The Breeding Prize - Aya Morningstar Page 0,7

mess again already. There are kids playing on the train table, and there’s a pile of books near their feet.

I smile at them and wave. “Would you like me to put these books away?”

“I’m reading that one,” one of the kid says, not looking up from the train or down at the book. He is about four years old. Maybe a young five.

“Can I take the rest then?”

He smiles and nods at me.

I carefully gather the books up and put them in a neat stack so their spines are all facing the same way, and just as I’m about to put them on the cart, I catch four boys who look about the same age as the 4- or 5-year-old staring at me.

They are sitting on a little play slide, all together. All wearing the same outfit. They look almost like quadruplets, but their hair isn’t the same color. Their eyes are a very piercing shade of blue, but the most discomforting thing about them is that they are sitting much too still for four-year-olds. Even when most kids this age do sit still, it’s only for brief moments, and they are rarely just sitting and staring like this.

I wave to them, and they don’t wave back. They just smile.

A chill runs through my spine.

I catch Raiska creeping around a corner and watching me from a distance. I get the feeling he would very much like to be right behind me and breathing down my neck, but he’s worried if he does that, he’ll lose my trust.

I take another quick look at the creepy children and consider asking him to come sit near me, but I’m not going to let a few kids scare me.

I go back to shelving the books I’ve gathered, and then I start back in the “A” section and organize all the other books that the children have managed to mess up in less than two hours.

As I’m shelving, I get a bad feeling, and when I look behind me, the four boys are right behind me.

I try to ask them if they need help, but my voice catches in my throat and cracks. I try again, and my voice comes out in a thin and creaky whisper. “Do you need help finding something?”

“We found it,” the red-headed one says, a big smile filling his face.

“Yes,” the blonde one says, “isn’t it nice?”

“The fertile prize,” the dark-haired one says, and his eyes glow a color I’ve never seen before.

Before my fear can even fully register, they aren’t children anymore. They are tiny little things with sickly-green skin. They look almost like goblins, but not everything about them is tiny. Their dicks are hard and erect, and they are bigger than any human’s dick.

I jump back, but I’m up against the bookshelf. I scream, and other parents and kids start screaming too when they see the disgusting little things.

Just as one of the little goblin aliens gets its hands on me, Raiska appears behind them.

He’s big and blue again. His horns are tall and sharp, and he’s holding a scythe. It’s the same non-colors as the orb from earlier, and it’s glowing almost as bright as his eyes.

He slashes his scythe and cuts the head off of the little goblin thing that got a grip on my arm.

The others hiss and scream as if they had been cut. They jump away from me and onto Raiska.

One bites into the flesh of his neck. It digs its long, sharp nails into Raiska’s hand. the other bites into his arm and grabs hold of the scythe.

Everything around us is utter chaos. People are coming to see what is happening, taking one look, and running away screaming. The children have all run away. I absently hope that they will manage to find their parents.

Raiska grabs hold of the one on his neck. He tries to get his scythe around, but the one holding his arms digs more nails into his forearm, and I see the nails poke out the other end. The little monstrous thing has completely skewered Raiska’s flesh with its nails. Blood is gushing out everywhere and staining the already stained carpet.

I watch in frozen horror. I’m on the ground trembling. My back is pressed up against the bookshelf. I watch as Raiska claws at, punches, and tries to head butt the little things. The third one is tearing into his leg and ripping skin off in sheets.

This is all my fault. I should have believed him. I