Those Play Things

A Story by Akroma

I want to begin by making it clear I know this will be an utterly useless document. For years no one has believed me, and if the past is any indication, this will only solidify my status as a crackpot. But for my own sanity’s sake, I need to at least get it all out, from beginning to end, without being interrupted, mocked, or dismissed somewhere in the middle.

So, here it is.

My name is Patrick Varus, and on the 5th of September 96, I was involved in an alien abduction.

It starts with glaring lights and wavy white and yellow lines, as I weaved in and out of my lane. Was it acceptable, appropriate, or admirable for me to be driving under the conditions, four drinks deep and reeking of bourbon? Maybe not, but I was 20 minutes out in a boondocks town, and the only option was to continue.

I came to a glowing stop sign, the clock read 8:02, I recall that very clearly, and that’s when it happened.

I am faced with the task of describing the process of being suctioned into the sky. It happened fast, I can tell you that. All the sudden immense pressure propelled everything upwards with speed, smashing and cramping my head into the roof of the car.

I may have screamed, or I may have not; in my dreams I never scream, chocked with fear. Out the windows I see thick, swirling smoke, rapidly wrapping around the vehicle as we lift off the ground. A few thoughts crossed my head, the most persistent being that I should undo my seatbelt, open the door, and jump out.

But I did not do that. Instead I stayed pinned to my seat, floating in the air, as the smoke spiraled around the windows with increasing speed and opacity.

Next, a blinding flash. My eyes squinted shut as everything turned bright red. I grabbed onto the headrest as a rumbling vibration shook the car and its contents.

That is all that I can recall until the next part...and if I haven’t lost you already, I am sure I am about to.

When I came to I was lying in a strange, tiny, circular room, half my body submerged in a slimy,viscous substance. A sharp pain pounded behind my eyes, each pulse blurring my already shaky vision, and it took a while for things to come into focus.

The walls emitted a pale yellow, subdued but enough to take in the surroundings. The sticky substance covering me also claimed the entire floor, perhaps two or three inches deep. The walls struck me instantly as unreal and therefore horrifying. They looked like a diagram of a human body in an Anatomy book, translucent with a busy cascade of red and blue lines, and floating particles, inside. Oh, and there was no door, window, or any conceivable way to escape. Naturally, I panicked. I tried to stand, but immediately fumbled and landed back on the floor. I cursed but nothing could be heard. My hands wiped off the substance on my clothes, succeeding only in spreading it. Backed into an emotional corner I attempted again, and failed once more, to interrupt the dead, eerie silence.

With vulgar desperation, I crawled toward the wall on elbows and knees, recklessly splashing liquid in my mouth. It tasted like tar and ash and everything that has ever lived and died. I tentatively touched the wall. It felt warm, soft, and jelly like, but while it could be pressed and moved ever so slightly, it quickly bounced back. Still, it seemed like my only hope, so I threw my body weight against it repeatedly. The wall trembled, wavered, but could not be penetrated.

At this point I was frustrated, bewildered, and, lets not forget, intoxicated. Even through the thick haze of bourbon, the half of my body I used as a battering ram ached, and I stumbled and fell back onto the floor.

While returning to my feet I heard it. The hiss of vapors filling the air. I only got a second, a flash, of the sight of thick pink smoke pouring like a waterfall into the room.

Now, the next part is a bit surreal, and I would appreciate it if you could just set aside your judgments and listen with an open mind.

When I wake up again, I am prepared for a fight, swinging my arms wildly. Bright white blinded me, and it took excruciating seconds before I could focus on anything.

I found myself swallowed up by another room, this one infinitely larger, bright, with stunning, spherical architecture. I pulled my head off of the slab of glistening white tile, pausing for a moment to appreciate the flecks of gleaming jewels inserted into the floor. The ceiling I almost couldn’t face. It was too high up, too breath-taking and impossible and the definition of beauty. Swirling with purple, blue, grey, white galaxies, all circling around a lavish dangling diamond chandelier.

An odd, throaty cry interrupted the trance.

