I have been thinking about my early stories that had been published in the 2010s. I was on a roll for a little while, finding opportunities to get my work out there and build an audience. The majority of my published stories appeared in independent horror anthologies, most of which were well-received by reviewers and readers, but never leading to much more than a few “great job, keep it up” type responses. I kept it up for a while, but later in the decade major life events shifted my priorities. Fortunately, I’m finding the internal motivation to return to a more proactive writing life.

“Johnny Versus the Creatures” was my first ever published story and holds a special place in my heart. I have enjoyed reading it at open mics. It appeared in the anthology Unnatural Tales of the Jackalope in 2012 put out by Western Legends Publishing, a now-defunct small indie imprint started by a friend of mine, horror writer John Palisano. I was invited to submit a story, which in turn led to me lending my graphic design skills for cover and page layout. This story opened the door to my horror writing era.

“Johnny Versus the Creatures” started out as an exercise in word economy, an axiom I’ve since taken to heart, honed, and applied to most anything I’ve touched. At the time of writing I was in the process of earning my MFA in Professional and Creative Writing, primarily focused on business communications, though short fiction was an age-old love I could not let go. Reading the story now, I feel compelled to rework it much further, tackling aspects like flow and cadence, and further integration of actions and settings. Rewriting a brand new version would be a fun exercise.

Anyway, I thought I would share this short with the Substack community. I hope you enjoy it.

by D.T. Griffith

As it had become custom every night before bed, Johnny peered out the bedroom window and looked for the creatures. He could not sleep knowing they might be circling the house. Mom and Dad never noticed them, he thought, it was his duty to protect his family. With his flashlight in hand and his dog Onyx by his side, Johnny opened the window and investigated the backyard from his vantage point.

The moon illuminated the swing set and the woods behind the house. Leaves rustled in the breeze carrying with it the scent of chimney smoke from the neighbor’s house way down the road; the backyard contained no movement. Having satisfied Onyx and himself, Johnny closed the window, climbed into bed and extinguished his flashlight. Onyx took his position across Johnny’s feet and within ten minutes, they were both asleep.

*

Bang!

The bed and floor vibrated, the windowpanes rattled. Onyx barked and jumped off the bed. Johnny rubbed his eyes and focused on a mass outside the glass. What is that? Onyx stood upright, pressing his nose against the lower windowpane and growled. Johnny screamed for Mom and Dad, but they did not respond. The window continued to rattle and Johnny aimed the flashlight at the object that had obscured the moonlight; it did not move. Dots of light reflected from a pair of small eyes staring at him. He yelled for his parents – no response. He darted to the doorway and called their names again. Nothing. Onyx continued to growl.

A loud thump came from the thing outside the window. Johnny covered his ears and shut his eyes. Chain links crashed as several claws dragged across the glass. The rattling ceased. Onyx stopped growling and barking. Johnny turned back toward the window. The object was gone; he could see the moonlight through the window again.

All was quiet. Did that happen?

Trembling, Johnny returned to his bed and tried to sleep, Onyx resumed his position on Johnny's feet.

*

Sunlight filled the bedroom waking Onyx. The dog stepped over Johnny’s chest to lick his face.

Johnny opened his eyes and noticed the windowpanes were smeared in dry mud with scratch marks. He hastened to the window; the entire yard was torn up, mounds of dirt everywhere. His swing set was on its side, a chain from a swing wrapped around a strange mass on the ground, and a pickaxe was stuck in a tree trunk. He backed away and caught his breath. The creatures were here, he thought, they got his parents! He bolted to his parents’ room; it was empty. He repeatedly yelled their names and heard no responses.

He flew down the stairs and could hear something outdoors. Digging, he thought. He checked the kitchen and the living room, no Mom or Dad.

Onyx perched himself on the stairs and growled at the front door. The doorknob twisted. Johnny stood in the foyer, one foot pointed away from the door ready to dash. Mom opened the door, catching her breath and covered in dirt. She wiped her sweat-laden hair and specs of red off her face with her forearm. She wore work gloves and held an axe smeared in wet blood. An odor of earth and decay permeated the entryway. Johnny froze.

Mom dropped the axe and knelt. She wrapped her arms tightly around Johnny, holding his head against her chest. She gestured to a dark brown lump in the yard behind her, attempting to smile.

Onyx leapt past them out the door and to the yard in one motion. The dog sniffed at the corpse; its head severed from the body. Johnny cleared the tears from his eyes and followed Onyx outside in his pajamas, studying the large rabbit-like thing Onyx was nudging, fascinated by its – antlers? This is one of the creatures, he realized. Dad’s voice called his name from behind. Covered in mud and gore, Dad was filling a hole in the ground with a spade; Johnny could see the jagged tip of another antler still protruding from the loose dirt.

A cool breeze carried the chimney smoke scent from the neighbor’s house; it was calming and refreshing. Stepping over the piles of dirt, replacing the creatures’ paw prints with his own footprints, Johnny approached his father and hugged him. He looked back as he heard his mother swiftly knock the creature’s head out of the way with the hollow thud of a shovel and watched as she proceeded to dig a hole next to the fur-covered corpse in the front yard.

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