Beware of the Flying Drones That Bite

It all started last summer, when my friends and I decided to take our fascination with technology to the next level. I mean, what else was there to do in our sleepy little town of Maplewood? With nothing but old houses and tall, shadowy trees, we were desperate for adventure. We were obsessed with the latest gadgets—particularly drones. Everyone at school had been talking about them. They soared through the air, capturing stunning footage and performing acrobatic tricks. But one fateful day, we stumbled upon something darker.

It was a muggy afternoon when we found the abandoned warehouse at the edge of town. It loomed like a giant skeleton against the gray sky, its windows shattered and walls covered in graffiti. “Let’s check it out!” my best friend, Jake, exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Emma and I exchanged glances. We knew this was probably a terrible idea, but how often do you get a chance to explore a haunted-looking place?

Inside, the air was thick with dust and the smell of rust. We crept through the dimly lit rooms, giggling nervously. That’s when we found it: a sleek black drone, lying on the ground, half-hidden beneath a pile of debris. Its rotors were still, and it looked oddly out of place amid the ruin. “Wow, this must be top-of-the-line!” Jake said, his voice echoing in the empty space.

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. “Should we really touch it? It looks… broken.” But the allure of the mysterious gadget was too strong. Jake picked it up, brushing off the dirt. “Let’s take it home! We can fix it!”

Back in my garage, we gathered tools and charged the drone's battery. It whirred to life with a low hum, the red lights flickering ominously. Emma and I exchanged nervous glances, but Jake was grinning from ear to ear. “This is going to be awesome!” 

After some adjustments, we decided to take it for a test flight. The drone zipped through the air, doing flips and rolls. It was exhilarating! We cheered as it darted and danced above us. But as the sun began to set, the drone’s behavior became erratic. It started circling higher and higher, as if it was on a mission of its own. 

“Uh, Jake?” I called out, unease settling in my stomach. “Is it supposed to do that?” 

Suddenly, it swooped down, narrowly missing Emma’s head. “Watch out!” I yelled. The drone veered back up, but this time it hovered ominously above us, its red lights flashing like angry eyes. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Emma asked, backing away. 

Jake frowned, tapping on the remote control. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t be acting like this!” 

Without warning, the drone spiraled down toward us again. This time, it was coming straight for me! I ducked just in time, but the drone grazed my arm, and I felt a sharp sting, like a tiny needle piercing my skin. “Ouch!” I shouted, pulling back. 

Jake dropped the controller, his face pale. “It bit you!” 

I stared at my arm, a small puncture wound already beginning to swell. Panic washed over us, and we ran back into the warehouse, desperately trying to find a safe place. “What do we do?” I asked, heart racing. 

“I don’t know!” Jake replied, his voice shaking. “Maybe we can shut it down?” 

But as we huddled together, the drone wasn’t finished with us. It buzzed through the air, the sound now a sinister hum. We heard more of them then, echoing from the dark corners of the warehouse. Drones. Hundreds of them, all identical, their lights flashing in a disturbing rhythm. 

“Run!” Emma screamed, but the swarm of drones was closing in, diving toward us like a pack of hungry wolves. We stumbled through the maze of crates and shadows, desperately seeking an exit. 

Just as we thought we were trapped, we burst through a door, only to find ourselves back outside—safe for now, but we could hear them still, a menacing buzz in the distance. 

“Where do we go?” I gasped, adrenaline pumping. 

“We need to get home!” Jake yelled, his face pale as he looked back at the warehouse. 

As we ran, I felt the sting on my arm intensifying. I looked down, the wound throbbing. Something was wrong—really wrong. 

When we reached my house, I stumbled inside, slamming the door behind me. My heart raced, and I felt dizzy. I stumbled to the bathroom, my skin clammy. I turned on the light and gasped at my reflection. My arm was no longer just swollen; the skin around the bite was turning a sickly shade of green. 

“Guys, something’s happening!” I shouted, panic in my voice. 

They rushed in, but their faces quickly twisted in horror. “What is that?” Emma whispered, pointing at my arm. 

I looked again. The wound was pulsing, moving as if something beneath my skin was alive. “I need to see a doctor,” I said, fear creeping into my voice.

But as I reached for the phone, my vision blurred, and suddenly, the world spun. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. I could feel something inside me, something dark and angry. My friends were shouting, but their voices faded as I felt my consciousness slipping away.

And then, silence.

When I awoke, the room was dark, the only light coming from the blinking lights of my drones, now hovering around me in the dark. I could feel their presence, their buzzing filling my ears. A sudden realization hit me—this wasn’t just an infection. They had chosen me. 

“Join us,” a voice whispered in my head, not mine but strangely familiar, filled with an unsettling sense of purpose. I could feel myself changing, becoming something new, something more than human.

I looked at my friends, their eyes wide with fear, and I smiled. They would never know what I had become. I was no longer just a boy; I was the drone master now. And it was time for them to join me in the skies. 

As I rose to my feet, the drones swirled around me, ready to take flight. And just like that, I knew: we were no longer just flying gadgets. We were something far more terrifying.