The Interloper- Horror Flash Fiction
They intrude, the Interlopers. My quiet abode was soundless, except for the chirping of crickets, gnawing of rats and purring of spiders.
They are here, okay. They don’t come up here, fine. I could have stayed with my unease, had they let me be. But no, they are wild those little ones, they disturb me, they talk, they laugh, they play, make noise, I hate them.
I was here before them, up here in this attic, with myself. I never needed anyone in my void, hiding in this darkness. No worries and no one, but me.
Now they intrude, ‘Where is my ball’, ‘I love you Honey’, ‘Daddy, you brought me a PlayStation’, will they ever stop, it was so peaceful. This house my dear house was a lonely house; where I was let be. I hate them, they intrude.
Should I leave from here, for they have children? Leave the home I lived in for so long. The dark, the dust, the void that was all mine, should I leave.
No! I won’t, I was here before them, this home is mine.
Last stormy moonless night, when the winds were strong and I was powerful. They had called neighbors over. ‘It’s party time’, said the man and they made such a clamor. I jumped and banged. Ah! the noises I made. I laughed, it was a good play, it was such fun.
Then they screamed. Yes, crazy wild screams, can you believe it. The people fled, not daring to look back. I smiled and saw through the cracks the merry scene. Left behind were, the interlopers.
Silence, at last, no noise, not one voice. Then, the door beneath fell and climbed the man to see. ‘What’s making the noise.’ Must be something wrong with his eyes, for I stood tall right beside him yet he couldn’t see me. ‘No-one here, it must be the storm’, he said, that fool. No-one should be here except me, interloper.
But now, they make my home boisterous, once more. Many nights have passed since, they have forgotten me, but today I feel powerful once more.
The sky is clear, no moon anymore.
The dark! The power!
Do you know what I will do tonight? What I never did before, ever since I was here. I will leave this attic.
It’s my night, let them go to sleep. It’s my time to intrude, I am now the Interloper.
Agastya is a writer and illustrator based in Delhi, who creates new worlds through his words, lines and paints. He loves listening to podcasts while he creates art and mostly writes while traveling to work. He writes stories, articles and is working on his debut fantasy novel.
