“Merry Christmas, Robert.“ His eyes lit up as I handed him the sword. “I think you’ll find this useful when we’re fighting the heathens.” He expertly brought the gleaming broadsword to the ready position and stepped through a few of the basic forms I had taught him. His strength and grace were a joy to behold. In a year, he would surpass me as a swordsman. How had he grown up so fast?

“Father, it’s wonderful!” He swung it in a wide arc, showing off its balance and his skill.

A shout came from across the camp. “Watch out, boy, or you’ll take someone’s head off.” Count Taureau, always quick with words of encouragement sat on the edge of his precious onager sipping a steaming cup of something, probably blood. Why the fool had decided to haul a catapult across Europe I do not know, but it had not, thus far slowed our little army. I had made it clear that I had no intention of arriving in Jerusalem months late and would leave him and his engine behind if it jeopardized our pace.

I awaited Robert’s response, but his eyes were focused not on Taureau, but on the sky above his head. A bright point of light was streaking across the heavens. Taureau’s priest loudly proclaimed it a message from God, blessing our undertaking. I thought it might be a portent, but I was not so confident of its meaning. The Revelation of Saint John speaks of a falling star that was definitely no blessing.

My worry multiplied when the star turned and approached our encampment. As the light grew larger, men scattered like startled deer into the woods. From the relative safety of a thick stand of pine, I watched it alight in the clearing just beyond our camp. Clearly now, I could see that it was no star. It resembled nothing so much as a great wheel, made of impossibly bright steel. Its shining surface was flawless, without marking or blemish. Behind me, I could hear sounds of awe and wonder. No blacksmith could have crafted such a wheel.

The murmurs behind me cut off in a synchronized gasp as a black line appeared on the edge of the thing and grew in thickness to reveal an opening. We stood, dumbfounded and unmoving as three creatures stepped from the ebon interior onto the frosty ground.

I say creatures, because these were definitely not human. Their heads were oddly shaped and much too large for their diminutive bodies. Their eyes were immense and occupied more than half their noseless faces. They stood about three feet tall, and could not have weighed more than seventy pounds. Their clothing looked like winter undergarments made from silk. And, confirming my fears, each bore upon his chest the image of a lighting bolt.

Robert must have recognized them also, for even as I turned to organize the men, he rose from the thicket, sword upraised, screaming, “Slay the demons!” Sadly, not many men are as courageous as my son; just five brave souls rushed toward the unholy figures. I watched in mute horror as one of the fiends raised his arm and light shot from his malformed fingertip. It burst within the charging mass of men, casting them into the air like rag dolls. Mad with grief and rage, I stood to avenge my child. Only Taureau’s firm grip on my wrist held me back. With a quick gesture, he signaled his archers. A deadly volley left the demons looking like porcupines as their bodies fell lifeless to the ground.

Seeing the strength and Godly determination of our force, the demons that remained within the wheel sought to escape. The breach in its side closed and it began to rise from the ground. But even as it rose, I heard a loud, satisfied “ka-thunk” and a massive stone flew through the clearing and smashed into the side of the wheel. It wobbled and dropped heavily to the ground. Roaring, three hundred men converged, intent on destroying these devils.

Sadly, neither sword nor lance nor boulder was able to penetrate that remarkable steel skin. Eventually, we fell away, exhausted from our efforts.

We had been watching the wheel for hours, ready to pounce, when I had an idea. “Count Taureau,” I said, “Do you eat chestnuts on Christmas?”

He took my meaning immediately. “Yes, but they’re buggers to open unless you’ve had them in the fire for a time.”

Within the hour, we had a colossal bonfire built around the wheel. As the steel began to glow, the doorway opened and the rest of the demons scrambled out of the proverbial frying pan. The ones who escaped the fire, we cut down like cordwood. I slew three of them myself.

They were disgusting creatures. Summoned straight from our nightmares, given shape by our own fears, or at least intensified by them. Huge, eight-foot tall invaders. Most thought they were devils - they resembled earthborn goats in a remarkable fashion, with the same sort of heads and horns, with a more crouched, human like physique. They walked on two legs, and from their forearms grew long, wicked blades.Their entire bodies were covered with a deep, crimson fur. The things that made them truly terrifying, though, were their faces. Twisted mockeries of humans, these things that looked so like us but so different at the same time. They came down hard and fast, tearing through Western Europe at an alarming pace. Our own armies couldn't stand up to the onslaught. They used weapons far beyond our understanding and their communication was quick and flawless. We were torn apart.

