point. This definitely seemed something an adult should know about. She thought at the very least she should find some kind of container for the ball and the not-quite-slug. Even though she didn’t mind slugs, she wasn’t that happy about them sliding along her hands.

Help Me

The words were not spoken aloud. Somehow, Kelly knew that. She could hear them, but it was a bit like when you are reading a book, not out loud but in your head.

“What sort of help?” she said out loud.

“What?” said Zeb.

Kelly shushed him with one of her stern looks.

Various pictures formed in Kelly’s mind then. Some of them she understood, some of them made no sense.

“You need to slow down,” she scrunched her forehead, like she did when she was thinking really hard.

“What?” said Zeb again. Clearly, she was the only one the not-quite-slug was talking to.

She tried thinking some pictures. And the not-quite-slug seemed to understand. It ascended the tube and the little hatch closed again.

“Oh,” Zeb said, disappointed.

“We need to tidy up the garden, Zeb. Before Daddy gets home.”

Kelly left Zeb stomping on the patch of turf, and took the little ball up to her room, and popped it into a drawer, under her t-shirts. It would be safe there. For now.

She went back downstairs. Zeb had done a pretty good job, the patch was only visible when you got up close. She found a piece of wood in the shed, that she leaned up against the fence. Her dad would notice it, but maybe not until the weekend. And at least you couldn’t see daylight where there shouldn’t be any.

She heard her father’s car crunch up the driveway at the front of the house.

“Zeb,” she said, taking her little brother’s face in her hands and looking deep into his eyes. “This is really important. Don’t tell Daddy about the ball. Or the little creature.”

Zeb looked puzzled.

“What are you talking about,” he said.

O-kay… perhaps the not-quite-slug had used some kind of mind wipe on Zeb, like in that old film she’d seen once.

Probably, just as well.

Because - now she had had a little bit of time to process it - she thought she understood what the not-quite-slug wanted.

And it wasn’t very nice.

....

Other stuff by @felt.buzz

Very short stories (stories told in exactly 50 words)

“Sorry”
He wants to shake things up.
@felt.buzz/sorry-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-the-365daysofwriting-challenge-told-in-precisely-fiftywords

“Honeymoon”
She is having a great time
@felt.buzz/honeymoon-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-365daysofwriting-challenge-told-in-precisely-fiftywords

“For Her Followers”
Sometimes you need to take risks to get the perfect photograph
@felt.buzz/for-her-followers-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-the-365daysofwriting-challenge-written-with-precisely-fiftywords

“His Life’s Work”
He dedicates his life to a quest.
@felt.buzz/his-life-s-work-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-365daysofwriting-told-in-precisely-fiftywords

“glimpse”
A daily event, anticipated and dreaded in equal measure
@felt.buzz/glimpse-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-the-365daysofwriting-in-precisely-fiftywords

“Always Read The Small Print*”
*you’ve been warned
@felt.buzz/always-read-the-small-print-an-original-sci-fi-story-in-fiftywords-for-fireawaymarmot-s-writefrommymusic-contest

“A bit upset”
Things get nasty in a parking lot
@felt.buzz/a-bit-upset-an-original-fictional-story-in-precisely-fiftywords-for-the-365daysofwriting-challenge

“Brat!”
He wants a chocolate bar.
@felt.buzz/brat-an-original-fictional-story-told-in-precisely-fiftywords

“Dancing Together In The Sand”
A man dances in the sand at sunset
@felt.buzz/dancing-together-in-the-sand-an-original-fictional-tale-for-365daysofwriting-challenge-told-in-precisely-fiftywords

“Holiday”
A holiday. Is it really?
@felt.buzz/holiday-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-the-365daysofwriting-told-in-exactly-fiftywords

Some more of my short stories

"There is no defence"
A bit of weekend freewrite nonsense
@felt.buzz/there-is-no-defence-the-original-nonsensical-ramblings-of-a-disturbed-mind-for-the-weekendfreewrite-challenge

"Bes"
Bes is an ancient Egyptian God, down on his luck. And he needs to go shopping.
@felt.buzz/bes-an-original-work-of-fiction-for-the-constrainedwriting-contest

“Grivvil and Hev”
Why did Grivvil agree to go on this stupid quest. Alcohol may have had something to do with it.
@felt.buzz/grivvel-and-hev-an-original-fictional-story-for-the-365daysofwriting-challenge