6 February 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2639 (Part 12) | Prompt: a nice illusion

Part 11: Recap

The situation wasn't at all what Nathan had been led to expect; especially from Herman. Disillusioned, Nathan's hands flew to his temples as he paced the floor, careful to avoid eye contact hoping to find a way to keep Olivia from Herman, whose eyes gleamed as if a reward only he knew of was waiting.

All eyes turned to Nathan. Were they expecting a hearty handshake? Grudgingly, with lips pressed tight, he managed a bitter smile. Breaking eye contact, he covered his face with one hand, followed by a heavy sigh.

The urge to be alone with the children rushed to the forefront.

Immediately he issued with a hand gesture indicating their business was concluded before jamming his hands into his armpits and shooting a hot glance at Herman. Ophelia, recognizing his agony, shuffled toward him and stood quietly by. It was pointless to plead because the margin of victory was too wide, her own eyes offered, as she rubbed Nathan's arm.

Cowards, all of them! Nathan raged silently. He turned toward the children. They just stood there staring at the adults.

"There's still the issue of coordinating the date, time, and place to hand over the children," Buford blurted, annoyed that more planning hadn't been discussed after the vote.

"You all can decide amongst yourselves. Let me know," Nathan answered, then continued, "I'm drained. I need to rest. The children aren't going anywhere tonight."

All filed from Nathan's home whispering and murmuring as though more confused than when they arrived.

None was more confused than Nathan. Unable to identify his feelings, he sat on his living room couch. Crossing, then uncrossing his legs, comfort escaped him as he replayed the events surrounding Olivia that past year. A feeling akin to horror overcame him.

He admitted that terrified was also the only feeling he could muster when first discovering Olivia. Ridding himself of her should have been his goal. But now, he desired to protect her from the outside world. From what else, he didn't know and could only imagine the worse.

Two weeks passed before Herman called. The date was set. Summer solstice was chosen. Nathan marked his calendar for June 20th.

His assumption that Ophelia already knew was confirmed as the phone rang. "A sad day indeed," Ophelia agreed, her voice hoarse. He replaced the telephone on its receiver absentmindedly. After tending to the children and providing them with seed pods, he stepped outside and stood on his front porch. His canine refused to accompany him.

Oddly enough, the animal didn't react negatively toward the children. He'd been docile ever since Olivia was discovered. In fact, he often slept near the boards leading to the cellar as if offering protection.

Nathan glanced up at the night sky that was aglow with distant bright city lights. His ears pricked as occasional sounds of animals and birds broke the night's silence.

Bleak came the weather forecast. Storms were predicted later that week. But instantly, several drops of rain landed on his cheeks. He flinched, for on his right, streaks of lightning turned the skyline white as if splitting in two and predicting what was to come.

The universe had laid out the plan for us, he reasoned. Those beyond it will strike first and take back that which was confiscated. The fact that they abandoned the children, knowing full well that humans wouldn't know or understand what they were dealing with, baffled him. But what was the end goal? he wondered, searching the stars trying to think of reasons the children were left on Earth.

For a moment he froze. In the blink of an eye, he caught a bright glow burst among the stars. A spaceship like the ones on the Friday night fright movies depicting robotic aliens.

He shook his head fervently attempting to dislodge the image and rubbed the back of his neck while a a thousand questions raced back and forth. Several long moments passed. Anger rose up from having to abide by a decision not in his best interest. The porch banister bore the brunt of his fist before he gripped it, rocking back and forth, suppressing a scream.

The next second, thoughts of wanting to flee and hide jolted through his body. The urgent sensation of things moving too quickly for him to process left his hand shaking. "I wish Matilda were here", he lamented.

Images of what-could-be flashed through his mind as he understood that his wife would have known exactly what to do. A flawed reasoning, perhaps, as he instinctively also knew that it was Ophelia who was at the core of the calamity.

Nothing worried him more than Ophelia. Even her phone call earlier left him torn as if identifying with her. Still, questions rose why she would side with him on keeping the children hidden. What benefit would she gain?

He hadn't realized how long he clenched the banister. Releasing his ashen knuckles from the rail he spotted even though nightfall, he turned and headed inside, no closer to an answer.

Now Part 12:

The moment Nathan opened the door, an intense, sickly sweet odor rushed up his nostrils, forcing him to grab hold of the couch nearby. He dragged himself to its edge and plopped down. The odor permeated the room. Not in all these months did the smell from Olivia cause such a severe reaction. But now, there were two, and he had no idea what to do that moment.

He jerked his head in the direction of the opposite wall. The calendar stared back reminding him that June 20th was only five days away.

Hundreds of alternate scenarios raced through his thoughts. Olivia. What would happen if I relinquished control? The male child wasn't mine to protect, but for some reason Olivia was his protector.

Rising quickly, he hurriedly prepared himself a late-night snack, then returned to the couch and settled in. Chewing fervently, a thought occurred. Did the answer lie in the pasture? It must, he reasoned. If I return one last time and retrace my steps. Perhaps the answer lay there. He just didn't look deep enough the first time.

Tomorrow won't be soon enough.

The date was June 16. The morning dawned without incident, Nathan rose and readied himself for the drive. Armed with his rifle, he roused the children. If answers to his question lay in the pasture, then a visit was mandatory. Slowly, he opened the cellar, and the children emerged. Was it his imagination or did the children float upward and walk toward the front door as if instinctively they knew the intent and the part they would play.

The suffocating heat was already covering the landscape. Cicadas hissed in unison in the trees. Nathan breathed in deeply the arid air. A drought is headed our way, he predicted as the land was already dry and cracked. He wondered for a moment how the children bore the holes so easily.