It was my job to fight these Lucifati, as they were called. Only a few cities remained as human bastions of power in this new world. I was stationed in Rome. It seemed that the only cities that remained were central to world faiths - Jerusalem, Mecca, Rome, even Tokyo. My battalion of mercenaries had been fighting for a good two years - never once did we see a female or child of this beastly race.

I gathered up the troops. Hopefully, this run to Venice would be routine, just like all the times we'd come to a town, blast away a few hundred of them with an area carpet bombing, and then go in while they were still regrouping and slaughter them all like animals in a barnyard. Today though, we'd fight for every inch of ground, and it would be a graveyard by the time we were through. The rest of the squad seemed to realize this as they packed into APCs and choppers and got ready to move.

I prepared myself mentally. Adric, This will be just like the rest. How many times have you taken a slash from their blades? How many times have you cut them down with your own vicious anger and turned the tides of battle for your own men? How many times has god intervened and fought off the minions of Satan? You are chosen, you will conquer with the divine fist on your side.

The APC stopped with a sickening lurch. The silence was only broken by clicks of loading ARs and the stink of sweat mingled with the heavier, oppressive stink of fear. This battle would be costly, but every man was ready to die in god's name.

The doors flung open and out we dove. The city was aflame, and the devils were already scattering. My team ran down one or two of them, and the third we chased turned on us, impaling one rifleman and slamming his heavy mass into another two. with four other soldiers, we managed to cut the beast down with a barrage of gunfire. Three out of my fifteen men were down already. The remaining Lucifati in my sector blockaded themselves in a church a few hundred yards off.

As we flung open the door, we saw nothing. the firelight danced through the stained glass windows, making the room a visual cacophony of colors. behind the altar sat a large statue of Mother Mary at the feet of her crucified son. One came out from the darkness, and we shot him as soon as he made a sound. We advanced toward the altar... was that whimpering I heard? Surely no human here had survived.

I motioned for the rest of my troops to back up. I approached the altar, and as I turned the corner with my rifle readied and peered under the table, I was shocked. There before me, huddled in the chaos, was what could only be a Lucifati female, with a nearly human sized head with tiny horns, a more delicate, feminine body, and piercing, pleading eyes. The whimpers were coming from the tiny babe she clutched in her arms, this blind, hairless pup, crying for the mother. It shook, and it shivered. It must have been very sick.

I couldn't help but lower my weapon and stare. The Lucifati were satans indeed - but could this soft, delicate creature and her young really be more trickery of the dark one? I beckoned for my troops to search the perimeter, and frantically searched for a blanket or some such thing. A dead priest was wrapped in a scarf. I crossed myself and took the scarf from the father, and held out my arm gently to the mother. She timidly took it from my arm, and wrapped the child in it.

So these are the victims of war, I thought. Frightened mothers and sick children, longing for an end to the chaos.

After the Great Burning so many thousands of cycles ago, all was changed in our world. How it changed has became more of a mystery as the stories grow distant. Our home has since replenished itself, and those creatures touched by the Green Fire have long died out. The Elders say it was a slow process, but they never let us forget.

But we live in content. Then one day, I was sitting on a plateau away from the Main Assembly. From there I saw the fire in the sky and the falling rock. Something about its path made me ponder, for it did not fall in a natural manner. When the sky was illuminated by a shaft of dazzling light, I realized it was not a rock but something strange and alive. I was mesmerized. I watched in awe as the creature hovered without motion, spurting fire, then eased slowly down onto one of the rocks that separates the valley from the Great Sea.

I ran lightly from tree to tree with great agility until I came close to this strange creature.
What I saw filled me with wonder. Its carapace glistened, as shiny as some of the strong earth washed down by the heavy rains; its eyes were sightless bulges at the front of a snub head; its legs were stiff and did not move, simply acting to hold up the body of this bizarre entity, which was now completely immobile.

