BlameThePixel!

I thought you guys might like another random story. So, from the creator behind Master of Nothing, I present to you...

THE HOLE IN THE HEDGE

The sun rose over a distant hill, casting an orange glow onto a patchwork of fields that sparkled with frost and shimmered from the early arrival of a layer of pure, white snow. It was a quaint sight coupled together with the peaceful sound of muffled nothing. Life forms of all kind were nestled in their nests, huddled in their holes and even buried in their beds to escape the agonising tacky monotone the bedside alarm was voicing out along with the flashing digits that clearly wanted the person to know that it was seven O’clock.

The day was so picturesque, in fact, that if a hitchhiker had trekked up the distant hill the sun had been hiding behind he would have dropped his rucksack in gormless amazement. It was something that even a talented artist would find baffling to paint.

To put a long story short, it was too quaint. It was the calm before the storm, the withdrawal before the tsunami.

To the complete unawareness of any animal whatsoever, a lonely tree towering above the otherwise straight hedge let out a warning to its buddies. How they do it is partly a mystery. Why they do it is comparably worse. Why send out a warning when the rest can’t do anything about it anyway? But the tree did so, in the form of a scent that only trees of its kind would pick up, warning them of fire.


“Damien, get up!�

Damien’s legs instantly froze as the cosy cover was whipped off his bed by a bear-like hand.

“Dad! I was getting up!�

“You're lying there like you had swallowed half a bottle of vodka! I’ve gotta drive you to school; the bus company is skiving off again.�

Damien reached for his glasses, knocking the digital alarm clock off his rickety bedside-table as he did so. His dad picked it up and slammed it back on the table with out much thought about priceless furniture.

Two minutes later Damien stumbled groggily out of his bedroom and half fell down the cold, wooden stairs onto the colder brick floor off the entrance hall, jumping back from the door to the kitchen just before it was flung open by the same bear-like hand. Another hand thrust a plate of toast into his chest, reviving the same bruise from yesterday.

“Your bags by the front door. Here.�

A bag was thrown into Damien’s other hand. Slinging this over his back, he starting munching at the toast and followed his dad out of the heavy front door into the cold, glistening morning.


The tree smelted into burning ash like wrapping paper in a small log fire. The bull screamed down the field, eyes lashing out hellish flames into the air, smoke pouring from its nostrils with every snort, fire bellowing from its hooves leaving a trail of smouldering grass and steam. Gaining speed, the monster smashed through a hedge-bound tree as if it was paper, reducing it to ash and embers that erupted into the sky behind the thing. It was twice the size of a bull and as black as night. Nothing escaped its skin, which clashed with the brilliant red fury of its eyes. Every so often flames erupted from its nose, eyes and mouth, covering the body in a fireball. Insects fled in vein. Nothing lived through the stampede.

This was a shame for the local farmer, whose house was directly in the beast’s way.


“Dad, did you light another bonfire last night?�

“No, don’t be stupid.� Replied his dad impatiently as he wrestled with the frosted door handle of his van.

“Well someone did. It’s in the next field.�

“Damien I don’t have time for…�

His father froze as he stared fixedly at the roaring flames that grew in size behind the hedge that separated the small field that he had converted into a sort of parking lot for his machinery.

“What in blazes…�

The hedge started smouldering, and then burst into flames. The ground started vibrating to the rhythm of hooves. Big hooves.

“Damien, get my shotgun.�

“I think it’s in the car…�

A huge hand went straight through the windscreen of the car boot, retracting with a large double-barrelled shotgun in its grasp.

“Get behind me and alert me of anything that you think I haven’t seen� ordered Damien’s father.

The hedge was burning with a ferocious heat that Damien could now feel on his face. Steam rose from the field in clouds. The ice melted away from the car and started lifting into the air as well. Through the mist the sound of hooves was very distinct now, and so was the sound of very loud snorts.

The hedge exploded, and something moved like a bullet down the field towards them. The temperature rocketed. His father shouted something inaudible above the comotion and hauled Damien into the car. Through the hazing mist he saw his Dad throw himself into the front seat and fire his shotgun wildly. The van lurched with the help of a guttering, new engine. The creature roared. Flames erupted from everywhere before the car burst through a hedge and onto the road. Behind them, the farmhouse exploded.

Damien got up from the foot well of the passenger seat and attempted to look through grubby, steamed up glasses.

“Damien, get the hell out!�

Without any thought Damien through open the car door and pelted after his dad. They had run a few hundred yards down the road before there was a second explosion and the burning wreckage of the ford escort was lifted into the air on a pillar of flames.

With quiet innocence, a hubcap rolled its way down the road and hit Damien on the shin, who was in so much shock that he didn’t take the blindest bit of notice about it.

Father and son stood in the middle of the road on a hot, wintery day, staring at the straight line of flames and wreckage that decorated the skyline.