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. The Cricket by Scott Donnelly.
In the middle of the woods, with warm sunbeams shining down through the gaps
in the canopy, wait no deep in the woods where the sun doesn't dare
invade, a cricket sat perched upon a mossy rock in the coldness of the
woods that surrounded it. The cricket knew he had committed a crime against nature
and chirped nervously without no scratch that the cricket didn't care one bit that he
committed the ultimate crime against nature. He scoffed at nature. Nature didn't control
him. He was a rebel cricket, a rebel cricket with no one to
tell him what he could do and could not do if he wanted to commit
atrocities. Then he would commit atrocities. The cricket looked around as he chirped.
His legs rubbed together arrogantly. He made the only sound for miles,
and that's the way he liked it. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the
leaves rustled nearby. The cricket went silent. He gulked at the location of
the disturbance. Leaves and bushes moved, eventually giving way to a bushy groundhog.
Wait, now it was a wolverine with sharp teeth and anger in his
eyes that emerged from the brush. He'd heard the rumors around the woods.
Some rebel cricket had committed crimes and atrocities against nature, and that cricket had
escaped to these shadowy parts of the forest, the forbidden forest. The wolverine
had heard the chirps. They're what led him to this location. The wolverine
lowered himself into a stealthy crawl and kept his eye peeled. That cricket could
be anywhere. The wolverine thought, I'll be the hero of the woods if
I can put a stop to his little reign of terror. As the wolverine
slunk through the tall grass and weeds, scanning the forest floor for any sign
of the cricket. He suddenly stopped. Something wasn't right, something felt wrong.
It felt like he was being watched from above. No wait, he
was being watched from everywhere. Out of thin air, an army of grasshoppers,
no praying mantises, materialized in a circle around him, shedding away unprecedented
invisibility cloaks. They stood on their back legs, their arms creeping outward,
each with a beau staff and their sticky grips. One of the manises took
large steps towards the wolverine. Who do you think you are to cross into
the territory of the mantis, it said. The wolverine rose up from its
stealth crawl and looked around. He was trapped by the beau staff wielding army
of mantises. He gulped, harding his fate might have already been sealed.
I was searching for a cricket, the wolverine said, I didn't mean to
trespass. The mantises all looked at each other, and then the lead mantis
said, there are no crickets here. There he is. The wolverine replied,
I've tracked him. To this location. I've heard his chirps. You
were all in the presence of a cricket, a rebel cricket guilty of the
most heinous natural crimes you could imagine. The mantises all laughed. You think
a cricket on that level of corruption could sneak by our security lasers, the
lead mantis said. The wolverine rose to its hind legs and flashed its teeth
at the mantises. It wait, no, the wolverine rose up and pulled
a hidden weapon from underneath a fold in spur. It was a musket.
The wolverine smirked. If I could, then, how could a cricket not.
The army of mantises were all on guard now. They held their bowstaffs,
all ready for a fight. The lead mantis held his ground, swirling
his tongue around inside of his mouth. With his beady black eyes, he
studied the wolverine. If you're here for the cricket, he said, then
why pull that impressive musket on us? Because you're not listening to me.
I needed to show you. Wait, wait, the wolverine said, because
you're in my way. I am on a secret mission and not even an
army of invisible grasshoppers can stop me. That cricket must be stopped at all
costs. We're not grasshoppers, the lead mantis said, clearly did by such
a common understandable mistake. We're mantis is praying mantises, and you had better
pray. We don't resort to The wolverine was tired of talking. He aimed
the musket and held down the trigger. A barrage of acorns fired out from
the barrel. Waits no, the boomerangs. Flaming boomerangs fired out the barrel,
pelting the mantises, who had all been caught off guard. Some were
clipped in the head, some had their bowstaffs knocked out of their grip.
The lead mantis charged the wolverine, exhibiting a brave howl, or better yet,
an ancient war cry that summoned the mantises Tyrannosaurus wrex god, waking him
from this billion years slumber. The ground split open, and a massive Tyrannosaurus
wrex rose up from underneath, lavas skewing up all around it like liquid fireworks.
The army of mantiss fought off the barrage of flaming boomerangs and the woaring
continued to relentlessly fire them. The roar of the freehistoric beast rumbled through the
chests and hearts of the warriors. The lava flowed, threatening to huh No,
threatening to completely engulfing the mantises. The wolverine refocused his aim on the
Tyrannosaurus wrecks, firing the fire enhanced boomerangs at its face. As the random,
bizarre battle and the forbidden Forest played out, eventually causing a catastrophic collapse
of the Earth's crust, which sent earthquakes across the no which split the planet
in half. The crickets continued to just sit upon its mossy rock, smirking
and shirping, going down with the ship. The ship in a devastating state
that he was responsible for. We hope to meg atrocity against the nature,
The cricket laughed as the two halves of Earth drifted away into the wait.
As the two halves of Earth exploded and destroyed the universe. 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, you'll learn more about our author, Scott Donnelly,
who has other horrors for both young and old. I hope you'll join me
again soon form micro Terrors Scary Stories for Kids