By Susi J Smith
Sandra led the policeman through her neighbour’s cluttered hallway. Newspapers rose from floor to ceiling, their even stacks narrowing the small space.
The body lay on a ruby rug. Grey skin scratched red, fingernails torn.
The officer stepped forward, crouching down. Sandra stepped back, watching the couch.
Creatures crept out. Grey bodies without limbs. Silently, they slid up black shoes and well-pressed trousers, covering the black uniform.
The officer screamed, his body smothered. He fell. Dead on the rug.
The army breezed back under the couch.
Sandra sighed. “I told him the dust bunnies would take over if he didn’t clean.”
Fabulous. I laughed . . . dirtily.
Damn bunnies will get ya every time! Good story.