Day #15, Sundown – by Elizabeth Averay
Ninety six years ago at sundown a monster stole through the little village, helping itself to anyone who it happened upon in the streets and gardens. Old, young, male, female – it cared not. It just nabbed whoever it came across and would either tear them apart and eat them, or tear them apart and leave their bloody pieces in a pile.
This happened every evening as the sun went down, for two long weeks. The townspeople tried shooting the monster. The bullets bounced off, flying every which way. They shot flaming arrows at it. It just snatched them from the air and ate them, flame and all. Next they tried a deep pit with razor sharp spikes at the bottom. The monster fell in and became impaled on said spikes, and the villagers rejoiced. Then with an almighty roar and an effort that would put Hercules to shame, the monster pulled itself off the spikes and slow, painfully clambered up out of the pit.
In a blinding rage it destroyed half the townsfolk.
One child noticed the monster would not go near their homes, even in its blinding rage. And what was more, it never went into any buildings to collect anybody. It only took people and animals from outside. ‘So why don’t we all make sure we’re in our homes before sunset?’ he asked, with the easy logic of children.
The two town heads left decided this was wise advice and it became an unofficial town rule. And for extra safety they added that once inside nobody should venture out again until morning light…
All these years later, the inhabitants still abide by this rule, even though nobody in the town has seen the monster since. The pit dug ninety six years ago is still there, with the weathered spikes stabbed into the ground at its bottom.
A visitor placed a couple of cameras up in the main street of town, set to record from sundown to sunup. For three weeks the cameras recorded all night, every night.
Every second night a large shape could be seen moving ponderously along the streets, peering into windows and looking in trees along the roads, checking the parks – all to no avail.
Then on the last night of recording the monster found one of the cameras. It got right up close, offering a fabulously clear image of its face: wiry black hair, sallow skin, wild wide yellow eyes, slight fangs protruding from its lower jaw, no lips, razor point of a nose, batwing shaped ears – but the most prominent thing about this creature was its sheer size. It would make a truck seem like a toy.
As it ambled away it grabbed a stray animal that unwittingly crossed its path, crammed the whole thing in its enormous lipless mouth and chewed, swallowing the whole thing in one.
The townsfolk have now made a sign, the monster’s image looming large, and it reads: GO OUTSIDE AFTER SUNDOWN AT YOUR OWN PERIL.
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