Then, to my amazement, a hole appeared in its side and out slipped two beings whose form and structure lay far beyond all the powers of my imagination. Truly alien and terrifying, they appeared to balance clumsily on their appendages, which were few, wriggling in a most unseemly manner. Instead of a head, they had one single eye balanced on the top of a thorax that was so bizarre I could not readily apprehend it.

I tried to contact them – signals, sending, talking – using all my powers, to say: “Welcome to Rakna, Alien. Even though you are so different, you are fellow creatures and deserve to live. Peace.” But there was no reply. They might as well have been totally deaf and blind.

Then something unforeseen happened.
A large group of very young children came scrambling over the hill. They stopped dead when they saw this amazing sight. Then one of them, a rather tempestuous young male, always in trouble, ran towards the Aliens, possibly to show off his daring. It was a disastrous event, for blue fire suddenly splashed from one of the creatures.
There is a Rakni emotion that, at its lowest level, causes a group response of panic. If the effect is increased, it elevates to a frenzy of attack. As an adult, I can control myself. But the children could not. The very air fibrilliated with the energy of lust as the youngsters streamed towards the Aliens with one single imperative: “Kill, kill, kill!”

In the mothership, Captain Jenna listened to the intercom, aghast at the screams of the two men.
"Cap'n Jenna! Emergency! Oh my, they are huge! Hundreds of them, Cap'n!" There was an agonized scream, then a deathly silence.
Shocked, Jenna did not immediately contact the rest of the crew, who thought this was a standard EV event. Instead, he sat and stared down at the lovely blue-green orb that lay below the mothership.

A thousand years ago the last of Mankind had escaped in the Noah, the first ship equipped with Hyperdrive. Leaving an Earth torn apart by nuclear strife, it found a wormhole, and Jumped.
Mankind now occupied the stars, but the site of Old-Home had become shrouded in legend. In its earlier, more primitive form, each Hyperdrive Jump had been a flip of the coin, as the Space/Time paradigm changed. Thus, the location of Old-Home had been lost forever.

Totally by accident, Jenna had found Earth – and he had only conceded it was so after consulting some of the old star charts. At present, he was the only one who knew. Below him lay Man’s former home, not just healed from Mankind's excesses, but even more lovely and luxuriant.

Sadly, he realized that it no longer belonged to Mankind. And why should it? he thought heavily. Mankind had destroyed it. He considered briefly what would happen should he report his findings: the furor of interest, the demands to return; then war, strife, and the destruction of its present inhabitants, who deserved it more than Man ever did.

Instead, he made his decision: “Captain to Flight Deck. Prepare to Jump. This planet is uninhabitable.”
He took one last look at the green and verdant orb. Perhaps it was ironic, but it was Man who was the Alien now. The Earth had finally been inherited by the meek and lowly, who had restored it from Man’s ravages and made it bloom ― the Insects.

“You know, I was abducted by aliens once.”
“No, you weren’t!”
“Yes, I was!”
“No, you were not!”
“Was!”

I sighed inwardly. Friday night, three beers down, it was time for the Lars Gacan Storytime. I don’t know why I even bother contradicting. Once Lars sets off on a tack, you can’t bring him down with anything short of a right hook. Or a couple of pints. Which is probably the reason why he keeps coming up with the most outrageous, ludicrous, hare-brained stories.

Lars pushed back a lock of greasy hair and leaned back on his bar stool.

“It was last summer, you know, when they reported all that weird crap about ball lightning and weather balloons upsetting the traffic control over at Heathrow.”
He looked at me.
“Well, it wasn’t no lightning or weather balloons. It was genuine aliens!”

Stan, another pub regular, turned around scowling indignantly.
“There weren’t no reports about stuff like that last summer!”

“Aha, of course not,” Lars grinned triumphantly, “because they hushed it up!”

I felt like banging my head against the fake marble of the bar. Only I didn’t ‘cause it would probably stick there. If people would only learn not to let themselves be goaded by the typical Lars Gacan Opening Lines, we would have a lot more peace and quiet in here.

Now it was too late. Lars revved up and spun out another tale of absolutely, totally preposterous bull droppings.

