Creature of Unknown Origin


Creature. House. Painting. File. Blue Ink.

Was Spencer the person I should be hiding from? Or were there really worse people looking

for me, like he claimed?

I gravitated toward the park in the center of town. My eyes squinted against the brightness

of the morning sun. Across the park, the sunbeams gleamed, sparkling off of the sleek black paint

of Spencer’s truck parked on the street outside the bakery.

With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on a park bench to watch the building and see if it really

was Spencer’s or not. My bones knew with an unshakeable certainty that it was. Who else would

be inside that bakery before it even opened?

A shadow crept closer out of the corner of my eye. I barely turned my head to see what it

was, happy to see it was only a jogger about to set off on their morning run. The woman stopped

at the bench a few paces from mine and began to stretch.

My eyes flitted back toward the bakery. Even from here, I could see how the door

shuddered as a figure, or rather Spencer, yanked it open and let it slam closed. The moment his

eyes landed on me, I knew. His posture completely changed, like he’d been shocked by a bolt of


I almost waved, but another figure exited the bakery. Their sleek, dark hair told me it was

Delia. She grabbed Spencer, tugging on his arm, hurriedly pointing across the street — at me. My

lips twisted into a frown as I watched the frantic woman and the way her words seemed to sink

into a rigid Spencer.

The jogger loomed closer to me, a vague silhouette in my peripheral vision. Ice crept into

my veins instantly. Delia hadn’t pointed at me, but at the supposed jogger.

I sprang from the bench, almost in flight with how quickly I fled from the woman. At the

same time, Spencer broke out into a sprint, barreling toward me, with Delia hot on his heels.

Compelled, I glimpsed over my shoulder. Instead of the woman, my eyes saw the gleaming eyes

of the monster from my nightmare. I blinked, and the monster disappeared, replaced by the all-

too-real image of a human rushing after me with a similar thirst in her eyes.

“Ava, duck!” Spencer swiped his arm to the side , and I darted in the direction he’d


My eyes locked on a trash can, and I dove behind it without a second thought, taking cover.

The shot that rang through the air was quiet, known only to those who bore witness to it. Barely

Made with FlippingBook Online newsletter