[ WP ] A boy with a plastic shovel goes digging for dinosaur bones , instead , he unearths an ancient evil . What happens ?

Crunch. Woosh. Tap-tap-tap. 
 
 He had left home with the first rays of light, listening to the birds tweet as he peddled his bike out of town. The young Boy Scout was so close to getting his first archaeology badge. All he needed was a fossil, a bone. Anything. He just needed to dig something up. 
 
 Crunch. Woosh. Tap-tap-tap. 
 
 So he dug. He had no real plan. Simply dig a small hole. Check it. Then walk a few steps before starting again. 
 
 Crunch. Woosh. Tap-tap-tap. 
 
 Pretty soon the desert around him looked like cheese, hundreds of small holes dotted along the surface. As the sun started to rise, the chubby boy began to sweat. He considered quitting. The other boys all laughed at him, he was useless at swimming and making knots. He could n't fish or make a campfire. He could n't really do anything. But he knew he could dig. 
 
 Crunch. Woosh. Tap-tap-tap. 
 
 So he dug. Stopping for lunch, he ate his four sandwiches and stared at the note his mother had written for him. `` I love you my cookie.'' He could n't be angry, he loved his mother just as much as she loved him. The boys knew that too though. They teased, called him momma's boy. Well he'd show them. He dug. 
 
 Crunch. Clink. Clink. Clink. 
 
 The boy's face lit up. He'd found something. He fell to his knees and began to pull away the earth with his fingers. The soil scratched his nails but he did n't feel it, he was too focused on his prize. 
 
 He worked his hands around the object, prodding his fingers into the soil. Slowly he worked out the shape of a square. A box! He grabbed up the shovel and eased around the shape. Soon he had unearthed it, he pulled it up into his hand and realised it was n't a box after all. It was a cube. Perfectly shaped and smooth. It fit in his palm and he held it there, staring. 
 
 It could n't just be a rock, could it? No, he reasoned, somebody had to have made it, it was too perfectly shaped. The cube was the dark red of blood and a shimmer moved across the surface as the afternoon light hit. 
 
 For a moment, the boy thought he could see something within the cube, inside beneath the surface. He tried to focus, was it a swirl or a cloud? 
 
 Suddenly a pain shot through the boy's hand as though he were holding a hot coal. The cube smashed to the floor, creating a cascade of tiny red slithers. 
 
 He cried, not in agony but frustration. His discovery was broken. The other boys would continue to laugh at him, cause him pain. *Pain? * His mind focused on the feeling and he felt it growing inside. His stomach churned and his chest tightened. He took a deep breath in and his lungs shook. 
 
 He pictured the boys, remembering the time when they had tied him to a tree and left him. They told him that the wolves would eat him and he'd believed them. 
 
 They hid in the trees around him and howled. He wailed and sobbed, cried out for help. The only reply was their laughter. Humiliation, the biggest pain of all. 
 
 As the boy stared down at the broken cube he continued to think on that pain. It flowed through his limbs, through his blood. The boy's mouth opened and a gurgle came from low down in his throat, some far away voice. *Painnnnnnnnnn. Paainnnnnnnnnn. * 
 
 The boy's ears picked up the sound, but his mind was elsewhere. In the locker room, naked, on the day they had stolen his clothes. *Paainnnnnnnn. * On the field where they threw softballs at his skin, he still had the bruises. *Paainnnnnnnnn. * 
 
 The gurgle grew into a sharp stabbing sensation, but still the boy did n't notice. Still he was lost in his memories. 
 
 Blood rose up his throat and out of his lips, sliding down his chin and onto his uniform. His lips started to move, started to mouth the word. Pain. 
 
 Yes, pain. Pain he felt. Pain. He would show them pain. 
 
 He turned on his heel, jumped onto his bike, headed home. He thought about the boys, thought about their pain. 
 
 His father kept a gun under the bed.