“I was driving home from work, when suddenly, out of nowhere – say, can someone get me another beer? Ah, yes, cheers, mate! Where was I?”
He put on his puzzled Professor act.

I sighed once again.
“…suddenly, out of nowhere…,” I prompted.

His face lit up.

“Indeed, out of nowhere, there was this huge flying thing which gulped up my car and flitted off into the atmosphere.”

He stared around wildly.
“Aliens! They had me! They took me to this big chamber, full of gizmos and stuff. And then they attached me to this electrical gimmick and started asking me all sorts of questions.”

Someone in the back piped up, yelling, “yeah, I know, like, ‘don’t you have a valid driving license, sir?’”.
Lars sneered, annoyed at being interrupted.
“Very funny, Simmons, but it wasn’t like that. No, actually it was all about politics and stuff. And then they started taking biopsy samples from me to perform their hideous experiments!”

“Oh, no, they cloned Lars!”, someone yelled, “we’re doomed! Hide the beer!”

His animated monologue had finally drawn in the crowd he was hoping for. Even the fellas at the pool table had stopped to listen.

“But the amazing thing, guys,” he said, wildly gesticulating with his glass and spilling half of the contents in the process, “the really, absolutely amazing thing was, that it healed right up!”
He beamed beatifically.
“No blood, no nothing!”

He lifted his shirt to reveal a bulging, pale-white beer belly.
“See? Fixed me up even better than before! Not a scar on me! They even fixed the scar from my appendicitis!”

The guys who had interrupted their game of pool groaned and turned back to the table.
I rolled my eyes.

“Come on, Lars, you never had an appendicitis. Maybe they should’ve fixed your liver instead. Seems to me that all that alcohol is killing of a couple of brain cells too many.”

He grumbled, turning back to the bar.
“Did, too! Had an appendicitis when I was seven.”

”Oh, come on,” someone from the crowd yelled, “leave him alone. Let’s hear the rest!”

Only I saw the brief, pleased smile as Lars turned around again.

“Well, so I said to them, please let me go! I got a wife and three kids!”

“You ain’t got no kids, Lars.”

Simmons cackled from the back.
“Well, maybe they’re looking out of other peoples’ windows!”

The crowd snickerd, and Lars reeled but managed to once again latch onto the attention of his audience.

“No, seriously! Listen! So I asked them nicely, I begged and pleaded with them. Please take me home, I said. Please! Take me home!”

I swear to God, there were actually tears in his eyes.

“And you know what they did?”

The crowd hung expectantly on his every word. With a superior smile, Lars sipped on his beer.

“They dropped me off right here in front of the pub.”

Two probing eyes sliced through the thick desert fog of night. The grinding of the gears sounded like an angered beast prowling the sun scorched land. Painted black, it appeared in the distance as living darkness crawling the night by. Beneath the sound of the rumbling tired motor lived a collection of screams and combined cries for help. Small hands plastered the panes it wore down both sides. In the pitch of night lives evil and this vehicle brings the souls it must feed on.

***

“This just doesn’t seem right anymore man.”

“Oh here it comes; I’ve been waiting for this. Don’t tell me you’re finally growing a conscience somewhere inside that heart of ice. You used to be rock solid. Duty first; giving a damn second. Don’t think I haven’t noticed either, you’ve been slowly slipping. You better stiffen your act up and quick. You better cut those emotions off your sleeve before they see them. They won’t be as understanding as me and you know that.”

“I don’t know man, we’ve done our duty. It’s time to retire now man. I want out of this gig.”

“The only way out of this disappeared a long time ago. We’re in this now for the survival of the species and you know that. Now maybe if we had stood up against them back in the fifty’s when this all started, we might’ve stood a chance. That day has done come and gone now though. Everyone is too set in their ways now to fight.”

“I’m not talking about fighting, I’m talking about running. This is my last drop. In the morning I’m running and not looking back. We could make it man, I know we could.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I won’t try to stand in your way or report you. But the fact of the matter remains, I’ve hardened to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore. A job is a job man and this is my job for life. Now shut up and enjoy the ride.”

***

The prison bus and its captives rolled on. A metal cage separated the guard and its driver from the meat. The worn metal framing that held the windows had been welded closed years ago. The stale air reeked of urine and stool only slightly over powered by the smell of fear.

