The hole appeared suddenly one night while Shane and Amanda were preparing dinner. Amidst the sizzle of frying sausages and occasional clamoring of dishes, there was a crash and a rumble and a giant hole from what they could see when they went down to check.
“Son of a bitch,” Shane cussed.
“What happened?” Amanda asked in disbelief.
Officer (Kyle) Yates noticed the giant, deflated snowman in the front yard before checking the house numbers. This was the house. He hated those oversized, inflatable decorations about as much as he hated anything about the winter – the slick ass ice, the back breaking snow that starts out all glittering like diamonds but ends up black and bruised as half the sorry souls he comes across on this damned job, the nonstop marketing of Christmas that starts too soon, ends too late, and never leaves but maybe a moment to actually celebrate. But this house was different. Two story, cobble stone, attached double garage, tended garden beds carefully put to rest and little bushed tucked into neatly tied burlap sacks. Meticulous. Everything except that damn plastic puddle of a tacky, artificial snowman. He knocked on the door.
Amanda wanted to call the police, or the electric company, or someone to investigate the hole and explain what happened. Isn’t that what you do? Don’t you call someone when a five foot hole opens up inside your basement wall? But Shane was all hero, all action, all man in charge, got this covered. He went after his flashlight and headed towards the gaping mouth of darkness.
“There’s no need to call anyone. I’ll check it out, see if there’s any major damage and patch it up. By Monday it will be good as new. If there’s a busted pipe or foundation damage, we’ll call. But I’m not paying to have someone come out here to yank my chain, overcharge the landlord, and then spike up our rent. We have a good deal here. Landlords like quiet renters and I like quiet landlords. My dad did foundation work for fifty years, I grew up mixing cement.” Kyle insisted.
The darkness was almost absolute. Amanda thought she saw something like the faintest line of a tree root and two small yellowish-white glowing eyes a top it. “I think there’s something in there. Kyle, be careful.” And in he stepped. It was the last she ever saw of him.
(Unfinished, still a work in progress…)