The ponds are empty, and all the geese are here. The shrill shrieks of terror broke the silence of the crisp Hallows Eve air. Children wailing. Windows breaking. Bread bins smashing. The wrath of Megoosa was upon them.
….
“Dad, why are we out here?” Charlie asked.
"Well, I think it's time you became a part of our family Halloween tradition," he said, setting a large black case down on the forest floor before continuing. "Generations of fathers and sons have bonded through the art of hunting.”
Charlie hesitated, "Hunting?”
"Don’t worry, son. It's just one duck; no one will miss it."
"Their kids might," Charlie grumbled.
After a few seconds had passed, Charlie's father retrieved an old-fashioned hunting rifle from its case. The gun was quite lengthy and had a shiny brown finish. The leather strap was cracked and worn, the black scope was scratched, and dust had infested every nook. Charlie raised an eyebrow, asking, "Is that even safe to use? It looks like it might jam and blow my hand off.”
Charlie's dad ignored the statement and placed the leather strap over Charlie's head. Charlie could see his dad wasn’t going to give up. He got the gun comfortable in his hands. “I'll just have to miss,” Charlie thought.
“Charlie, look.” His dad's excited whisper brought him back from his thoughts.
A small brown-headed duck, with a body of mixed greys and blacks and a peachy chest, emerged from behind a shrub a short distance away. Its underside was white, and its eyes were black and shiny. The duck announced its presence with a small, high-pitched "woo-woo!"
Charlie's face dropped. The small duck waddled over the tree roots of the forest floor, playfully flicking leaves and playing with sticks as it sauntered, blissfully unaware. Charlie felt his dad nudge him, prompting him to aim. Charlie's chest felt heavy. He aimed for the bush but was terrified his shaking would make him hit the poor thing. The sound of his pleading filled his head, hoping to miss. A jolt pressed the butt of the gun into Charlie's shoulder, and the sound of the shot barged its way through the tranquillity of the wood. Charlie's whole body relaxed when the duck flapped its wings, startled by the noise, before dashing back into the shrubs. “Ah, not to worry, son. I think you still hit something.”
Charlie's tenseness re-emerged at his dad's statement. Wide-eyed, he watched his dad move towards the bushes. “It…a goose?” his dad stuttering with his words.
“Are you happy now?” Charlie shouted over.
“It was never meant to be a goose.”
Charlie tilted his head in confusion. His dad returned, taking back the gun, before urgently muttering that they must leave. The car ride was quiet. Charlie felt a feeling of unease climb up his spine as his dad drove faster than usual. His dad didn't even bother to get into the driveway before taking the keys out of the ignition. When inside, the door was locked and bolted, the curtains drawn, and the lights off. “Dad, you’re freaking me-”
Charlie's sentence is cut off by the sound of outside bins falling. “It was never meant to be there. It should have migrated.” Charlie's dad sat on the couch. Head in his hands, his voice frantic but hushed.
More sounds echoed in the darkness of the evening street. “Dad, you have to tell me what's going on. Why are you so traumatised by geese?” Charlie pleaded.
“It's not the geese, son; It’s what comes with them… it's Megoosa.” Charlie's dad replies, his gaze never leaving the floor.
“Um, ok… I'm sorry, did you say Megoosa?” Charlie asked, completely taken aback.
His dad made direct eye contact with him but said nothing. A couple of waddle-like thuds made their way across the bungalow's roof. “Oh god, there on the roof.” Charlie’s dad was paralysed with fear.
The sounds from outside become louder, war-like. Charlie went to the window. “Charlie, no!”
Yanking back the curtains, the pandemonium was exposed. The geese had infested every house. The honks of seething rage overlapped the screams of horror. A man sprints from his home as a cleaver-wielding goose charges after him. Hundreds of them, leaving no man, woman, or child safe from their vengeance. The front door burst open, and a lean forest hag stepped inside, the seven goose heads that make up her hair coil and wave, hissing like the extinguishing of a fire. Their eyes glisten in the light of the chaos. “Blood for blood. Kin for kin. No other price shall repay this sin!” She wailed; finger pointed at Charlie.
She lunged for him; the geese's heads snap and snarl as Megoosa grabbed Charlie's arms, her dirt-riddled nails scraping his skin. The sky remote bashed one of the goose heads as Charlie's dad yells for Megoosa's attention. Her head whipped around; her sunken eyes glare at him. “Regret your sins and say goodbye to adorn wings of Ashe that shall never fly.” Screeching, she begins to drag Charlie to the doorway.
Charlie's dad darts towards them both as Charlie digs in his heels. A horde of geese breaks through the window, overcoming Charlie’s dad's attempts at reaching his son. “I'm sorry, Charlie, I should have listened.” Incoming geese smothered Charlie's dad’s pleading words.
“Yeah, you should have,” Charlie yelled back.
Megoosa dragged Charlie out onto the streetlight. “Come, my friends, we have won this fight and may another join our ranks tonight. Let all who hear my voice be warned: those who hunt us shall be mourned. Within my wrath, I turn flesh to feather; the fool’s humanity I must untether!” Megoosa’s hoarse voice cried out. Her goose heads honking triumphantly.
A wave of geese picked both Charlie and Megoosa up. The pitter-patter of the smoky cloud made its way out of town, leaving nothing but carnage behind. Megoosa’s distant cackles merged with the chiming of the town clock. Midnight, it's officially Halloween.
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