 Welcome to Microterrorz. Scary stories for kids, where it's always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine-tingling spooks. Microterrorz are family-friendly frights for those ages 8 and up. And while our stories are for younger ears, we are still talking about things that go bump in the night. And some children may not be able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended. Now for tonight's Microterrorz. I was never one to be afraid of storms, but there was something about this one that set my teeth on edge. Maybe it was the crashing thunder, blinding lightning, or the relentless rain. But then again, maybe it was because of the killer that was out there. My dad was on high alert. Strange things had been happening around our little neck at the countryside. A couple people were missing and hadn't turned up yet. A strange man was reported by one of our neighbors a couple of nights earlier, stalking around their yard and peering in through their windows. Their barn door had been shimmied open and rifled through. Nothing was taken, but there was a shadowy stranger in our midst that was up to no good. Then last night, our closest neighbor, Lawrence Wallace, was found deceased after an apparent attack from this creeping figure. My dad was convinced that we were all in danger and being hunted. With the power out and the storm raging, I couldn't sleep. I just sat on my knees at my bedroom window, watching the dark, wet trees and wheat fields suffer tremendously in the winds. Lightning would frequently rip through the sky, giving me brief visuals of the storm and all its glory. Debris jetted across our property, trees bent until they threatened to snap in half, and the thunder roared overhead like a creature from the fiery bowels of... Suddenly a blood-curdling scream tore through the storm. Even over the crashing thunder and pounding rain, it was the unmistakable sound of a woman in peril. She screamed a second time, which was quickly followed by a single, echoing gunshot that silenced her. I stood to my feet, my heart racing and fear flushing through me. There was a killer out there. We were in danger. There was no other explanation. My bedroom door flew open and my dad charged in with a flashlight in hand, the beam of it bouncing around my room, hitting a mirror and gleaming back in his eyes like a wild animal caught in a car's headlights. We have to go, he expressed urgently. Someone else is in danger. I didn't respond verbally. I just nodded. I trusted my dad with my life, everything I knew I learned from him. He was there to teach me to keep me safe. If he said it was time to go, it was time to go. He clearly knew something that I didn't, and I didn't dare question him. I grabbed his hand and he led me downstairs, out of the house and to his old pickup truck. Once inside, he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The windshield wipers worked overtime to give him the best view of the road ahead. I could hear the thunder booming above us. Lightning struck the ground up ahead, sending a sudden shock through my body as if I were the one that had just been hit. I was completely on edge. The storm, the screams, the gunshot, the killer out in the storm. I finally spoke up, breaking my worried silence. Where are we going? I asked. My dad was focused on the road. We hadn't driven very far before he pulled into the next driveway just up the road. The headlights of the truck illuminated our neighbor's house as he came to a stop. He was where Karen Wallace lived with her now deceased husband, Lawrence. Did you hear that scream? He asked me. I nodded. It sounded like Karen, my dad said. Another flash of lightning enhancing the look of determination and fear on his face. That monster came back for her after killing Mr. Wallace last night. My breathing picked up. If we don't stop him, he is going to kill all of us. My dad urged. He sounded flustered, afraid. I wasn't used to seeing him like this. But I still trusted that he knew what he was doing. Suddenly a loud crack of thunder shook the truck as a series of quick, bright blue flashes of lightning glinted across the Wallace's property. I looked ahead and saw a man standing in front of their house holding a long rifle. Dad, look! I screamed, pointing at the man. He looked in there. He saw the man with the rifle. The man seemed surprised to see us and stood unsure in the pouring rain. That's him, I thought. That's the killer. I didn't recognize the man. He looked so average, so unassuming. Get in the back seat, my dad instructed. I didn't hesitate. I unbuckled my seat belt and climbed into the back seat of the truck. My dad opened the door and stepped out into the rain. He slowly approached the man. With bated breath, I kept a close eye on things. I wasn't sure what I would do if their interaction went south. But my instincts told me I would do something. I watched my dad and the man exchange brief words with one another. And then, to my surprise, they both walked back toward the truck. My dad climbed back in behind the wheel and the soaked-to-the-bone stranger with the rifle climbed into the passenger seat. Once both doors were shut, the stranger looked back at me. Very bushy, unkempt beard, he gave a half-smile, a nervous smile if I read it right. This is Mr. Cyrus, my dad said. He's a hunter? Mr. Cyrus nodded. That's right, he said, with a nervous gulp. I've been hunting a monster and tracked it here to this region of country land. I couldn't believe how isolated it was out here, and then I realized it was the perfect place for a monster to hide. I never expected to find more. More monsters? I said in a shaky voice. Mr. Cyrus nodded. A lot more, he said. They're all living out here in some sort of colony. What happened to Mrs. Wallace? I asked. Mr. Cyrus just looked at me. That woman in there? He scoffed. She was one of them, just like her husband was. Just like the rest of the colony. They're monsters. They're... Out of nowhere, my dad slammed his hand down into Mr. Cyrus. He turned to discharge the bone-chilling scream. My eyes widened, and I pressed my back harder into the seat. I heard a guttural growl come out of my dad. Thunder clapped above us, and lightning flashed erratically. As I watched my dad attack Mr. Cyrus in an animalistic rampage. My dad changed before my eyes, his arms bulking up and growing long, brown hairs that quickly spread over his entire body. His face elongated into a snarling snout. He hissed between rows of piercing K-19, and then howled. As he continued to thrash Mr. Cyrus with his razor-sharp claws, my dad's eyes were beady and red, his hairy brow dripping just low enough to underscore his dangerous inhuman actions. The attack was over quickly. Mr. Cyrus never stood a chance. Slowly, the coarse brown hairs all over my dad's body began to sink back into his skin. The wolf-like snout he'd grown diminished, and his eyes returned to normal. Turning around in his seat, he looked at me and said, I wanted to explain so much more to you before showing you what it's like in person. He said, I know that was probably a lot to take in. He was right. It was a lot to take in. A lot to see in person. But at the same time, it was just like his teaching said it would be like. Quick, powerful, and messy. I'm assuming Mr. Cyrus was in communication with other werewolf hunters. Soon they'll all descend upon our colony. We have to let the others know we have to relocate immediately. I didn't want to leave, but I understood why. It was for our safety, our survival. And after seeing how my dad handled the threat in person, I felt confident that the next time trouble would arise, I'd be more than ready to step in and do my part. 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