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  • Writer's picturemarikenney


Here is an excerpt from a story I'm working through.

It's about aliens.



None of this happened, if you want to believe that. The end of the world parts, anyway, are technically true. A girl I knew really was thrown from the sky after the end of the world began. Another person I knew really did use explosives to try and fight the invaders. But most people don’t remember any of that.

I really did search the galaxies with lasers in 2035. It looked a lot like a speckled, dark room, more than the vastness of space. There must be billions of burning balls of gas out there.

I tried to go back there, but since reality has shifted, space flight is no longer an option. Additionally, I find that in this new reality, aliens aren’t even a hidden thought in anyone’s mind. A shame. Since the aliens were the ones who concocted this new reality.

I’m tired of playing along with the rules, though. I saw the power they showed - and to just forget that, is sad in my opinion. When I try to remind others of what happened, so many years ago, I’m met with vacant stares. I don’t have many friends anymore. Mostly because the majority died during the fight and the others have forgotten and find my company taxing.

I don’t blame them. I would too. I tried to let it go. The dreams of the fights. The battles that we all fought, but memories can be very powerful things. Mine being the strongest.

I’ve slowly drifted away from polite society and found a shed to rest my visions. Being alone makes the memories more concrete yet more difficult to describe. More difficult for someone to accept it as truth.

So, I’ve decided to write it down. Hopefully, someone will find my writings and remember. Remember how we once lived. Who we once were. It’s a hope.

March 21, 2033.

The day the earth ended.

My name is Ralph. I’m fifty-eight years old. When the world ended, I was fishing. I was on the lake alone, early in the morning when I saw it. What looked like two hands poking out from the sky, ripping the blue in half, revealing a bright, glowing pink background.

A face appeared. Much like a human, but thousands of feet high in the sky. And very large. Its eyes surveyed the earth, as I kept my pole in the water. Didn’t know what else to do. I waited. I assume, like most people had - waited to see what this face would do.

The thing finally did speak. Don’t know how long it waited, time was the last thing I had been thinking at that moment. When it spoke, the voice echoed throughout the world.

“It’s time.”

That’s all it spoke and then poof. The sky was back to normal and I had a bite on my line.

When I got home, my wife looked scared. I knew she had seen it. She didn’t say anything, but just pulled me in and held me. I kissed her head. Didn’t know what else to do.

We didn’t speak of the face - we didn’t have to. The rest of the world was doing it for us. We watched the news, read the articles - but what we found with each story was that no one on the earth had any idea what in the hell was going on.

So we just continued our life and waited for the fallout. It did come, but much later, and not because of the face in the sky.

It was three weeks later when the ships arrived. The beings were funny looking creatures. Big heads, small eyes, large mouths - with big pearly white teeth.

Sarah, my wife, thought they looked like mutated game show hosts. I could see it. The creatures didn’t try to make contact. They landed their ships, looked around, and then started to fire.

I don’t know what kind of weapons they had, but they were strong enough to vaporize anyone who got in their way. Sarah and I stayed indoors during this time. The creatures seemed to stay clear of us - we let them do what they wanted - and they let us live.

I wish I could have said that for the rest of the world.

Some tried to fight the aliens. But our weapons were no match for wherever they were from. Brad, our neighbor, made a stand one night and went after a group of them with a bazooka he had gotten off the black market.

Much good it did him.

He ran out, screaming and hollering and pulled the trigger - blasting the weapon into the crowd of creatures. After the smoke cleared, Brad said the aliens looked like they were laughing at him. Thank goodness they were, because it gave Brad enough time to retreat back to his house.

He came over later that night and told us about the ordeal. He was still pretty shaken up about it. That was the last time we saw Brad and his house. When we woke up the next morning, his house was gone.

Like it had never been there before.

When I asked my wife about Brad, she looked confused and asked, “Who is Brad?”

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