08-14-2009

Start Fiction:


     And so it begins.
     Ron had always known his dreams were somehow not just dreams, yet they weren't prophetic, either. They were memories. Memories from years of abductions and being subjected to experiments; painful, torturous experiments that have left him mentally altered.
     Or was he actually more mentally aligned?
     As he watched the alien craft enter the atmosphere, he felt no apprehension, no anxiety, no panic - no fear of any kind. Ron was collected, calm. He felt at peace knowing he was in fact not completely insane. His unique knowledge of the aliens that might prove useful if he was to survive. They were on his turf now, and down to earth tactics might just prove elusive to the alien's dependence on their technology. Guerrilla warfare.
     Ron was at first impressed with the ease and precision with which the crafts descend through the atmosphere compared to the red hot re-entry of humanity's space craft. Obviously they had technology beyond comprehension, knowledge many moons past the infant species of humans.
     Ron took to the street. People were beginning to gather, pointing at the sky. While many were frightened, many we excited. Then there were the ones who looked as Ron felt; expressionless, calm, steady. He and the Others made eye contact and although they didn't recognize each other, they knew.
     Ron and the Others kept a partial eye on the crafts. They were more concerned with the people around them and what kind of resistance they could begin to form, before it was too late.
     As he strolled through the streets headed to the downtown area, he felt as though he was making more and more eye contact; more and more Others.
     They were gathering.
     Ron decided to stop and stare at the sky, resist his urge to head to the old Jefferson Building. He wondered if they were gathering because they were programmed by the aliens; a human transition party to help them conquer earth. He wanted no part of that mess.
     Then again, perhaps they were gathering due to the seeds of resistance formed in alien detention cell blocks, a plan buried deep in their subconscious.
     It made sense; the sheer magnitude, the emotional trauma of the crafts actually arriving pushed them over the edge. Now, it was secondary protocols all around - payback.




End Fiction.