The walls which comprise this traveling tomb had heard every plea possible over the years. A machine is born with the gift of being soulless. The flesh which commands it are never as fortunate, but then again, time has a way of slowly eating souls away. But don’t cry for the feeders for they chose their job. United we stand.

***

“Please let me go mister. My mommy will be missing me by now.”

“If you let us go we promise not to tell what we’ve seen.”

“Please mister.”

***

The night was as still as death. Only the bus moved through the night; all that lived here had been eaten or ran years ago. Since the fifties, all countries paid their dues. They only came to earth to feed once a year. The rest of the time we traveled to them. Billions in what they had fooled the public in thinking was being spent on space exploration was really funding meat deliveries. Human flesh was the meat of preference and this planet possessed an abundance of choice cuts.

They had been riding nearly an hour when the bus finally stopped just inside of the feeding zone.

***

“What’re you doing man? We’re almost there. Let’s get this drop done and head home. Hey wait, what’s that gun for? You know bullets can’t hurt them. We found that out years ago. Besides, I thought you were planning to run in the morning.”

“I can’t do this anymore! These are just little kids for Christ sake!”

“You know as well as I do, the younger the better. You remember when we used to have to make this run three times a night don’t you? That was when we used to bring them adults. For some reason when they feed on children they need less. It’s not like we have to watch. They always take about half back with them anyways.”

“Listen to yourself man! You’re justifying feeding small children to those beasts! All these years’ people thinking perverts were taking their children when we were really feeding them to aliens!”

Two shots blasted out the back side of the guards head freeing his brain from its skull.

"I couldn’t do it anymore man. God I’m sorry but I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

***

The driver attempted to turn the bus around but it was too late. The aliens had seen their meal approach.

The lights came on again, momentarily blinding him. He shut his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light filtering through his eyelids. Slowly, he opened them, got to his feet and looked around the room.

Nothing had changed. The room was still nearly bare. The walls, floor and ceiling were all a metallic white, harshly reflecting light from a source he still couldn’t identify. The only items in the room were two large bowls on the floor. One contained water. The other contained some dry meal that tasted faintly of beef and rice. He found this out once his hunger eventually got the best of him and overruled his suspicion.

How long had he been here? A couple of days? A week? Longer? He’d lost track of time ever since…

The memory was fading again. He struggled to keep hold of it, trying to keep the mental picture clear, but the details kept disappearing. He remembered driving. Where? That detail was already gone. It was late and his car stalled and then…

Then he was here. Damn! Why couldn’t he remember anything else?

A faint hum from behind got his attention. In the split second it took for him to spin around, he both hoped and dreaded that he might finally witness his captors. Instead, he saw a small rubber fall on the floor.

He looked around the room. He saw no doors, no windows, no manner by which this object could have entered the room. Yet here it was, and it was placed here just now.

“Hey!” He yelled out. “Who are you? Where am I?”

He waited for a response. Receiving none, he picked up the ball and furiously threw it in a random direction. It bounced off a wall, hit the floor, bounced back up and hit the opposite wall before losing its kinetic energy and rolling to a stop at his feet. Frustrated, he sank to his knees and slowly rocked back into a sitting position on the floor.

He didn’t know what to do. So, with an air of resignation, he simply picked up the ball and bounced it against the wall repeatedly until the lights went out again.

----------------------------------------------------

Elsewhere, Fe’lyn looked away from the holographic monitor and began typing into a computer.

SUBJECT RESPONSIVE TO STIMULUS.

The door slid open and her daughter Ky’ten entered the room.

“Honey, what are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to come by when mommy’s working”

“I’m bored, mommy. And I wanted to see the people.”

“You mean ‘person’, dear. ‘Person’ is one. ‘People’ are more than one. Can you say ‘person’?”

“Yeah! Purrrrson.”

“Very good, sweetheart. Now please go back to your living quarters. Mommy’s almost done for the day and will be home shortly.”

Ky’ten looked at the monitor. Her whiskers trembled with glee. “When you’re done studying the purrrrson, do you think we can keep it?”

“I don’t know, dear. It’s a wild animal.”

“But he looks so cute and harmless!”

