Aura RisesA Story by EJ's Horror I wanted to write something a bit different to my usual methods in this one, and space myself away from the blood and gore I usually write about.
The Kids have gone to sleep, my friends have all fucked off.
Nothing left to do but sit in my shed and listen to my vinyl’s.
I had closed the sliding glass door in my shed, my shed was a sturdy structure made up of bricks, with a roof that was made of tin, I proudly built it myself, I added extra layers and made them overlap for support.
The last thing you'd want, is to be smoking a cone and have a possum land on your head.
My shed was my pride and joy, it was a 'Man-cave', it always sheltered me from grumpy women, clingy kids, noisy Dogs, annoying neighbours and greedy sales people.
The shed was tucked away towards the back corner of my property, and stood at least ten metres from my house. so, if someone were to ring the bell during the day, I don't have to suffer their company.
My mates, usually call in advance, if they plan on coming over. They knew not to bother with the doorbell, I'm either too drunk or too stoned to hear it. I instructed the kids if anyone was ignorant enough to press that button, just tell them to 'F**k off!'.
My daughter, Mandy, she takes everything literal, nearly got us raided the other week. Apparently, somebody's kid went missing and they buzzed at the door. The poor constable, he experienced very emotionally exhausting day, he literally knocked on every door, trying to find out if anyone had seen this Kid. Imagine after a hundred houses and a little three-foot tall Girl told you to 'F**K OFF' and she slammed the door on his foot.
Of course, my son Michael is a bit brighter, he knew I was very baked and the last thing any of us wanted was to spend Saturday arvo, being pressed up against the wall and having our stuff smashed by the Drug-Enforcement Agency. So, he just fibbed to the Officer, told him I was working. Like who the f**k works on a Sunday? Am I right? When Michael turns thirteen, I'm going to pump him and his mates with so much Rum they won't drink again for a few years.
I then shuffled through my collection of old records, let's see, there’s; 'It's Alright, Mama' by Elvis Presley, “The Wall” by Pink Floyd, I even have got the Soundtrack from “War of the Worlds”. I can't believe when it first broadcast on Radio, all of those crazy Americans thought the world was getting invaded. At least in my Country we use that thing between our ears. S**t! I left that soundtrack out in the rain last night, the artwork on the cardboard case looked like it had melted. Damn! They don't make them any-more. My clumsiness hasonce again robbed future generations of a historical artefact.
I knew that Aliens did not exist, and whoever did believe in them had to of been doing harder drugs than me. As far as I knew or cared, the World was made in Seven Days by Jesus. Adam and Eve created a population of people out of incest and there was something about a Snake doing something kinky with a Woman. I haven't picked up a Bible since I was nine. I'm not too good at reading anyway.
I had chosen “The Wall” usually, I'd let the Album play out, from start to finish, but I suffered a craving for “Comfortably Numb”. After I moved to stylus into position, I found my dirty bucket of water, it sat on a workbench, surrounded by various tools, empty coffee mugs and a couple of stick books (Porno). I reached into the shelf that had stood adjacent to my bench and reached in amongst a column of magazines, I'd collected over the last twenty years. I stuck my arm in deep until I felt an air-tight container. Bingo! After I grabbed it, I laid it on the bench and opened it. I’ve already prepared chopped up buds of weed and mixed it with the tobacco from my discarded cigarettes. I smoked the same brand for the last ten years.
I also reached around the bucket, and grabbed my cone-piece, it was a cone taken from a glass-bong I bought from an Adult-shop, they called it an “Oil-Pourer”. I already twisted the piece off and used my lighter to heat it up and I forced it into a coke bottle lid. I carefully placed the Cone-piece above my Weed container as I packed it. I always packed it like this, so if I dropped any bud, it would just fall in the container.
After, I packed my cone-piece, I then twisted and connected it with the bottomless bottle, I had let sink in the bucket of water, with all of the air out I sparked the end with my lighter and pulled it upwards to draw the smoke from the burning plant matter. I untwisted the lip off and inhaled the smoke as I had forced the bottle down, I sucked up as much smoke as my lungs would allow and dropped the bottle in the water, as it fell, the last of the smoke became expelled through the mouth piece.
I could here the music in the background, as I repeated this process over the course of hours, I felt out of my body, like I had become 'Comfortably Numb'. I’d been so enchanted by the feeling, I had even forgot that song would have ended hours ago. I bent under the bench and reached out for my beanbag, I thrown it into the centre of the shed and reclined there. I’d even found my sketch pad on the floor, but no pencil in sight. I would repeat this process every weekend. I would draw what I had thought of at the time.
