It has been a yearly ritual ever since they were born, a ritual that grew more and more dangerous with each passing year. In the beginning it was something they looked forward to. Now it was torture for the three of them.
Last year was their biggest and most dangerous ritual. They were afraid of having to relive those memories, those haunting, disturbing memories that kept them up at night.
This year, they were planning ahead; they were going to survive by any means possible.
The trio of children prepared themselves for the approaching threat. Equipped with small medical face masks and wrapped in their favorite blankets for extra protection, they all headed for the living room.
Loud chatter was coming from all over—the kitchen and dining area, the backyard, the even the front porch was abuzz with conversation. As they came down the steps they quickly picked up on their target.
Leon came to a sudden halt and raised his hand, signaling his siblings to stop. He pulled down his mask to speak, keeping his voice low.
“There’s our target, troops. Grandma Jocelyn.”
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Copyright © 2019 by Luka Tatsujo
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