Gardens of Destruction

Jana awoke abruptly at midnight, jolted by the piercing car alarms that reverberated outside. She squinted through the partially drawn window, observing others in the neighborhood craning their necks to discern the source of the commotion.

A sensation coursed through her once more. Her heart thumped vigorously against her rib cage as an unfamiliar rumble made her ears pop. The ground quivered gently but persistently. Earthquakes were a rarity in this area, occasionally appearing with low intensity—a second or third degree on the Richter scale. She hoped fervently that this unsettling shaking had ceased now that the swaying had paused.

“Mom, I’m scared!” A tremulous voice pierced the tense atmosphere.

Standing at the bedroom door, Valentina quivered, hesitant to advance further.

Eleven years old, Valentina was expected to slumber alone—a decree from her mother, despite her yearning to snuggle. Valentina, a lively yet introverted child, grappled not only with her illness but also the agony of her father’s absence. She found it inconceivable that he no longer dwelled with them. Another woman had captivated her father’s attention, a handsome, popular figure at the university. Jana, an attractive and intellectual woman, had enchanted him with her charisma and intelligence. They once appeared blissfully content until Valentina’s arrival shattered their tranquility. His restlessness, spurred by Valentina’s ceaseless crying, led him to frequently leave the house. He adamantly refused to acknowledge his daughter’s illness or shoulder any responsibility, turning to alcohol as an escape. Though he never got inebriated, he became increasingly negligent, finding excuses to berate Jana. Hoping for reconciliation, Jana endured the escalating tension. Ultimately, he stopped returning home, declaring the next morning that he couldn’t endure the situation any longer, and abandoned them. Jana resigned herself to this departure; it was futile to protest. The passion that once united them had irrevocably dissipated.

Valentina, a mere five years old, suffered acutely. Left to her own devices and shielded from reality, she barricaded herself in her room for a month, except for necessary treatments. This solitude was her sanctuary – a fragile haven amidst the turmoil she could scarcely understand.

The distant wail of the alarms coupled with the persisting tremors unsettled the night air. An uneasy foreboding hung in the atmosphere, its weight palpable in Jana’s chest as she sought to comfort her anxious daughter. Valentina’s nightmares had increased since her father’s departure, and though Jana offered solace, the haunting fears lingered.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Jana beckoned gently. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Valentina gingerly approached her mother’s bedside, a timid shadow in the dimly lit room. “I had a bad dream, Mom,” she murmured, her voice trembling with trepidation.

“Tell me about it,” Jana encouraged, her tone soothing.

“I dreamt I was... a princess,” Valentina began hesitantly.

“A princess? That sounds wonderful! Why was it a bad dream then?” Jana inquired, attempting to unravel the perplexing conundrum of her daughter’s nightmares.

“I was in a strange world, it all still looked familiar, but different in some way. Everyone around me was deformed, ugly and scary, but I could sense they were still somehow good. It felt like they were a part of me, and I wanted to protect them from the constant pain. I was a princess, their princess, the princess of the freaks, mom!” Valentina recounted, her voice laden with distress.

“That’s just a dream, Val. It only means among all the ugly things happening in this world you’re the most beautiful thing, at least you are to me,” Jana replied, trying to reassure her daughter, though her own apprehensions lingered.

Glancing at the clock, Jana noted it was a quarter past four—a few precious moments remained for a semblance of rest before the onset of another demanding day.

***

The thing moved at great speed, a blur of light and shadow against the inky black canvas of the night sky. It streaked through the air like a silent phantom, its mission clear, its destination set. It had no master, not yet. But it was bound to obey, driven by an unseen force, a purpose beyond its understanding.

A strange four-legged creature, a with a coat of midnight black, emerged from the shadows, its senses on high alert. It let out a guttural metallic growl, a warning to the barking intruder, a defiance against the unknown. It was the first, the chosen one, the harbinger of a new era.

The thing, unfazed by the beast’s challenge, accelerated towards its target, its form growing larger, its presence more ominous. The dog, sensing the impending doom, tugged frantically at his chain, his barks echoing through the stillness of the night, a futile cry for help.

In a deafening thud, the thing struck the ground, sending tremors through the earth, disrupting the tranquility of the farmstead. The dog’s barking ceased abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence that hung heavy in the air.

Inside the farmhouse, a woman lay nestled under the warmth of her blankets, her sleep disturbed by the sudden commotion outside. A shiver of fear ran down her spine as a sense of foreboding crept into her heart. She knew something was terribly wrong.

The dog’s silence sent a wave of panic through her, and she nudged her husband, Jack, who lay beside her.

“Jack, wake up!” she whispered urgently, her voice trembling with fear.

“Go to sleep, woman,” Jack grunted, his voice thick with sleep.

“Something’s happening outside! I felt the ground shake!” she insisted, her fear growing with each passing moment.

Reluctantly, Jack rose from his bed, his body protesting against the early morning intrusion. He knew his wife’s intuition was rarely wrong, and that her fears were often justified. He had learned to trust her instincts, to heed the warnings of her heightened senses.

With a sigh, he slipped out of bed, grabbed his trusty rifle from its place on the wall, and cautiously made his way towards the door. The rifle, a comforting presence in his hand, served as a reminder of his role as protector, a shield against the unknown dangers that lurked in the darkness.

Stepping out into the frigid night air, Jack was greeted by an eerie silence that seemed to press in on him from all sides. The moonlight cast long, distorted shadows across the familiar landscape, transforming the once familiar into an unsettling tableau of the unknown.

And then, he saw it.

A towering structure, bathed in the pale moonlight, piercing the inky blackness of the sky. It rose from the ground like a colossal monolith, its furrowed surface gleaming ominously in the moonlight. The upper end was lost in the darkness, its height reaching beyond the limits of human vision.

Jack rubbed his eyes. A wave of disbelief washed over him, his mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale and grandeur of the alien object that had inexplicably appeared on his farm.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the night.

As he stood there, mesmerized by the sight, he heard a strange metallic scraping sound. Instinctively, he raised his rifle, his finger tightening on the trigger. A shot rang out, echoing through the stillness of the night. The sound was swallowed by the darkness, leaving behind an even thicker silence that settled like a shroud over the farm.