Scrap Metal

Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.


The prompts: This story must contain the words: nothing, basement and rifle


Scrap Metal


The rifle dropped to the ground, now that Ed Johnson was no longer there to hold it.

Two minutes earlier, the large craft had landed in front of his remote, hillside farmhouse. Loud engine sounds and bright flashing lights supported his barking dog’s assertion that there was something outside that needed immediate attention.

Ed showed up with his rifle.

He watched as a small weapon swiveled in his direction. He never saw the invisible atomic disruptor beam it emitted.

No more Ed.

Upon seeing there was nothing more he could do out front, Old Duke tucked his tail between his legs and scurried inside, eventually hiding behind some shelves in the basement. He would be safe there. In his canine mind, if he couldn’t see or smell it, it no longer existed.

A window opened up on the side of the craft, and a small orb floated out. It circled the farmhouse cautiously at first. Satisfied that there was no danger, it floated in through an open window.

That was where it ran into Thelma, the dearly departed’s better half. The shotgun blast made quick work of the orb. The heavyset woman turned and shuffled out of the house through the back entrance, grabbing a squirrel gun along the way.

From her perch behind an old stump, she pumped round after round into the large silver, cylindrical craft. It eventually appeared to give up, its lights going out and the engines shutting down.

Thelma carefully considered her situation. It was a shame about Ed. He was a good-for-nothing-lazy-bum, but she would miss him, for a while at least.

On the bright side, that thing in her front yard looked like it would make one hell of a still. Overall, a pretty good deal.

Word count 300