Daily Prompt: Underground

via Daily Prompt: Underground


[When ever I see the word underground my mind always goes to The Wombles and the song so I decided to write this mad capped short story about Wombles so enjoy…..if you don’t know what a Womble is they are in the picture and I’ve put the link fro the song here]


I make my way down into the underground, the thing that I’m chasing made a break for it and if I don’t catch it, then I won’t see it again.

But how could we let the thing that killed Terry, in that vicious way, get away with it? There has been a spate of murders over the years on Wimbledon Common over the last few years, no one could ever have predicted what the cause was, I can scarcely believe it myself.

Everyone knows about them, but I never for one moment thought that they were real. It was a god damn kid’s show for fuck sake. But there was no denying it anymore; the Murders on the Common are…. The Wombles.

They aren’t anything like they were on the TV, from a distance they are the same general shape but they have sharp teeth, which they use to rip the flesh from their victims. The claws on their hands are long and lethal, but it’s the red glowing eyes that struck me the most. There is nothing but evil in those eyes.

I suppress a shudder at the memory of those eyes, I follow the trail down into their lair, not sure what I’m going to do when I get there. All I have on me is a lighter, I really wish I had some kind of weapon so that I could take these things out.

There is a light up ahead and the tunnel I’m walking through starts to expand into a large cavern.

The flickering light casts their shadows slashing them across the walls, as I get closer my blood runs cold.

They are singing a very familiar but different and terrifying song:


Underground, overground, murdering free

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we

Making good use of the things that we find

Things that the everyday victim leaves behind


Uncle Bulgaria He can remember the days when the bodies wouldn’t appear in the times

With his map of the world

Planting bodies to dispose of for free.


Wombles are organised, kill as a team

Wombles are killers and Wombles are mean

Underground, overground, murdering free

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we


People don’t notice us, they never see

Under their noses, a killer may be

We murder by night, and we murder by day

Looking for victims to trundle away


We’re so incredibly utterly devious

Making the most of everything

Even bottles and tins

Pick up the pieces and make ’em into a nice stew

Is what we do


Underground, overground, murdering free

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we

Making good use of the things that we find

Things that the everyday victims leave behind


The song finishes and I stifle a yell as the happy memory of the original is destroyed forever in my mind.

I look at the entrance to the cavern, to see if there is anything that I can use to take them out. What I see in there makes me sick to my stomach

There is a dead woman staked out on the ground next to a small child, also dead. And they are tearing into their flesh devouring them with relish. The blood and guts are flying all over the room as the feeding frenzy and bloodlust takes over all of them in the chamber.

I throw up at the sight, wiping my mouth I look out again and realise I either get out of here, or they will find me kill me and eat me as well.

I start backing away into the tunnel when I catch a glimpse of petrol cans and gas cylinders near the entrance.

An idea springs to mind, and I run, grab the petrol cans, they are full. I start to pour the petrol all around the entrance and over the gas canisters. There is a loud bang as I drop the can and every single pair of evil Womble eyes turn on me.

Slowly reaching into my pocket I pull out my lighter, flick the cap off the Zippo, there is an inhuman roar as The Wombles charge at me I spark the lighter yelling “REMEMBER YOU’RE A WOMBLE” as I drop the lighter in the fuel and make a run for it.

The roar of the fire coming up behind me drowns out the roar of The Wombles which is quickly replaced by screams of agony as they go up in flames. The heat is searing at my back as I run up the tunnel and just as I reach the entrance, the ground shakes as the Gas Canisters explode and I get ejected from the tunnel in a gout of flames.

Landing hard, I spin and look back to make sure nothing is coming after me. After a few moments, nothing happens. Sitting there, I can’t stop shaking and the tears start to flow, “I got them Terry, I got them.”


The end


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