***

Time: OHG 14 ; 800th grain ; Early 3rd Pool

Dimension: Shorehopper

Target Designation: SX-23-HF

______________________________

Her breath was misting in the cold winter evening. She was well clothed, layer after layer. She had outerwear fit for Antarctic expeditions and it proved a bit too much.

Sweat dripped down her back and trailed into her underwear. In her hurry to leave, she had left a baggy t-shirt on, instead of her proper sports clothes, which didn’t prevent scenarios like these.

The evening was cold, but there was some warmth in the air. The city street was filled with light, it was Christmas time. Last minute shoppers lined the streets with varying degrees of stress.

One man was hobbling and wobbling along with his hands full of presents. Exactly as one would see in comic books, in this case like Donald Duck. They almost collided and she had to swerve out of the way.

A basketball rolled to her feet. She saw a few kids waving at her, apparently playing in this coldest of weather. She threw the ball but the throw was short and off direction.

The kids laughed and one waved as a thanks.

She wished one of them would slip on the icy court.

A mother was dragging along her offspring after her. Walking too fast for their little feet to keep up, they almost tripped a few times and she couldn’t help but instinctively reach for the falling children.  

Thankfully they didn’t fall, she had other things to worry about.

The world was cold around her, but in her pocket, there was something burning to the touch. Yet it was impossible to let go of.

Thinking about losing the little parcel, with whatever the researchers had found under the ice, filled her with dread.

Another drop of sweat ran down her back, dodging the seam of her pants and again absorbed by her underwear. Her body was working against her, she wondered was it the poison taking effect or was she just scared.

She spotted the location for the dead drop right in front. It was beside a familiar red fire hydrant,  a plastic Santa taller than her stood smiling. He was all too happy to receive the parcel into his jacket pocket.

If she got the antidote and didn’t die, the plastic santa’s smile would haunt her dreams, be the constant reminder of what she had done. Of what she got for it.

She rummaged in the other pocket of the plastic Santa and to her relief found a vial inside. She clutched it tight, putting it in her own pocket and quickly scurried away.

In the first alley after Santa, she drank the vial of viscous antidote. Closed her eyes and promised to never do this again.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Even inside the thick clothing, she felt cold, yet sweat fell from her nose.

Her breath didn’t come. She clawed at her throat, but it was in vain.

‘Why did I promise to never do this again,” She thought as her body was failing.  

With one last beat of her heart, she slumped down behind a trash can.

______________________________________________

***

***

***

Time: OHG 14 ; 800th grain ; Early 3rd Pool

Dimension: Fahrenheit

Designation: RB-58-HM

_____________________________________

A cold winter evening in a street full of lights. It was the jolly time of year, Christmas.

He checked to see if the scarf was covering his face properly. He didn’t want to be recognized, it was hard enough being this tall.

His looks were easily distinguishable, the scarf covering his face and a knit cap hiding his bushy hair. This was the most he could do with the time he had.

One thought pained him when walking through the bustling street. His hat he had put in countless hours to make, would have to be discarded. It wasn’t the worst thing going on today, but the one he was thinking of.

He was in good shape, in an extraordinary one even. His muscles all lean and very mean, there weren’t many men or women in this world who could say they were in better shape than him.

Still, his breath had a rasp to it. Something was clogging his throat.

It tickled in the back of his throat and he started heaving. Nothing came up. ‘Figures,’ he thought. He had tried to puke it up, whatever the thing was inside of him.

In the morning he had spotted something moving inside of his throat. He called the emergency number to ask for help. It wasn’t the emergency number that answered. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead when he thought about that voice.

It was too sweet. Shivers ran down his spine as he remembered the words.

“Your silence is imperative. Your life secondary to the one inside of you.” The voice had said and the call disconnected. He didn’t believe it at first, but for every number he called, he got the same message.

It finally sank in when he entered his bathroom. The mirror had a post-it note on it, it sat there in all its pink non-threatening glory.

It had the first two sentences and instruction on where to bring the life inside of him.

Here he was, walking down the busy Christmas street. A last-minute shopper with his arms full of presents walked towards him. The shopper veered to the side, walking around the one with two lives.

A basketball rolled to his feet. He picked it up with his big hand grabbing it from above. Looked around and saw a group of kids waving at him. Behind them a court, with the basket at an awkward angle but it was possible.

He bounced the ball a few times and in perfect form jump shot it draining it with a swish. The kids stood in disbelief glaring at the tall man. In a second they erupted into a cheer and ran towards him.

Shit, he had forgotten what he was doing. He ran away with all the speed he could muster, almost bumping into a woman with two children.

He breathed out in relief. The children didn’t follow.

There it was, the plastic Santa, where he would be rid of this menace and be able to forget about it. The post-it note promised him freedom after this since his life was of no importance.

His hands were shaking as they reached for Santa's pocket. He stopped as the thing was moving in his throat. It hadn’t moved this much before, the note was telling the truth it would get out here.

He did as told, found the pocket, closed his eyes and opened his mouth halfway inside.

As he opened his mouth something pressed his jaws wider, slippery and tasteless it passed. He was about to close his jaws when an itching sensation left him screaming.

He screamed only in his mind, he couldn't’ make a single sound. The itch was all the way to his stomach, something thin and hairy pulled through his food tract. He was breathing in short bursts and with a single swish, the feeling was gone.

Eyes closed as hard as he could he struggled to straighten himself. He didn’t open them till he had turned around. His face was full of drool and something he didn’t even want to know what it was.

He pulled his scarf back up covering his face and ran into the closest alley. Behind his dreary eyes, an inkling of a relieved smile lived.

It was over, he had survived. He wouldn’t forget but would live. He began walking towards his home, which he would sell. He couldn’t live in that place anymore.  

At the end of the alley he stopped, eyes opened wide. He shivered and put a hand to his throat.

It moved.

____________________________________