Fe’lyn licked her left paw and brushed it against her face. “He does look rather harmless. And all he really does is eat and sleep.” She leaned down and licked back a clump of fur standing askew at the top of Ky’ten’s head. “Mommy will think about it. But if we keep it, you’ll have to promise to take good care of it.”

“Oh yes, mommy! I will!”

“And we’ll have to get it neutered.”

“What’s noo-turd?”

“Mommy will explain later. Right now you have to let her finish working.”

“OK! See you later, mommy!”

Ky’ten scampered out of the room, her tail swishing joyfully back and forth. Her mother watched lovingly as she left and then turned her attention back to the test subject. After making a note in the log to reward the subject with extra food tomorrow, she turned off the lights in the observation room.

Upon being surrounded by darkness once again, the ‘person’ let loose a string of profanities. To Fe’lyn, it just sounded like guttural animal noise and she paid it no mind. Instead, she wondered what to bring home for dinner as she powered down the lab equipment. Maybe she’d pick up some mouse patties from the cafeteria on level 9. She heard they were extremely succulent lately.

Through heavy eyelids tall plant-like creatures loom over me in the twilight. My tattered pyjamas feel damp and something small and spongy is slowly probing my ear. I awake to find myself amongst the dew-soaked shrubbery of the immaculately manicured front garden of Mrs. Montague’s' house, her tiny dog is licking my face. I shoo him off, he scatters with a yelp. The faraway jingle of the bottles on the Milkman's electric float tells me it is a weekday morning and that it is way too early for a student such as myself to be awake. Drained and sleepy I cross the street to my house and hope that the key is still hidden under the terracotta so I can get back into bed unnoticed. I enjoy my trips with Assilium but it is a weary business and he has never quite mastered the successful return of my body to its rightful place in my bed. I think he enjoys seeing me squirm under the intense interrogation of my surprised neighbours who constantly find me floundering amongst their prized flowerbeds.

I first met Assilium in a chat room, he told me he was new to the University and did I mind if he joined my gang for a few drinks. We continued to converse by email and often found ourselves blind drunk together down at a popular S.U Bar in town, though I had never actually seen him around campus I thought nothing of it; the place is enormous. He told me about his true past a number of times but I couldn't take him seriously, we would either be drunk or high and I blamed it on the substances. On one of these occasions I challenged him to prove his claims.
He accepted, I laughed.
He disappeared, I fainted.

Eight months later and I am now a fully fledged space traveller, though unable to understand the technology and processes of it all Assilium gladly takes me along whenever he feels I'd enjoy visiting a place on his list. He takes great pains to rid me of my stereotypical view of 'aliens.' He is perfectly human in genome and dimension, one of just 20 such civilisations through the whole Universe. The only differences between our races are our views on power; they seek not to control but to experience. He doesn't travel by ship; the distances are far too huge to plod along inside of an inanimate object. He works for the Government of his planet circumnavigating the galaxy seeking out civilised life forms and assessing their potential (i.e. for hostility.) The job isn't terribly well paid, he complains, but it has its perks particularly an excellent dental plan.

The sun was barely holding on. The streets were lifeless and grim. I sat there, on a rough and uncomfortable chair, not knowing what to expect next. "Michael," she mumbled, "I feel them." I should have believed her, but I knew not to. If I had trusted her instinct, then maybe she would still be here today. Or, by some strange coincidence, it would be her telling my story.

We all knew Louise had a gift, but it wasn't singing or piano. No, her gift was different. She knew things that no one else would take the time to think about, such as why poor old Eugenia down the street never returned her clothes that didn't fit. Yes, Louise had a gift. A very special one.

"Please, Louise, calm down," I replied. She merely glanced up at me, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Michael," she whipered," It's real this time. I know it." I grabbed her hand and returned her glance. " Don't worry," I said, " The doctor will be here soon."

The day I brought the baby home was the most memorable day of my life. No, not because of the diapers or the smell of new clothes, but because of the loneliness. Louise and one of the twins hadn't survived. As I clutched little Elliot, the thought of why I hadn't believed my wife lingered above both of us. When I tucked Elliot in bed, and said goodnight to the last mourner, I felt a hunch. Not a silly hunch, but one of Louise's hunches. Her voice echoed in my head, "I feel them." This time, it wasn't the twins.

