Something Unnatural
"What the—?" Dad said, already on the move out of the kitchen and down the hall, everyone following behind him. As his dad bounded up the stairs as quickly as he could move his big body, Tom anxiously looked around him to see what had caused the commotion.
Through a swirling cloud of dust and debris, Tom could see a large, white hard ball, which had already dug a hole through the wall into Tom's room, splinters of ripped wood protruding out of the ground. It looked as if it had been shot from a cannon, a dud bomb lodged in the dry floor.
"What on earth?" Mom said in a shaky voice, putting a hand on her husband's arm.
Dad had no answer; Tom hurried past him to his bedroom door and opened it, expecting to see a disaster area—a cracked wall, a gaping hole in the side of the house, something. But his breath caught in his throat when he saw no damage at all—not a crack or tear in the ceiling, his room was in perfect shape.