The chore of walking Lucy often fell to Jack, the oldest of the Marr kids. He was the only one who could keep a hold of the leash when Lucy used that bionic strength in her Shepherd hind legs to make a mad dash toward a squirrel or a dog or even certain car models. Lucy had a thing for Dodge Chargers and Ford Mustangs. She was supposedly purebred, but her ears flopped, and Jack had a suspicion Lucy was no ordinary dog. Jack’s homeschool education stressed inquisitiveness (and before getting a dog, an entire semester devoted to dog breeds and dog biology), so he’d read everything about German Shepherds, and he’d come across an adoption site for failed service dogs.

They were smart, these failed dogs, just not smart enough to be K-9s. Being a creative, Jack made up an entire past life for Lucy before she came to live with his family. He was making up stories for Mrs. Griffiths’ writing class while he walked her, which was why he didn’t see the alien spaceship land on the sidewalk in front of him. Lucy went for it, like she did everything, jerking the leash right out of his hand.

The spaceship was only about a foot tall and twice as wide. Lucy sniffed it up and down, but Jack scoffed and said, “Funny joke, guys. I’m not buying it.” He figured it was Evan or Levi playing a prank on him. Maybe they’d gotten it on Amazon or they built it for the science fair.

He thought that…until the little green men stepped out. They were small as legos, but the fluidity of their movements and the way they exhaled red clouds of mist made him know they were definitely NOT toys. Still, they were small. He could practically stomp on them if he needed to. In fact, Lucy licked one and gobbled it up.

“Lucy! No.”

Too late.

Instantly, Jack was overcome by a wide beam of laser light. He felt his body vibrate like a live electric line, felt himself fall a long, long way, and the next thing he knew, the aliens were staring him down. Had they grown? No. He shrank. They shrank him. Luckily he landed on his feet. And although their heads spun round and round like turrets and their eyes spun like so many marbles, he got the feeling they were not pleased. They pointed and gestured to Lucy, who was still her own size, but in relation to him was enormous. Jack got the message: Give us back our comrade, or else.

“I can’t,” he squeaked, “Not like this.” But even tall, he knew it would be difficult to get Lucy to throw up the comrade, and who knew what state the comrade would be in? How many chomps had she taken before swallowing the little green man? Jack wasn’t sure.

They made Jack big again and waited, hands on hips. Another fact he’d learned was that a dog who swallowed something bad (like chocolate or a pillow) could be made to vomit by squirting hydrogen peroxide down her throat. “I just have to get something from home,” he said.

They didn’t understand and made him small with their laser thing. This time he landed wrong, heard a sickening crack, and felt a boiling claw of pain grip and twist his arm. As he lay on the sidewalk writhing in agony, a giant shadow blocked the sun. He looked up to see his brother, Sam, tall as Colossus.

To be continued…

True: Jack Marr broke his arm. That’s what he gave me to work with–I don’t even know how he broke it. (But isn’t this way fun?) Jack (7th grade) is a student in my 5000 Words class. Although I don’t know for sure that he’s read everything there is to know about dogs, I’m well acquainted with his tenacious work ethic. Jack’s the sort of kid you’d want by your side if you were in a bad way with aliens. Or the sort you’d want in your class. His younger brother, Sam (also in my class), asked for an MTO Horror. What could be more terrifying than being in a horror story with your little brother? Well, come back next Wednesday and find out.

Want your own MTO Horror? A new horror every Wednesday. It only takes a minute. Go HERE if you dare. After Sam’s MTO, my queue is empty. EMPTY!? Can you believe that? I’m out of victims. So send your friends or enemies my way with a fact, and I’ll give them a fright.