Nathan's pulsed raced as he drove toward the left side of his farm. Only two days remained. What if I didn't discover anything new or worthy to report to the group to prevent them from turning over the children to the authorities? This pressing question accompanied him to the pasture.

Once there, instructions were unnecessary.

Nathan watched in awe as Olivia and the male dug furiously as if instinct took control. What seemed like it would take hours to bore through the soil only took a matter of minutes. Eight feet deep the holes reached until each child quickly descended and disappeared. Nathan rushed to the edge of the hole and worriedly stared into it.

As quickly as they descended, they emerged. Nathan stared mindlessly, paralyzed by the horde of crystals the children held in their hands, with many attached to their faces. Ash covered their bodies where the crystals were embedded.

Sequentially, each child pressed the crystals to their breasts. Immediately, the sky lit up. Olivia pointed westward. On the far edge of Nathan's field and into his neighbors, dirt bubbles erupted from beneath the surface of their pasture, followed by what resembled long claws pulling the landscape into the holes. Nathan could only compare it to animals emerging after being subdued for ages.

But these were no animals. And obtaining fresh air was not their purpose.

Suddenly, the male child paused, then jerked his head around. His eyes rotated as if to search for an imminent threat. His ears pricked back as he glanced around Nathan's back from behind the large tree. Shots rang out in the distance headed toward him and the children.

A tall, thin man that Nathan didn't recognize wearing a cap and tactical gear rose up from the bushes. He ran toward Nathan at lightning speed. Nathan grabbed Olivia and the male close, then hid behind the tree.

The hunter moved in closer while firing several rounds at them.

Without hesitation, the male child eased Nathan's hands from his shoulders and moved from behind the tree. His eyes turned red as he leaped into the air and landed on the hunter with precision.

Horrified, Nathan slowly retreated, staring wide-eyed at the scene he witnessed. The male child was no longer a helpless youth. The figure transformed into an adult-sized being, standing over eight foot tall. Within minutes, the hunter's body lay lifeless, nearly devoured as if a wild bear had ripped it apart.

Nathan stood paralyzed. For the first time since discovering Olivia did he feel vulnerable. And afraid. A vicious monster now stood before him that could have easily killed him, Ophelia, Herman, and the rest of their group months ago.

The man child looked around helplessly at Nathan. Slowly, his size returned to normal. That is, what he considered "normal" was his former self resembling a child.

What just happened was inexplicable, Nathan thought, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. No time to think. he grabbed the children and headed back toward his house.

Nathan secured the children in the cellar. Grabbing a drink from his refrigerator, he stood staring out the window, rubbing his chin several times trying to determine what to do next.

The hunter on his property. Never before had he seen anyone so aggressive. From what direction the man came puzzled him. Who else knows of the children and what danger do they pose to them?

But it wasn't the children who were in danger. It was mankind, he surmised, if all the children here on Earth were provoked. Perhaps that's the reason the beings who left them here weren't worried about their survival.

No one else in our group knows about the children's capabilities, he guessed. I must warn them not to relinquish control to the authorities.

He grabbed his hat, locked his front door, then jumped into his truck and headed toward Ophelia's farm. Before he reached the edge of his property, objects lit up the skyline resembling helicopters as if patrolling for miscreants.

Immediately, he turned around in the middle of the road.

Once home, he switched on the television and stood in the middle of the living room watching what he knew would be the outcome if the children were exposed.

He'd have to warn Ophelia in the morning. But she probably already knew. There in front of his eyes he watched as the city rocked from explosions. The news report revealed little information.

"Authorities know nothing at this time, but is investigating" was the controlled message the broadcasters delivered. They continued in the vein of "you'll know when we know. In the meantime, keep calm. No need to panic. We'll need a united front. Other countries are aware of the situation and stand ready to assist."

The cryptic messages did little to calm citizens. What situation? Why a united front?

Nathan watched, scratching his head. An otherwise calm individual, he saw no need to panic. But if another country was attacking the United States, why would other countries need to provide a united front?

As quickly as the explosions began, they ceased. And the sky and everything around Nathan fell radio silent.

The television scene revealed sheer panic. Citizens gathered in the street trying to discover the cause of the explosions.

He starred mindlessly at the television, paralyzed as he watched in numbed horror, rooted to the living room floor. Outside, the rumblings grew louder. He flinched, thinking the sound of explosions grew near. Or was it the storm approaching to break the drought? He lowered the sound of the television and gulped down huge breaths in an effort to remain quiet and not alert the children. His inner voice churned through the scenario of the events beyond his front door.

I must get word to Ophelia and Herman, and find out what is happening. But they weren't answering their telephones. They have no idea the power of these beings they're dealing with. If they turn them over to the authorities, it'll be hell on Earth if the children feel threatened. He reconciled himself to sleep, but it didn't come easy. I'll try again tomorrow to reach them, he promised.

The next morning, he reached for the telephone. No service.

Heading out again down the road toward Ophelia's farm, this time he reached her home. No answer. It was unlike Ophelia not to respond.

He returned home.

A spasm of worry crossed his face. He shook it off and readied himself. With no information on what was happening in the cities and no plan as to what he was doing, he gathered Olivia and the male, then retreated into the lowest part of the mountain behind his farm. Matilda's prepping supplies were a Godsend.

There he stayed for five days.

[to be continued]

For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the @daily.prompt's publishing of 6 february 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2639: a nice illusion;

30 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2752: split in two

25 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2747: in the fold

23 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2745: global reach

9 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2731: familiar face

28 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2750: a stray bullet;

18 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2740: knowledge

6 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2728: don’t relax;

28 february 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2661: directory of lost things; and

25 february 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2658: museum of odd things

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