Tuesday, December 1, 2015

And then there was one (part of the fractal series)

By now you must be familiar with Tim, that oddball cousin of Gerad's. Recently we found a little story he wrote (and even more recently, we found more). We're not certain if this was before or after he knew aliens, but it certainly speaks to a certain personality, doesn't it? So enjoy and bask in the following.

The blue sky, this late in summer, this long after we’d come to be familiar with the cold, was more than welcome. But as I drove around after work, running errands, as one can only run errands in suburbia: sloshing between parking lots in a car. But even then, seeing one too many accidents, I sensed something was amiss, but checking my Twitter feed gave me no information. For a second, as I paused upon opening my car door, the smell of fried-something hanging strong in my nostrils, I glanced up and saw hundreds of black spots in the white-blue sky. Each time I tried to look directly at a spot, they would all vaporize. Gone. This happened enough times—these dots in the sky and sky alone—only in my periphery that I soon had vertigo.

A passer-by, one of those friendly small towners, asked me if I was okay. I asked her what she saw in the sky and she looked up, then looked at me and asked if I needed medical attention.

I went home feeling sick, wondering if I’d lost my bearings. The next day I went to work in the dark, the early-morning pain filled shift. The abandoned streets seemed odd, but I tried to avoid any and all wondering thoughts about what was going on. And I surpassed my very instinct to go back home to ready for … something.

My work’s parking lot was also empty and as I entered the building—fluorescent lights flickering—I knew I should have stayed home.

No one was around and still I looked about. Only when I was about to open the door to the lounge did I hear something indicating life in the building. Against my best instincts I entered. In the lounge there sat a man in a grey suit, a top hat, and an empty can of sardines and a half bottle of vodka.

“You’re late,” he said. I realized he wasn’t talking

My heart pumped hard and dropped a heavy acid into my guts.

he shook his head hard and pointed at the window. It was light out now and in the sky hovered large black spacecraft. He raised his hat and walked out. I should have taken this as blessing but feeling an aloneness so profound it cracked me open with longing, I chased him.

“Where is everyone?” He looked at me and pointed back at the crafts.

“Everyone?”

“Not you.”

“Why?”

He squinted at my question: “We wanted everyone but you.” My heart dropped, for I knew he was not lying.

“Why?”

“We have no use for you.”


“But everyone?” I couldn’t believe it even though I knew it.

“I need a reason?”

It was a challenge. “What are you going to do with them? What was I late for?” But he didn’t answer, and in a handful of seconds, between my disbelief, then my mind and body freezing, he flew to a craft and they all took off, burning off the clouds as they turned into specks then nothing.

And I was alone. I went back through the building, hoping I was only mad, but nothing. Neither did anyone reply to my calls. I was alone.



Enjoyed the writing? Please share it via email, facebook, twitter, or one of the buttons below (or through some other method you prefer). Thank you! As always, here's the tip jar. Throw some change in there and help cover the costs!

Then Subscribe to my mailing list

* indicates required
Email Format

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please comment to add to the discussion. Be kind. But let the democratic ideal lead you. And no spamming!