"When I stooped over to pick up my pencil . . ."
by Alan Nicoll
When I stooped over to pick up my pencil, I noticed a tiny hole in the floor, next to the baseboard. How odd, I thought. It's too small for a mouse. As I gazed at the hole, still bent over, I saw something move in the hole. It looked like a glint of silver, then it was gone. I wondered if I had even seen anything. I got down on my hands and knees, moving close to the hole. Nothing there, just a hole. The hole itself looked very round and clean, as though drilled. "Huh," I said aloud. I stood up and walked into the living room, glancing back into the kitchen, glancing back at the hole.
There was another glint of light. No mistaking it this time, there was something in there. I sat down on the carpet quietly to wait. Another glint, then something small and silvery slowly came out of the hole. It was less than an inch tall. I couldn't make out its shape. It moved to the side, then a second silvery shape came out. These were followed by a third, a fourth, a dozen, twenty. They spread out over the kitchen floor, one of them coming straight towards me.
The one coming towards me stopped. It stood still for a moment, then began slowly backing away, backing towards the hole. The others were also retreating, and soon they were scurrying.
I lunged and caught one in my hand. It was mighty tasty. I sat down to wait again. "They'll be back," I said.