A short story of reality
Blurry scenes of circular capsules floating above highways and hovering over cities never impressed me. I am often invited to adventures into the deserts near Roswell, New Mexico. There is an appeal to working at a diner in the middle of a small town. A strange attractive newcomer wonders in. Eyes meet and the interspecies relationships dance begins.
I don’t go with my friends. The dream works on the big screen, but not in real life. Movies are movies. TV shows don’t happen. I don’t like to waste my time chasing the impossible.
“Come on. It will be fun!” my friend echoed over a weekend Discord call, “You can even bring your Kindle with you. Download the books you need to get read and just chill with us.”
It is tempting to read in the desert. Open up some serial killer or vampire mystery while avoiding a certain death by scorpions and vipers.
“Okay.” I am met by silence on the call. I always forget that I rarely say yes, so when I do, there is a long pause or a gasp.
“I will link you the details! Love ya!” The call disconnected, and I felt a heavy weight. A sudden sense of dread about what was about to happen.
I actually want to do this — this time.
The weekend arrived quickly, to my dismay. I feel unprepared, but that’s not new. I am constantly worrying about everything.
Life is anxiety.
It didn’t take long to arrive on site, set up the tents, and I got comfortable atop of a boulder in the middle of the camp. The air is different here. Not heavy like in the city. It’s not cleaner, just enticing. One gust of sweet lavender sand brushes my cheek. The wilderness may infect me with a desire for adventure.
Earbuds in, Kindle out, it’s time to forget the world for the night. The music creates an aggressive ambiance as I read my vampire novel. I doubt any vampires are lurking about — sadly.
Hours pass and my friends drift off to sleep. I stay in the chilly stillness. The stone beneath me warms by my body heat. Inhaling deeply, I jump off the edge. Of course, I am not high off the ground, but I slip nonetheless.
Flat on my ass while the rock scrapes my back on the way down. A tear falls from my eye, but doesn’t hit the ground.
A bit of sadness floating upward. My tear is gravity disappearing after a bad dinner date. It runs out the bathroom window, and just like that my tear ghosted me!
Above me is a round metallic object inside a yellowish glow. A sigh escapes my lips, not of fear, but of disappointment. I tuck my reading material under my arm as I scramble to my feet.
I set it atop the boulder, turn off the music and step inside the halo. A cylindrical beam of light ready for business. No, I am not sucked upward like in a cliche’ abduction short film. No probes today — at least for me.
Walking toward the tents, I do feel a slight sense of guilt. I do like these people a little. It’s been six months of late night calls. Gaming until the early hours of the morning. Listening to gossip, making out on couches and eating popcorn from suspicious looking buckets.
It doesn’t matter. This is my job and I don’t plan to get fired over human attachment. Humans spend so much time divided, so this is my contribution to forcing them to become one. One giant Cronenberg substance that multiply until its inevitable doom. The substance of all life on earth.
No one is alone in this universe. Vast layers of space and time colliding to create endless adventures.
If this were a film, right now you would see my entire body morphing into what I am. Needle like sweeps of metallic matter revealing my true essence. You recognize my form, a blend of Slenderman and Mystique. A faceless, pale blue humanoid. The camera zooms in for a closeup. The indentations along my nose are pig-like. I grin, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. Saliva drips from the side of my mouth, a brown sticky slug like matter. I wipe the goo with the back of my arm.
“Can you see me? Do I have your attention? — Good. Are you scared of me? Check out your front door, check the back seat of your car, don’t walk alone in the daylight or the dark. Oh honey, you think I’m the monster…hate to disappoint, but there are worse things than me.”
(fade to black)
Prompt by Dr. Casey Lawrence from Promptly Written “What if Area 51 was real?”
Tas The Artist 
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