Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's always the spooky season,
full of chills, thrills and spine tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family
friendly frights for those ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go bump in the night,
and some children may not be able to handle what others can. Parental
consent is recommended now for tonights micro terror. Curse of Sharkskeido by Scott Donnelly.
It was a freak accident, the one that created Sharkskeido. It was
a one in a billion chance, yet it happened. And now the small
coastal town of Ocean Foam Bluffs has a problem on their hands, and it's
summed up perfectly by a small little rhyme that everyone in town knows. By
sea and by air, Sharkskedo is everywhere the sunset on Ocean Foam Bluffs,
and the Fourth of July festivity is kicked off with a parade down Main Street
by where Benchley's General Store used to be. Now it was just an empty
building, forever immortalized as the place where the last attack from Sharkskedo took place.
It was the previous summer, late summer, but summer nonetheless, just
as the tourist season was wrapping up, Shark's mosquito rose from the depths of
the Great Atlantic, its wings flapping more than a thousand times every second to
get itself airborne. The monstrosity hovered over ocean foam bluffs like a search helicopter,
eyeing the town carefully. Deciding on its next meal, It chose Benchley's
General Store as it's place to dine, where five men had been working to
repair the roof of the structure. Now, as the Fourth of July parade
weaved through town and completed down by the docks, fireworks exploded in the sky
to bring an end to the celebration. Residual smoke drifted through the night sky
as the crowd slowly began to disperse. Three teenage brothers sitting in a boat
which had been secured to one of the docks, crinkled up their empty bags
of chips and crunched up their soda cans. All right, Roy, the
eldest brother, said, as he stood up, Let's throw these things away
and get home. Done and done. Peter, the middle brother, said,
casually tossing his trash over the side of the boat's and into the ocean
water. I meant throw them into a trash can, Roy said. Peter
shrugged. What's the difference glittering? Ritchie, the youngest brother of only thirteen,
said, littering as the least of your worries. Roy said, sharkskedo
doesn't like trash floating in his home. Peter scoffed, he laughed. Richie,
however, looked confused. Let's say sharkskeido, he asked, just a
local legend. Peter said, it's not real. It is real. Roy
said, don't you remember what happened at Bentley's General Store last year? Peter
laughed again. They were trying to repair the roof. There was a collapse.
That's all there was to it. There was no sharkskedo. Something like
that clearly can't exist anyway, Well it does, Roy said, and you're
going to upset it. Peter snatched to the empty soda can out of Ritchie's
hand and heaved it over the side of the boat. He hit the water
with a smack and bobbed up and down. Silence filled the air between the
three brothers. Richie seemed to grow nervous. Peter just smirked arrogantly. Roy
leered at him. By sea and by air, Sharksquito is everywhere, Roy
hauntingly whispered. Peter laughed again. It's just a stupid ghost story, he
said. However, part of him refused to admit the way his older brother
said the rhyme was indeed spooky. Roy turned to Richie. Years ago,
a one in a billion chance event happened. The stars aligned too perfectly.
There was a chemical spill in these very waters. A great white shark was
swimming through it. A mosquito buzzed just over the surface of the ocean,
and then a storm rolled in. There was a great flash of lightning and
a monstrous boom of thunder. The lightning struck down from the clouds, shooting
straight through the mosquito, through the chemicals, and striking the shark. They
say the ocean lit up in colors that never existed before. When everything was
over and the storm was gone and waters were still something new stalked the Atlantic
Sharksquito Ritchie nervously whimpered. The tension on the boat was thick, and Peter
decided to slice through it. Like a hot knife through butter. Who Sharkskeito
can kiss my butt, Peter said, tossing another empty bag of chips overboard.
This time, however, the bag never touched the water. The surface
broke and a massive behemoth creature emerged. It was Sharksqito, swallowing up the
bag first and then colliding with the boat. The jarring collision knocked all three
kids from their feet. Peter fell overboard just as Sharksquito sank back into the
dark water. Peter Roy shouted, catching his footing as the boat rocked wickedly
on the wake caused by the monster. Richie scurried on his hands and knees
to the closest corner he could find, and cowered. Roy grabbed onto the
side of the boat and looked over, watching the choppy waters finally settle back
down. Then the surface suddenly broke again. The monstrous insectoid fish crashed through,
rising up and over the ocean. It just hung in mid air as
if it had been lifted out of the water by a harness, its translucent
wings flapping wildly, its jaw agape and showcasing its rows of sharp teeth.
A long goofy provosis extending out from somewhere. The monster made a sickening,
gurgling noise, ocean water bubbling out from its gills and flowing out from between
its teeth. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Sharksquito's eyes blew out from its
head. Sparks exploded and rained down like a leaking pipe. Roy knew something
was wrong. He backed away quickly and slipped on the wet surface of the
boat, falling hard on his butt. Then the proboscis, the tubular extension
that extended out from the monster, cracked in half, partially falling into the
ocean. Green slime gushed out of the half that was still attached. Then
a single word sliced through all of the terror. Cut upon the single angrily
shouted word, all the lights came on, giving life to the filming studio
where Sharkskido was being filmed. The film's director, Estas Edwards, sighed heavily
and slunk back in his director's chair. He rubbed the bridge of his nose
with his fingers and grumbled to himself. Sharkskeito hung in the air, now
motionless but still spewing out the occasional spark. The actor who played Roy stood
up and rubbed his butt, where he was sure a bruise was all ready
for me. The child portraying Richie stood up and looked around at the confused
and concerned film crew. Estes Edwards finally stood up from his chair. The
same thing happened to Spielberg, but with my film, he bitterly growled.
The stunt double playing Peter clearly looks like a forty five year old. I
could see the harness on the shark mosquito. That tube thing shouldn't have broken.
And for the love of all things logical, what on earth is this
movie about? What's the message here? Don't litter in the ocean? Esta's
voice echoed through the closed set. None of his cast or crew said a
word. I'm an artist, not a schlock filmmaker. Estas roared. I
want my films preparing in art house theaters, not straight to science fiction cable
channels. Estes looked up that the monster as creature designers had made and couldn't
help but laugh at it. He couldn't help but laugh at the idea,
the script, the whole thing. He threw his arms up. Ah,
I quit, Es does Edwards stormed away. From his director's chair. Pushing
his way through his speechless and stunned cast and crew, he flung open the
door to the studio warehouse they were shooting in, and that's when it happened.
That's when the Curse of Sharksqdo was born. The force in which he
had flung the door open hit the wall, creating a domino effect that led
to the monstrous creature coming loose from its harness, swinging down across the studio
and fatally crushing as does Edwards. In the years that followed, Sharksqito was
put before the camera several more times in an attempt to finish the film.
However, every single time they tried, the production suffered horribly. There were
fires on set, malfunctioning equipment, ghostly voices warning the cast and crew to
stop making the film or else. It became apparent that the ghost of ESTs
Edwards, even in death, was trying to prevent the awful film from being
made. Thank you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday for
another scary story. For more fun, visit our website at microterrors dot com,
where we will also have spooky games you can print out and play like
wicked word searches, mysterious mazes, and more. Microterrors dot com is also
where you can find us on your favorite social media and even send in your
own scary story for us to tell. Plus learn more about our author,
Scott Donnelly, who has other horrors for both young and old. I hope
you'll join me again soon for micro Terror's scary stories for kids. Nana Michael Cares