The alien moved in a very fast type of space craft and arrived out of nowhere, with a BANG!, and bored a sealed hole into his craft.  There was literally this sudden, loud noise, like a flash-bang, and before Joshua knew it there was this creature entering the cockpit of his spacecraft. To his eyes, it looked like a kind of network of flowing geometric patterns.  At least, until his eyes acclimated…

Within seconds of its invasion, the alien knocked him unconscious.  He awoke with his body shoved partway into its foreign craft…

Josh shook his head and tried to forget the memory.  He was safe, it was many years later.  The shape of the wide, deep sun visor came into focus over his head.  He flipped it up, since it was overcast today, and turned the ignition key.  The hull started humming, beginning at an extremely low slow vibration and speeding up until subtle…then the craft lifted and sped forward along the airstrip and angled upwards, and curled out of the planet’s atmosphere into space,…


Rachel smiled grimly at the floor, while she felt the prickly tentacle brush across the back of her neck.  Her eyes were very wide and pressurized and thoughts had a fleeting, vapid quality to them.  The tentacle felt like a cat’s tongue, but it was even stranger since it was coated in a slimy, slippery liquid.

“…and we’ll peel the fingernails off of your left hand now.  And then crush it too?”  The being smiled, although it had no face.  It’s smile was inferred from the way it imprinted abstractions into the language center of Rachel’s mind.

Rachel twitched and ran her left hand down the front of her torso, where it just kind of slipped over her breasts and landed on her left thigh. She could feel the sharp, vice-like, primal, hot, white-hot pain of her pinky’s fingernail being peeled off.  She started mumbling and screaming…”Oh!  OH GOD!  Just…ha….OH, AHHHHHH FUU, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH….”

This continued with each of the fingernails on her left hand.  She could barely focus on anything.  It was like the way you feel after a long jog, right when you stop moving your feet.  There’s this moment when you’re lost in the fog of recovery.

But suddenly, like an angel, the thought of her mother appeared.  She could imagine her standing there…

The creature moved up to her again, and smiled.  “…you’re taking too long.  We’re going to kill you.” It began to tighten the hairs on its hand.

And Rachel whispered, very quickly, “Yes, I am ready.”  She smiled tightly, and like a burst of light turned her head to look at the creature.  She felt powerful, very powerful at this exact moment. A glowing orb flying high above torment.  “Please kill me, I’m ready.”


The backdoor was open so he left without a word.  But before he left he took a massive gulp of whiskey, hoping that something would be drowned a little bit.  Walking across the backyard, the sky was a finger smashing him.  Reality a thin blade, slipping in and out of his gut.  Death a kind of guardian angel.  He was walking through another yard, adjacent to Sarah’s.  He thought too much.  The whiskey made it more see-through and for a second it was like every other frame was Pat going on a fun little adventure.

But there was still the spirit, always somewhere and threatening if he thought too hard about how good he had it.

He slithered out between a broken board in the southern fence.  Pat was on a street now.  The sun was actually really beautiful, and he tried to empty things out of his mind to appreciate it.  Pale faced, like a ghost not worth noticing, he wandered down the street.  Muttering to himself, and whenever someone would walk past him he would act composed for a moment, but he knew they knew.  Suddenly Pat realized his cell phone wasn’t on him.  Fuck!  It was at Sarah’s.  She might be worried.  No…

He had told himself that morning that he was going to relax.  So Pat sat down on a small grassy hill.  It was so odd how beautiful Seattle was, so often.  This city full of its Amazon employees and…

How odd that the saddest people often are ridiculed…so often their sadness is glossed over and people only have the energy to pick up their missteps.  How terrible.  For most people the preceding sentences will bring up a vague recollection of some kind of disgusting behavior on their part but he couldn’t imagine the thought going any further than that.  It was as if karma had destined them for some kind of vague, cosmic royalty and the sad and ugly were the damned.

The sad and the ugly were the damned…

He wondered if anyone else realized that, when one hates a specific person, they are contributing to that person’s suffering in real-time…they are the wrathful god.

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