-oOo-
The day started much like the previous twelve thousand or so; the dog had been fed, the husband had been sent off to work with a package of tuna sandwiches and looking out of the kitchen window let her know that the overnight wind had done a top notch job of stripping the autumn leaves from the trees.
She pottered around, tidying a little here, dusting a little there, until the postman arrived with her cards. There were a few more than there usually were, which brought a smile to her face and she sat lazily with a mug of tea, opening them one after another, carefully checking each one for money before arranging them on the few empty spaces she could find.
Turning on the TV, she was greeted by static, the same with the radio; the computer worked, but refused to connect to the Internet, she shook her head, sighed and picked up her knitting. It was going to be one of 'those' days, she could tell.
The droning noise had been going on for several minutes before it broke through the repetetive 'Knit one-Purl one-Knit two together' mantra that both her lips and hands were moving to. It sounded something like the noise that an old fashioned tin spinning top would make, a sort of mechanical whooshing noise, mixed with a low rumbling. At first she wondered if her upstairs neighbour was re-starting his experiments to make a 'real girlfriend' from common household items, and he'd gotten around to practicing with the hoover hose, but she slowly realised that it was coming from outside.
She hadn't even managed to move the net curtains out of the way before she heard the first scream. It was the woman from across the road and, whilst hearing her scream was nothing new, seeing her pointing up into the sky whilst she was doing it was certainly a twist. She craned her neck and looked up into the cloudless autumn sky, but she could see nothing.
She assumed that the screaming woman had just finally snapped, it'd been coming for a while in her opinion, what with her feral kids and the estranged alchoholic husband. and she was just about to sit back down and concentrate on a particularly difficult double-decrease when she saw the flash from the first explosion, followed a second or so later by its sound, then the badly fitted panes of glass in her front windows rattled alarmingly.
It was then that the shadow fell over her front garden, its harshly curved edge indicating that whatever was blocking out the sun was large, and round. Pausing only to grab a handful of the Size 6 stiletto point needles from her knitting bag and to roll up a tea-towel and wrap it around her head in the style of a bandana, she ran to the front door, took a deep breath and flung it open.
Directly above her was a giant, floating disk, about a hundred yards across. It was barely above the rooftops and she could see movement through the brightly lit, downwards facing windows. As she stared, a bright, red beam of light shot from the disk and destroyed the nearby multiplex cinema, the rising column of smoke matching the one already streaming from the Rolls-Royce factory just down the road.
As she watched, the disk descended, its rapidly rotating edge grinding against one of the houses further down the street until it cleared itself a space wide enough to land in. The sudden eerie silence echoed for a few moments along the row of houses, until a large ramp opened on the vehicle and a cloud of steam, or possibly smoke, billowed out.
Then the monstrocity appeared, he was at least eight feet tall in his stocking feet. She thought it was odd that someone who was so obviously a seasoned galactic conqueror would be wearing stockings, but years of watching Star Trek had taught her that you shouldn't judge aliens by their appearances. He roared at the top of his lungs, brandished a wickedly sharp axe and charged at her.
At the last moment, she ducked, and the alien launched itself, axe swinging, into the space where she had been. She stabbed upwards with the knitting needle and caught him in the chest, immediately increasing the volume of his roar and spattering herself with warm green ichor. He careened into the previously screaming neighbour, who was squashed against her gatepost like a bug by his studded shoulderpads. Looking down at the wooden implement sticking out of his armour in disgust, he pulled it out with a wet, sucking sound and threw it on the ground.
She heard another echoing roar from behind her, and threw two more needles, one from each hand. The doglike squeals told her that they had both been direct hits. She snuck a peek and saw two slightly smaller specimens clutching desperately at their eyes. Turning her attention back to her original target, she plunged two needles, crosswise into the knot of her teatowel, and beckoned the monster forward.
He roared and charged again, oblivious to any kind of tactics and raised his axe. She flic-flac'd her way towards him, and planted both feet into his midriff. He fell heavily back and she landed astride him, grabbed the needles from her hair and jammed them into his ears, slapping them home with the flat of her hands. His roar turned into a gurgle, which in turn quietened to a hiss, and the sound died with him, as his red eyes rolled back into his head.
The spinning top hum started up behind her, and the saucer lifted itself unsteadily into the air, passed over her head and disappeared into the clouds. She realised that she'd been holding her breath, and let it out with a long, relaxed sigh. Examining the side of the alien's head, she wondered momentarily about retrieving her needles, but seeing the green slime that was slowly dripping from them, she thought better of it. There would probably be more on eBay, and thinking of eBay, she picked up his axe, and dragged it across the road, its edge sparking on the tarmac.
Once she had made herself another drink, she sat down at the computer. The Internet was working perfectly now and she logged into eBay and started to type:
As New: Space Zombie Axe, One Previous Owner, No Reserve, Buyer Collects. Please see my previous auctions for other Space Zombie weaponry and armour. New items listed Every Monday.
She added a couple of photographs and listed it, then searched for more needles to replace the ones she'd lost. Although there was a week until the next scheduled attack, the Post Office could be a bit hit and miss where deliveries were concerned.
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