Burn and Razed in Lead, SD

A stiff breeze coursed through the branches high above the Tomahawk Lake Country Club below. A few pine needles found their way loose, and floated down to the green below. The first of the year to do so, and just one of the signs that summer was on its way out of South Dakota. Pheasant calls echoed over the bubbling creek that ran from pond to pond, and a lone frog croaked from its lily throne.

Then, there was a loud crack, and a ball whizzed through the trees with a “plop” into the drink.

“OH, G** F*#*@@(# D***#(!”

The source of that outcry was an enraged young man, who was occupying himself by beating the ground with a golf club.

Jonathan Seward was somewhere around 6 foot 2, with jet-black hair and a jawline that could cut brick. He wore a pair of pressed khakis and a bright cyan polo, and his light blue eyes were filled to the brim with unceasing frustration.

He was exasperated enough that he threw his driver onto the ground, and let out one last yell in defeat. He stayed there for a moment, before going back to his bag and picking out his trusty 5-iron and another ball. Jon went back to the tee box, carefully setting the pristine ball into a well-worn divet near several broken tees.

He heard slight whirring and turned to see a golf cart climbing up the hill to meet him. Driving it was a more rotund hispanic boy, wearing a deep violet polo and some faded blue-jeans. The cart came to a halt next to the tee-box, and Jon stopped for a moment. The other boy’s dark, curly hair bobbed up and down as he picked his clubs off the back of the cart and walked over.

“Back so soon, Red? I was just about to tee off.”

Red Colorado threw Jon a refreshing Barracuda Cola (For the Taste that Bites Back) and set his bag down behind the tee box.

“Really? Cause I could have sworn I heard someone hitting something over here.”

“Weird. Must of been the wind.”

“Right, Johnny. The wind.”

Red looked unbelieving at Jon, held out his scorecard, and dropped it. It fell to the ground below, almost unmoved by the soft breeze. They exchanged a silent glance, and Jon shrugged, readying beside the ball.

“Oh well. Mulligan!”

Jon took another swing. And again, it arched high in the air, flying off to the right and landing in a river.

“Two strokes.” Red remarked, marking his scorecard.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, my turn.”

Jon stomped over to his bag, grabbed his scorecard, and mocked Red in silence behind his back. Red readied his ball and club. A strong wind suddenly picked up, blowing Jon’s scorecard out of his hands.

“SEE? This wind, man! I thought it would just be a fun day out on the course, no parents for the last week of summer, and not a care in the world, but this weather seems bent on ruining my game.”

He reached down for his card, which continued to blow further ahead of his hand each time he reached for it. Red leaned on his driver and watched in amusement.

  - - - - -

Unknownst to the two of them, a mile away, a storm was brewing. Dark clouds apparated in the once-blue sky, and began spiraling outward, descending rapidly towards the course. This darkness spread like ink through water, moving with haste towards its target: the tee-box of hole 5. But this went unnoticed to Red and Jon, who focused on their game.

  - - - - -

“Jon, you’re overreacting.” Red swung his club, and it darted down the fairway to the green, just inches from the hole. The wind rose again, and his ball rolled into the hole. Red shot a  smirk at Jon.

“Hmm. Maybe you were right. Hole-in-wwwwwwwhat the hell?”

The cheeky grin dropped from Red’s face, as the massive storm was now almost overhead. Jon turned just in time to see a flash of blue lightning streak across the sky. The thunder boomed and a surge of wind blew the both of them back where they stood. In decisive unison, they said to one another,

“Cart, NOW.”

The two scrambled to gather their gear and get in the cart. Jon jumped into the driver’s seat, and Red followed, knocking him out of the way into the passenger side. The wind was blowing faster and faster with each second that passed. With a quick turn of the keys, the cart stirred to life, and Red slammed down with the fullness of his weight onto the gas pedal. The cart sped over the grass towards the main building on the other side of the course, as a bolt of lightning struck the ground only 20 feet behind them. Jon held onto the railings as he watched the storm cover the entirety of the sky above them. Red, just for a moment, took his eyes off of the path, and said to Jon,

“I thought you said it was supposed to be clear all afternoon?”

“I told you, this weather is out to get me!”

The lightning struck again and again, each time the distance between the bolt and the cart getting closer and closer. In a stroke of bad luck the cart hit a dip in the fairway and jumped into the air. As it crashed,  Jon flew off to the side. He pushed himself off the grass, the adrenaline now filling his veins, and he saw the cart lying on top of Red. Jon ran to the cart at full speed, the trail of lightning now closing in for the kill. Jon grabbed ahold of the tires and with every ounce of his 160-pound-being lifted the cart off of Red.

Just as Red was about to pull himself off of the ground, disaster struck. In a flash, one final column of electricity came down from the heavens and blasted Jon off to the side, smiting Red where he lay. His body convulsed and was filled with glowing white and sapphire sparks. In a brilliant show of light, he floated into the air, still alive despite the massive amount of voltage surging through his body. His body vibrated rapidly, alternating between solid and transparent as he phased out of reality. Jon could only stare on in horror and astonishment as his friend rose higher and higher above, flashing in and out of existence until finally, the final crack of thunder.

Red was gone. And so, Jon was left alone, dazed, as the storm calmed for a moment.

“Shoot. He had my keys.”

It was all that he could manage to say. Out of nowhere, a massive spacecraft burst through the murky veil of the sky in a fiery blue blaze. The flames extinguished to reveal a long red-and-white hull spiraling towards the earth. Moments before impact, the head of the craft pulled up, and causing it to skid along the ground through trees, grass, and a small pond at incredible speed.

Jon, who was still on the ground, only saw a blur as the entirety of the ship ran over his legs. His body was rolled along with the bottom of the ship, and his torso rotated like a fan as he spun. At last, the ship came to a halt, and Jon was left bloodied and broken, only inches away from the back end of the ship. His legs were still underneath, without a doubt shattered, and his breathing was labored. Yet, despite the pain, his brain still had enough juice to give him one sarcastic remark. “This is it. This is how I die. Getting obliterated by a spaceship during a freak thunderstorm. What a world.”

After a minute or two, a hatch in the back of the ship opened, and a ramp extended to the torn-up ground below. It passed right over Jon, and smoke poured out of the interior of the ship to cover his vision. His mind started to fade, but he still was conscious enough to catch a horrible figure in the haze. Its charcoal skin crackled with white lightning, and its legs were bent horribly, disfigured, thin, and almost frail. As it stumbled out, its hooves clomped hard and fast on the metal slope. And as Jon passed out, a scream rang in his ears

- Gaston