The creature that stood before me must have been no less than 7 feet and had the proportions, and the coordination, of a human toddler. It screeched, then surged forward, coming at me. I tried to move but found I could not. Utterly stuck, completely frozen, I laid there as it got down on it’s knees and crawled at an alarming speed.

“Durlam iksha!” The creature braked instantly at the sound, and for several minutes, we stayed still, with nothing to do but stare at one another.

The creature bore two sets of eyes, both humongous and deep, soulless black, with pinches of green in the corners. They blinked, suddenly docile. It’s mouth stretched wide and moist, with bits of saliva rolling down it’s petite chin. A pale blue light emitted from its smooth, almost wet looking flesh. Its nostrils contracted and relaxed with a rapid and erratic breath pattern.

“Vah Meyah Kanahs!” The voice sounded closer. My spine stiffened, still a useless clump in the middle of the floor. Horrified? Sure, of course, naturally. But I can’t deny my human adrenaline rush high I received just then, lying helplessly as what appeared to be a child monster/alien towered over me. Bathed in it’s intimidating shadow, I said a silent prayer and inwardly cursed my lack of life insurance. What a pain I would be leaving behind.

Just as I was trying to recall if I ever actually finalized things on my will, and if so, did I do something foolish like leave all my assets to a now shunned ex-wife, the next creature came into view, this one nearly triple the height and double the width.

“Mayo Benahta,” It said, gently, as it’s windy, glowing blue arm reached down. The two embraced in a moment of sweetness that temporarily offset the terror of the situation, as well as offered a gleaming ray of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they would forget all about me!

This did not happen. As soon as their tender time expired, the two creatures turned and stared down at me with a look that can only be interpreted as amusement.

“Veryo Mya Dem Shakalawn,” The large creature said to the smaller (still giant) one. Its skin stretched into a smile, revealing three rows of flat, white teeth. “Vyo Malee Demoh.”

Without warning the smaller alien lept forward, on hands and knees, and landed just inches away from my vulnerable, paralyzed legs. Its mouth hung wide open, toothless with slick black gums, dripping with drool. The taller alien watched from afar, seeming pleased.

I attempted to imagine death as a beautiful time of peace, of utter silence and stillness and the complete absence of any pain. I tried to construct the words, “I welcome it!” Indeed I would love to say in the face of death I became completely accepting, monk-like in my tranquility and wisdom. This however, would be a farce. Truthfully, I wet myself and screamed internally that this was the most bullshit, f*****g stupid, ridiculous....

These thoughts, accepting or otherwise, were cut short when this young creature decided to lift me off the ground by my dampened pant leg. The world turned upside down before I even realized what was happening. It pummeled the air with a series of unique noises, ranging from little grunts to frantic shrieks, but the message of sheer joy was clear enough. My body rocked and waved, back and forth, as It flailed It’s chubby arms in delight.

I do believe it’s safe to assume this is when I passed out. When I came to, I was back on the floor, and as easy as you never appreciate it is, I moved. The relief soon tainted with the realization that I was dressed in different clothes. In fact, could these even be called clothes? That may be a generous term considering their lackluster design... seemed to be a series of grey sacks, sewed together with giant, clumsy stitches, while my feet found themselves trapped in a pair of hefty, brown blocks.

Only one thing rang in my head. I must escape.

Looking around, at the criss cross of bars in every direction, with spaces just small enough to not fit, I experienced a sinking feeling of despair. I backed up, and tripped over a water dish, my head buried in wood chips and fluff.

I pulled my head out, blinked, and saw shaking hands on a steering wall, and a clock that read 8:03.

Stunned, I sat is silence in my pontiac for who knows how long, until a series of honks behind me pierced through, and I pushed the gas with a trembling foot.

Now I know what you’re thinking. A dream perhaps? A brain injury, even. Maybe, but I present to you the following; my skin, not my clothes, no, but my hands and ankles and neck and parts of my face were coated in a peeling, black substance that took days of heavy scrubbing to remove.

So that’s it, that’s my tale, my pointless indulgence. Though belief would be nice, even better would be answers. An explanation, perhaps, of what this was, what it means, if I am safe or if I should forever be weary.

As it is, from that moment at 8:03, to now, five years later, I have been stone cold sober no matter how much gut rot I gargle.