I couldn't bear it any longer, I had to check on the baby. He was there, safe and sound. I took a long, deep breath and walked back into my room. "How is he?" asked a man in a black suit, standing next to the bed. "You don't have to answer, just listen," he said, noticing my fright and bewilderment at this stranger's unexpected arrival. "I am not here, nor do I exist. I'm a figment of your imagination, a character in your dream. Your wife didn't die from health or medical reasons, Michael, but from a broken past. She wasn't one of your kind, Mr. Tuluz, but a foreigner. After tonight, she won't have existed either. We will employ a new wife, a new set of inlaws. Your family will not remember Louise either, and neither will dear Elliot. But promise me, Michael Tuluz, that by the time Elliot turns 11 and 1 third, he will have heard nothing of his own mother or this encounter. When he turns 11 and 4 months, he won't exist either. I will see you, Michael, August 29, 2028. Goodbye." He disappeared in a flash.

Today is August 27, 2028 and I am counting down the days, the hours, the minutes. Was the man a dream, was he a nothing? I will soon know. Elliot has grown so tall, his new mother Carla so proud, and they all will soon change forever. I will get a new family, Carla will be shipped back to her own planet. My life will never be the same. Oh, if only I had listened to Dear Louise. If only.

Crouching quietly in the dark, I could hear the alien ship's central monitor emitting unfamiliar images and sounds all around me. My escape had gone unnoticed.

A peculiar language could be heard- it was if from another world, probably light years from our own. The pounding of my own heart, and forcibly shallow breathing seemed to echo in my hiding place as I studied my environment. I could only surmise what the alien being sitting in it’s console chair was viewing, or the plans it had for me.

My unfamiliar surroundings threatened to crush me from all sides as I traced and retraced my first steps from the holding cell to my present location. Every indication from this upside-down world was leading me to a frightening conclusion- I was trapped.

I drew myself into a shadowy corner for a moment to plan for what would probably be a futile attempt at escape, but to where? The figure in the chair had not alerted to my presence as it was most assuredly fixated on the monitor in the room.

How had I gotten in this situation? I had to think clearly.

My pulse seemed to quicken as my fingers grasped the floor. I would make for the main door to the ship and secure my freedom. The alien being however, would it notice my darting figure as I raced through the shadows along the far edge of the room?

Only the grey light from the monitor flickered candle-like reflections across the ceiling and over the contents of the room. Like a thief in the night, I would need to be much more stealthful than a fleeing deer.

Suddenly, I heard a noise which made my skin crawl and my breathing stagger in pure terror. There was something low to the ground approaching in the opposite direction as if searching, but for what? If my absence was discovered...

The sounds approached closer, and I felt as though I would leap from my seclusion at any moment and run screaming in all directions. It was then that I caught my first glimpse of the creature from which the terrifying sounds came.

Smaller and different in appearance from the one in the console chair, it turned the corner adjacent to where I lay and was heading toward me. It maneuvered on four appendages in a sickening manner along the corridor. The head of the beast had a large mouth, and I could easily make out two rows of long formidable teeth.

It’s focus was mostly on the floor of the ship and my fear escalated as I concluded it’s sweeping motion must be that of something with one purpose- to search and destroy. If it hadn’t been for the steady noise in the adjoining room, my loud and horrified breathing might have given me away at any moment.

The creature was getting closer, and had not yet seen me. I began to shrink further back into the corner and held my hand over my mouth so as not betray my presence. Closing my eyes, I brought my arms and legs inward to make myself as small as possible.

After a few moments, I ventured to peer out into the darkness of the hallway. The creature had lumbered directly by me without stopping! The monitor continued it’s garbled oration, and I raised my head slightly for a better look.

I shouldn’t have looked up.

The alien in the chair was now standing directly above me. I tore out in an effort to run for my life but it was much too fast and nearly four times my size. Two long arms shot out and caught me firmly by the back of my shirt. The powerful grasp held me fast, and I was instantly propelled upwards and secured tightly against it’s large body.

I quickly realized we were heading for the room from which I had awoke as prisoner and emissary of all humanity. I struggled to twist myself free but the being only made low guttural tones and held me tighter.

