YHaY: The Human Convict

Wherever I woke up, it sure as hell was dark. I groaned with disgust as I could feel the dried mud on my skin crumple with each stir. I pushed myself up with my forearm and leaned on the other before I hit my head on something. I rolled over, confused. Above me were thick wooden support beams, not but two feet above me.

Oh, right. The crawlspace. I rolled back onto my stomach and began to crawl towards the pried-open lattice. Through the hole, I could see only a thick blue mist covering the grassy clearing. At least the rain had stopped, I guess.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed the soft clacking sound moving about the floorboards above me. The sound kind of reminded me of someone walking around in sturdy-as-hell work boots. The walking would be above me for a moment, then stop, then move to another part of the house, then stop.

I heard a teeny metallic clank on the floor, and for the first time in perhaps a day, I heard someone speak.

“Darn it.” A deep, gravelly male voice said, so quietly I nearly didn’t hear it. The walking continued to another part of the cabin, and then I heard the sound of running water. Then, he walked back over.

Well, shit. Someone did live here. I should probably leave while I have the chance. I’d just stuck my head out of the hole when a rush of wind, followed by footsteps met my ears. I panicked, pushing myself back inside. I covered my mouth with my hands to muffle my breathing, and the sound of gravel shuffling sounded closer, and onto the porch above.

There was a knock on the door, and the attendant approached and answered.

“How can I help officer?” The gruff voice answered. Shit. Shit. SHIT. SHIT! Somehow they’d tracked me down already. No idea how, they’d taken my phone into evidence about a year ago-

“Mister Oak? I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident that happened in Canterlot last week.” An unfamiliar voice said. The fuck is a Canterlot? Must be far from Tallahassee.

“I sure have.” The tenant replied, somberly. “Well, as much as they’re telling us. I sure hope everything is okay up there.”

“We have Royal Orders to be on the lookout for any rogue humans. The only problem is they aren’t like your normal humans.”

“Like the rabid ones that attacked?”

“Er, kinda. Here.” There was a rustle of paper. “We’ve been posting these nearly everywhere, but I was worried about some of you more rural folk.”

What the hell? Why were these guys talking about people like that? Sure, I was relieved they didn’t mention the words “convicted” or “murderer”, but there was still a gross, nauseous feeling in my gut.

“Terran humans? What in Tartarus is that?” The occupant asked.

“It’s a term the higher-ups use for only certain kinds of humans. Not too sure, myself. All their traits are listed right there. I’d be locking up your axes when you’re not using them, Mister Oak.”

“Good idea. Just come to one of you fellas if I see one?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be headed off around the rest of the neighborhood to let them know. You take care, now.”

“Have a good rest of your day, officer.” The house’s occupant stepped back inside, and the officer stepped off the porch.

I didn’t hear him walk away, however. I heard him take a few steps, sure, but I only heard a loud sort of flapping noise, almost like a large bird flying off. Shit, maybe he did walk away– I could have been sitting under the house too long, breathing in god-knows-what.

I almost made my way back through the trellis when the occupant opened the door again, this time stepping off the porch and onto the gravel path. He coughed, and I could hear him walk further out onto the path, and I heard the light clinking of small metal pieces. There was a dragging sound across the pebbles.

Finally, out of the trellis, I could see a cart being pulled by a horse. The contents of the cart were strange. It seemed to be a large pile of blackish overgrowth, perhaps burnt. Also strange was the little gray horse pulling it.

It was small, like a pony. It was a little pudgier than any I’d seen, but still weirdly rigid looking. I had to suppress a laugh when I saw the little guy was wearing a blue bandana around his neck and a brown hat over his ears. But I froze when I noticed something.

As it made its way down the path, I realized no man was steering the horse. Then the horse stopped, looking back at the house. The damn thing had a mustache. Not to mention, large eyes, almost like an alien. And I swear to god, it was looking right at me– if not the hole in the trellis– with a frown, as though thinking.

My blood ran cold, and I froze, unable to do anything but stare back. Then, after a minute, he turned his head back down the path and continued on his way.

I didn’t care what the fuck was happening, what just happened, or what was going to happen next. All I knew was that I had to get out from under that porch and away from this place.