march, 2020 third place winner: irruption by sarah kowalski

She was not supposed to be above ground. Louise had long since given up on going home to her ivy-covered cottage, deep in a once-verdant valley miles away, but after months in the bomb shelter, she suddenly couldn’t stay underground for one minute more. So here she was, on the surface, riding a bicycle from the shelter’s storage room. The barrenness was dreadful, but the air was delicious. She yearned to see just one blade of grass or a lone leaf quivering on a tree.  The creatures had arrived just after the war ended, looking enough like artists’ renderings of Satan to make the religious believe a multiplicity of devils had ascended from hell. In fact, they had come from the heavens, from a faraway planet not named in any human language, descending like man-sized locusts upon Earth’s vegetation━and upon anyone in their path. At the thought Louise glanced behind her, and there one was, also riding a bike, as though she had conjured it by thinking of them. She pedaled faster, the scarf of her saffron dress streaming out behind her, the rushing air making her eyes water. Though she knew they rarely traveled alone, Louise felt oddly unconcerned. A laugh bubbled up in her throat at the way its digitless hands and feet curled around the handlebars and pedals. She spotted greenness ahead━real grass, in a tiny meadow!━and understood the creature’s frantic expression.  Louise longed to lie down in the lea. Instead, she dismounted for only enough time to claw up a handful of sod and stalks. Wrapping her scarf around her neck to cradle her prize, she pedaled away swiftly, back toward the shelter. Moments later, the creature leapt off his cycle, landing face down in the grass, setting upon the blades with voracity.