“Did you hear about what was going on in Oxford during the night?” the shop owner asked as I was getting some fruit for breakfast.
“I didn’t. What’s going on?” I asked curiously.
“I’ve gathered from the townsfolk that there are creatures that come out at night when everyone is inside. These creatures show up suddenly and steal things that weren’t put away. Apparently, just last night, they stole from a fruit market. Everything was gone!”
Now this has me curious…
“I know how much you like to write about strange things in your journal. This might be something you should look into, Kate,” the shop owner suggested.
Oxford wasn’t far from where I lived. I traveled to the fruit market that was raided by those creatures to inquire what was taken and what was left behind. Surprisingly, they took only watermelons and cantaloupe.
I purchased those fruits and left them outside the market to draw the creatures in. I sat on a roof that overlooked the market. Soon, a shockingly fluffy and vibrantly yellow creature walked slowly up to the fruit. He had a round body, feathers and fur all over, antennas that turned in different directions (probably to orient itself), and what looked like owl eyes that could see in the dark. With two legs and arms, he grabbed the watermelon and cantaloupe, positioned them on both sides of his body, and ran away. The interesting thing is that he changed to red once he gathered the fruit.
I jumped down from the roof and followed the fuzzy little ball to see where he was hiding. I just missed him hopping into the forest, but I continued after him and finally reached a cave. I carefully peered into this cave and saw little green eyes coming towards me. The creature smiled and handed me a broken piece of watermelon, and then retreated silently back into the cave.
By W.A. McCauley, Edited by: Jensen Bauer
W.A. McCauley is a Technology Director for a small-town school. He is the author, of the most recent, and first book, Federal Magic of Investigation. He had a calling to be a writer after high school, coincidently; he didn’t enjoy writing for a purpose then but enjoys writing fiction now.