We entered the same room from which I had escaped, and the observation table was instantly illuminated by the brightness of a light directly above.

The alien placed me on my back and a series of holding shields I previously had overcome were drawn up just under my head.

It was looking down at me now, and I back at it. Those eyes, they had the same hollow stare as the searching creature.

Looking beyond the entrance of the room, it called out and another figure appeared. It leaned over me and looked down, much with the same disdain as it’s companion.

It was that alien who spoke now, and strangely enough I could instantly understand what it said.

“I am not going to tell you again son, stay in your bed and go to sleep”…

With my wild six-year-old imagination and my dog at my feet, I secretly began to make plans for my next escape.

If I recall correctly, this incident took place the day of Thanksgiving of 2001. I had been on the road for two days heading towards the great American Midwest on a stretch of deserted rural highway. As the seas of wheat fields flew by in the sunset, I observed a circular metallic object fly by overheard only to disappear less than a second after first being spotted. It was sunny out and dry as well, I had attributed this phenomenon to some type of mirage. I took a glance at the clock/radio in my car’s dashboard, it was 5:45 in the evening, and I decided to hit the gas a little harder, so as not to be late to the family get-together at which I was expected. I drove on, past one poor little town, then the next; the sun had nearly sunk below the horizon in entirety and a cool, calm darkness enveloped the land. Feeling relaxed, I rolled the windows down in my pale-gray 1992 Nissan Sentra and cranked up the stereo, some rock station I’ve never heard of (after all this was my first drive through this part of the country) played some metal piece with the surprisingly relevant lyrics of, “Roll the windows down, let the cool night air in...” and other things of this nature. If nirvana is an existing mental state, a state of total peace and balance within the mind, then I had found it that moment, without ever having to look or even notice at the time. With this growing sense of pure relaxation and serenity, my eyes, almost involuntarily, closed.

The moment my eyes had closed completely I was overtaken by a loud, violent vibration. The hum was that of one of those electrical transformer boxes intensified thousands upon thousands of times over and my eyes flew open only to be blinded by an intense, burning light. Naturally I slammed in the breaks, because of course I’m not the type who would fly down a highway at 80 miles per hour when unable to see. As the Sentra came to its sudden halt, I quickly stepped out of the car, as I had felt extremely short of breath (despite the windows being rolled down in the car). Finding that the air outside the vehicle seemed no more breathable I fell to the ground, landing with my head and shoulders resting on the side of the car next to the tire and my legs stretched across the highway, the two lanes’ dividing line beneath the position of my knees. The painfully bright glow was still around. Through my peripheral vision I’d noticed I was being approached by two people. Though I was unable to move my neck and look over, I assumed they were motorists who saw me lying pathetically on the highway. “Help me please, I’m feeling real friggin’ sick, ya gotta help me out man, I can barely see, man, I can’t breathe!” The people got closer, I now knowing that people were aware of me in this position, that I wouldn’t be left to die on the highway, felt at ease about letting go of consciousness and slipped into sleep.

I had awaken, on what had evidently been a hospital bed, a good sign, it meant to me that I was being taken care of. It had now become a matter of waiting for a doctor to show up, tell me what the problem was, suggest a solution, let me call my family to let them know why I hadn’t made it to their Thanksgiving dinner, they would of course understand and life would begin as it left off. A few minutes passed and a rather short man walked in typical medical attire entered the room, which looked similar enough to any other operating room I’ve ever seen, aside from a few unfamiliar instruments, but the only time I’ve seen an “OR” was on the TV and one couldn’t expect those types to get it right. “You’re wondering what happened are you not?” he inquired, almost amused sounding. “Yeah, what was it?” I had answered with a question. The doctor seemed even more amused and then shifted to serious tone, “We cannot say yet, we’ll be running tests though, well find what we’re looking for and then you’ll be out of here and go about your life.” Something about him phrasing the answer like that seemed peculiar and filled me with a fair degree of uneasiness. “How long have I been here?” I asked trying to figure exactly what the situations. “A couple of days” he answered as an equally short orderly entered the room with a look of grave disgust upon seeing me. Clearly shocked, she asks the doctor, “Were we all so large and ugly back then?”