He came out and joined his friends in the garden.
It was a pleasant enough evening, with a gentle breeze rustling leaves. The three of them just sat; at one with nature. You would have to say they were doing nothing more than minding their own business. They certainly weren’t bothering anybody. The light was failing with dusk coming on. In one respect, you could say that they were all night owls, of a kind. All of them would be busy later.
Then came the sound. They all knew what it meant. It was happening again and they didn’t know why. It had always been this way. It was them, the others, with their attitude. The idea that they had no right to be there, although none of them had ever entertained the idea that they were trespassing. It was some kind of ingrained behaviour that ran through the DNA of the others…they supposed.
There it was again, a great whooshing sound; closer this time. It brought with it a quite familiar, yet extremely nasty smell that wafted towards them.
Tiny legs moving fast now.
All twenty-four of them, going like the clappers!