My first drawing was Leif Eriksson with a battle-axe so large, that even his muscled frame did not look like it could support it the blade of the axe, let alone the whole weapon. Another picture was a sketch of Gene Simmons from the band “Kiss”. Though I was not a fan of their 'SS' or the font they once presented, it only filled my head up with my Father's old stories about Himmler and his barbaric hence-men. It was still fun attempting to draw him though.
I sat there and faced the back wall for hours, deep in thought. Then a knock was heard from behind me. It had to be one of the kids. “Go away! Busy!” I spoke.
That did not deter the Person who knocked, only made the irritating knocking noise louder. It was a struggle, but I managed to pull myself up from the bean-bag After I recovered my breath, I turned around to see the rude person who had disturbed my peace and quiet. I noticed the Vinyl player stopped, though I had no idea how long ago.
To my horror, I witnessed a horrid, disfigured little Man, outside the door. The Man appeared like a terrible Halloween costume, as he was donned in a long black, hooded robe. The Man's skin was a light-grey and his large, dark, black beady eyes, felt like they could pierce my soul with a glance. He carried something strange though. It was a pot of some sort, like one of those pots that my ex-missus used, to bring food over to her friends, back when we had a social life.
“Can I come in, please?” he asked.
I felt nervous, this Man resembled the Grimm Reaper, he also was not of this world. To my astonishment, something I never believed in before had stood right in front of me. I was struck with awe. I didn't know whether to be curious or terrified.
“Can I come in, please?” he spoke again.
His voice had sounded very strange; not only it was a few semitones higher than a Woman's, but it seemed to sound like he was gargling as he spoke, like there was a spa at the back of this throat.
I struggled to find a way to reply to this Alien. I did not prepare for this and I didn't know how to respond. I could not for the life of me put two words together in my head, let alone invite him in or tell him to 'F**k off!'. So many questions; Who is he? Why is he here? Why does he speak English? And what is in that tub, he's holding?
“Can I come in, please?” the Creature asked.
I had to do or say something, now! I remembered that this noise could wake my Children up, this Man, whom I do not know his character or his intentions. He could even be a Paedophile wanted on his own planet. That tub could contain some space narcotics that upon touching it, bares a Death penalty. It could be a bomb!
“F**k off!” I screamed at the Strange Man. I pointed to the gate that had lead out to the street.
The Creature stopped knocking for a minute and stared at me as he seemed to of taken time to process what I had just said.
“Can I come in, please?” asked the Alien.
My crude phrase of rejection clearly went over his head, from feelings of fear, I now felt anger and frustration towards this Man, it was annoying enough when guests don't get hints when you want them to leave, but when I've quiet clearly explained to him, that I wanted him to leave and he had just continued to knock. Honestly, for a Man trying to act polite, he was very rude and disrespectful.
“Can I come in, please?” asked the Alien.
My temper had been pushed beyond any patience, I felt like grabbing the large shifter from my bench and educating this Strange fellow on manners. Yeah, I could fix his manners a bit. I joked.
“Go get fucked!” I roared.
He clearly did not understand a word of it. “Piss off!”
Un-deterred by my negative responses he continued knocking on the door and repeated that irritating phrase, “Can I come in, please?”
To my amazement, the Man stopped with the knocks. I thought finally, he had taken a hint. Maybe he'll go and bother somebody else.
The creature had produced a small object from his black garment, was it a pen? Was it a gun? No, it was a pipe! It was a weed smoking pipe. This Creature was a stoner.
I saw him, light the cone shaped brass piece with his finger and held it towards his mouth.
I had realised, he can't smoke that there, Penny, the next-door neighbour will see that. Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if she’d been on her roof with a telescope pointed towards my shed door. Yes, this time at night. She often has very little to occupy herself with, since her Husband left her. She was like the self-appointed sheriff of our street. Also, an active member of the neighbourhood watch, she left me various notices over the last few years, one was that my music was too loud. She even called the Police when Michael and his Mate, Jamal accidentally broken her front window, when the Boys were playing a game of street cricket. Luckily, the Constable, I think the same one that met my kids the other week, realised she had a few screws loose. He only demanded I'd pay to have that window replaced. I agreed, though I never got around to it.
I quickly, grabbed the Smoking Alien and took him into the shed, he weighed less than my young Daughter, though he was the same height as Michael.
“Are you insane? If my neighbour saw that, not only would we be dealing with Cops, but my face will be all over the community notice-board on Facebook.” I said to the Alien.
“My deepest emotional sympathy” He spoke.
It took a few minutes for those words to create a meaning in my head. I've rarely been involved in conversation where words exceeded three syllables.
“Who are you?” I asked. “What? Are you?”
