"Help me, Ow, Ow! " he cried, seeing his brother coming in the room.
"What happened ? Are you OK?"
"No! Ouch, I'm sorry" Mark blubbered " I didn't mean it, I didn't know" Mark was making no sense, but it was clear he was hurt and afraid. As soon as Randy entered the room, a bright light flashed, with a popping sound, before his face, Randy felt a stinging burn on his cheek.
"Damnit, Ow! What was that?" this caused Mark to squeal ,
"Look out, they will get you, they have weapons"
It was a flash of movement that caught Aaron's eye. He saw something moving rapidly, by the base of his bed, it took a quick dive out of sight.
"Did you see that" he asked. Randy who was rubbing his cheek, shook his head. Then there was another movement, caught in the corner of his eye, this time on his desk. There was something there, and then it was gone.
"What happened? What's going on?" Randy wanted to know.
"Hey! Look there, by the bed" both boys saw something run under it. It gave Aaron a start.
"I saw that, what was it?" Randy's cheek was sore, as if someone slapped it with something gritty.
"I'm going to take a look" said Aaron, dropping to his knees to get low enough to peek under the bed.
"Nooo, don't do it, they can hurt you, they have knives, sharp knives" cried Mark. Aaron thought twice, and stood back up.
"Who does? What are you talking about?" asked Randy
"the soldiers, Randy's soldiers" said Mark in a shaky voice, " they're alive, and they cut me, it hurts! Ow ow ow I'm bleeding."
"My soldiers?" asked Randy
"Yeah, I was taking some clay out..Aaaah! look over there! On the bookshelf!" Aaron heard another pop, and something scratched his ear.
"There, between those two large book's" Randy pointed. A figure jumped behind the paperbacks. It was small, it was very fast, and it was dangerous.
"It's got a rifle!"
Pop, Randy felt a stinging on his ankle. Something was shooting from below.
"Ouch!" he said, grabbing his ankle, then he pointed, "Aaron, your face is bleeding"
"I know" said Aaron angrily, "We are being ambushed by your damn toys" He ran over to the bookshelf, and started pulling books off the shelf, they fell noisily to the floor. He reached behind one of the big books, then quickly pulled away, something jabbed his hand, a fresh stream of blood, gushed from a deep cut on his index finger.
"Ouch, damn!" he said, putting his cut finger to his mouth. The blood tasted salty.
"That's Enough!" he yelled, finding his tennis racket by the desk. He grabbed it, and holding it by the racket end, poked the handle at the books standing on his bookshelf. As they fell, a figure jumped off the shelf, and using a rope, repelled to the shelf below it. Randy and Aaron stared as the figure in plain view turned, aimed it's rifle at Randy's face, and opened fire.
"Duck!" Randy felt a stinging on his shoulder.
"It's my jungle fighters! They are real! They're alive!"
Aaron, who had backed up close to the bed, suddenly felt a sharp jab. A fighter had stabbed his heel.
"There's one under the bed" he said, checking the cut on his foot, "and there is one on the bookshelf. How many damn soldiers were there in the cupboard Mark?" Mark was crying for himself, his brother and his brothers friend, he was still standing on the bed.
"Five, there were five fighters" he sobbed.
"Look, there, on the bed" said Randy, fear starting to sound in his voice. "under the covers by your brothers feet, something moved" Randy pointed to the jumble of blankets.
"Ow Ow Ow, get it away, kill it, get it away!" Mark cried. Aaron stretched the end of the tennis racket handle to the covers, A flash of light, a loud pop, and a rough kickback knocked the racket out of Aaron's hand.
"That must have been a hand grenade, like what got me in the face" said Randy.
"Hand grenades? That's great! I've had enough of this" Aaron said angrily, he grabbed his pillow and swatted the blanket roughly. Feathers started to fly out from the pillow. It was slashed, as if a razor had been taken to it. Aaron struck again and again, each time harder. As he lifted the pillow, he saw the bayoneted rifle go flying across the bed. The five inch tall figure took a dive across the sheets to retrieve it. Aaron seeing that the soldier had lost it's weapon, made a grab for him. He caught the . figure by the legs, in his right hand, it snarled. There was more popping from the shelf behind.
"He's covering for his friend!" said Randy, who picked up the racket, and pushed a stack of books off the shelf, the soldier on the bookcase lost his balance, and fell to the floor.
"Kill him, Kill them all!" screamed little Mark. "Step on it!"
Aaron looked at the squiggling figure in his grasp. He held the soldier tightly, with its legs in his grip. It was warm, and struggling with all it's might.
"I've got you now" said Aaron, who was angry, hurt and bleeding.
"Damn you, you little bugger!" the figure stopped squirming, and deftly drew his knife from out of it's holder, on his belt. Just for a second Aaron watched transfixed the little man in his hand. The soldiers eyes glowed with an expression of hatred that startled Aaron. The soldier was about to rip the fleshy skin, between Aaron's thumb and index finger, with it's sharp dagger, when Aaron instinctively raised the figure in his hand, above his head,
"No you don't" he said, and dashed it onto the sharp edge of his work desk. As it thwacked, a thin spray of blood, erupted from what had been the soldiers head, and the figure went limp in his hand. It was dead! They could be killed. continue reading