Though, I wanted him to leave, I also felt I had a growing interest in him. The Creature was most odd. Half an hour ago, I would have a hard time believing in any extra-terrestrial life, let alone one that smokes weed.
The Man had finished the pipe off, before he turned and faced me. He gave that blank, emotionless stare I have ever seen when he knocked on my Shed door.
“My name is Aura Rises” he said. “I come from the Planet of 'Destiny Cries Blood.”
I gave a horrid look of confusion, I first had thought this Guy was having a laugh, but he looked serious when he spoke. At least as far as I could tell. Aura Rises’ face was blank of any expression.
I had sniggered though on the thought of this Man's weird name, also his Planet's bizarre name. They had seemed like names that would fit an Emo band, not a person and a Planet.
“What is your name friend?” he asked.
As I debated in my head whether or not to give this Creature my real name. I noticed he'd placed the dish he had carried on my bench and started pick at the floor, like he was a Chicken. He used his hand to pick up all of my tossed Cigarette butts and one by one proceeded to eat them like they were peanuts.
“You're f*****g weird! You're not supposed to eat them, you know?” I snapped.
The Alien gave me another blank look and said, “That's quite a long name, I'll just call and refer to you as 'You're F*****g Weird', is that okay?”
Aura Rises then paced around the shed, I could do nothing but gaze in shock at this strange being, he had no emotion, no concept of social norms and seriously believed a sentence was my name. But my curiosity grew, yet again. Why was he here? What brought the oddest Creature into my Man-Cave? If he was going to kill me, he'd have probably done away with me from the safety of his Ship. If he was going to probe me, he'd most likely do it in my sleep.
“I suppose by now you are wondering why I have asked you to let me in?” said Aura Rises.
“Yeah, why are you here?”
Aura Rises had said nothing, the conversation had grown awkward, and I started to tire of his company, I let out a yarn in an attempt to hint at my drowsiness. I honestly was drowsy. I stared deep into his cold, emotionless, and unblinking eyes, at last I thought he’d finally found a way to explain to me why he was here.
“You're f*****g Weird, I have travelled far and wide from my home Planet, our culture and yours share a common desire for that herb you consume, and we'd mastered a new strand. I have placed the result in this tin, as our spy drones have noted you consume large amounts,” he spoke.
“It took you that long to tell me that?” I asked.
Though I felt some sense of excitement, I became increasingly irritated that this Creature had wasted some of my night.
“Negative!” Aura Rises replied. “I needed to think of a way to explain it to you, in a way you can comprehend.”
Though, I have a distaste for snobby people, let alone Aliens condescending me and belittling my intelligence. I had been eager to get my hands on this new strand of Weed.
“You could have just said 'Do you want some Weed, Buddy?' It only has a single definition.”
“You're f*****g Weird, I must warn you, this Strand has not been tested on your species, nor has it been tested on mine. The effects and the duration of your intoxication can vary. You may experience a pleasant sensation, or you may experience a fickle one. You may feel any symptoms that are not limited to; hallucinations, insanity, feeling of eternal happiness, vomiting, increased intelligence, death or a magnetic appeal to members of the opposite gender. Whether or not you choose to test it out remains up to you,” spoke Aura Rises.
His tone was so casual, he may of well have told me what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. I felt more pressing questions though, should I smoke this untested Weed. It had the power to either improve my life for the better in every aspect or possibly kill me.
“I will not waste any-more time,” he spoke.
Finally, something we both agreed on, though I am grateful I had received a gift, that most stoners could only fantasise about. This Alien did not get off on the right foot with me, he did invade my privacy, ate my cigarette butts and kind of freaked me out a bit.
I saw him turn around and open up that sliding glass door, he had left, I followed him out into the yard, “Wait! Where's the herb?” I asked.
“In the container, You're f*****g Weird, if you don't desire it, dispose of it!”
The next instant I seen a flash and the otherworldly visitor vanish. After I recovered from the shock of what I had seen, I then ran into the shed. I began to jitter like a School-Girl, as I removed the lid. The tin was packed to the top with the finest smelling bud, it was already pre-chopped and when I ran my hands into the tin, I then felt a soothing sensation rub around my fingers. I pulled one hand out to smell it. Ah, if heaven was a narcotic, this would be it.
But Aura Rising's words had haunted me. 'Death' .
Also, he's words tempted me 'Magnetic appeal to the opposite gender'.
I wondered, what would you do if you were presented with this?.
Would you smoke it, knowing it could kill you?
Would you smoke it if it had the chance to improve your life for the better?
© 2018 EJ's HorrorAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
StatsAuthor
EJ's HorrorRural, Queensland, AustraliaAboutMonsters surround us everyday, we just don't see them until it's too late. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
