prompt_id,prompt,story_id,story_title,story_author,story_url,link,genre,is_sensitive,categories,likes,story_text,posted_date,comments
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,cciphp,No More Elephants in the Zoo,Michał Przywara,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/cciphp/,/short-story/cciphp/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Drama']",53 likes,"
Anita Cable never seriously expected to come back from the dead. The forms Dr. Costa had her sign even said: they’d do their best, but the technology to reverse cryonic suspension just didn’t exist yet. And even then, there was still the glioblastoma.
To her, it was all the same – bury, burn, freeze. A corpse was just a corpse, after she moved out. But it was little Molly that insisted, and how could Anita deny her anything?
“I’ll wait for you, Mom,” Molly said, right before the cryo-capsule closed. As though Anita was just going for a trip. As though she’d actually ever return. The last thing she remembered was pressing her hand against the honeycombed ferro-glass, gasping as a blizzard tore through her veins.
“Molly,” she whispered. Blinked. Realized she could see. Before her, floor-to-ceiling windows, the bleary lights and shadows of the city, a daytime rainstorm. Beneath her, a comfortable – was it? Yes, it was comfortable – leather recliner, then fluffy slippers, a fine orange carpet. Around her, some kind of upscale lobby? Low couches, glass tables, tall ceiling. And a strange man.
“Hello, Anita.” White, at the far end of middle-aged, in a nice, if strange, indigo suit. He held a clipboard but his expression was kind.
“Molly?” Where was she? Where was here? Anita placed her palm on her own cheeks, curious to find she was warm.
“How are you feeling, Anita? The reanimation process can be a bit of a shock to the system.”
“I’m… fine.” No headache, no blurry vision, no trembling. She was surprised to realize it was true. “I’m fine.”
The man jotted something down. “Good, good. Glad to hear it. My name’s Dennis, by the way.”
Her fingers trembled, reaching towards his outstretched hand, but when their skins touched – when she felt the impossible warmth of another living human again – she grasped him tightly, for fear of him disappearing. A nervous hitch, half giggle, half cry, escaped her.
“It’s all right,” Dennis said, tone softer. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. You don’t feel any lingering numbness? There’s a gentle sedative still in your system. It’ll be hours before it wears off entirely.”
“No. No, it’s like… Actually, I’ve never felt better.” She ran her fingers over her temples, over her jaw. Gently touched the tender bald area where they’d sawed off a part of her skull in the myriad failed surgeries – and shivered when she felt hair. Short, supple, but definitely hair.
“Is the cancer gone?”
Dennis straightened and smiled more broadly. “It feels good to be alive, doesn’t it?” Only, the smile hinted at a sadness, or maybe a dread of things to come. “We must assume the cancer’s gone, yes.”
“Assume? Aren’t you a doctor?”
“No, I’m not.” His breath was measured. “I’m a fellow patient.”
“So they figured it out after all.” She snorted, what might have been a chuckle. Shouldn’t she be happy? Perhaps it was the sedative. Or shock, at coming back to life.
Anita decided to risk standing. She braced herself against the armrests of the recliner and carefully rose – only to discover she had no trouble whatsoever. “They really figured it out.” No weak muscles, no shaky legs, no dizziness. She spun her arms, touched her toes, lunged, jumped. Her heart fluttered and she felt warm.
“So,” she said. “Where is the doctor then?”
Dennis glanced out the window, at rain splattering with a low drum. “A lot has changed, Anita.”
“A lot has…” She let the question trail, narrowed her eyes. “How long was I out for?”
“Come on, let’s go chat in the cafeteria.” He ushered her out of the lobbyish room, which didn’t remind her of the cryonics institute at all. “You mentioned a name when you were coming to. Molly. Is she someone special?”
The warmth in her chest spread to Anita’s cheeks, and she felt herself reaching for a smile. When was the last time she truly smiled? It must have been Molly’s seventh. All her friends did the princess thing, but Molly wanted elephants.
“Real elephants, Mom! Not cartoons.”
They plastered all the walls with elephant posters, and went to the zoo – which was happy, to see them, and sad, to see them imprisoned, and Molly vowed to free all elephants – “No more elephants in the zoo!” – and then when the cake arrived – goodness! Grey was not a good colour for food, but Molly loved it.
Anita hugged herself, imagining holding Molly again. “She’s my daughter. She’s the reason I’m here.” That smile pushed against the sedative. “She was right. And I’m going to get to see her again.”
She stopped abruptly at the cafeteria entrance, glossed right over the size and decorations. Nearly jumped when she saw glowing blue words appear suspended in the air.
13:13. Currently: Free roam. Next at 15:00: Communal welcoming in Hall 17.
“What the hell is that!?”
“It’s a holoserver,” said Dennis. “Only I disabled the ads and retooled it to show our… well, no need for ads, I’m sure you’ll agree. Why – did you not have these, back when?”
“Words floating in the air?” She stepped a little closer to the mystery, fingers creeping. “Can I touch it?”
“Yes, yes, perfectly safe.”
The letters distorted where her finger prodded, but that was it. No cold, no heat, nothing fuzzy. No sensation at all. She withdrew her hand, frowned.
“We didn’t have these, no. Our ads were in print. On TV. On the internet, I guess.”
“Teavey?”
“Television. A box with sound and pictures. And idiots.” Anita shivered. All the warmth she had felt before faded, replaced by a cold deep in her gut. “Dennis – how long have I been frozen?” He looked at the floor. “What year is it?”
Dennis hesitated.
She grabbed his coat and pulled him close. “Tell me!”
“Anita, please, calm down–”
“–What. Year. Is. It.”
“We don’t know.” He guided her to one of the empty tables when she let go of him. “Please, sit.” A polished vending machine produced two steaming cups of something like tea, and he set them on the table.
“How can you not know what year it is?”
“A lot has happened while we were in stasis.” He took a sip and frowned into the distance, walking down a road that never got easier. “I went under in 2101.”
Anita’s eyes widened.
“You were what,” he continued, “early 2000s? The youngest patient – chronologically, not biologically – was suspended in 2248.”
He took another sip. “You might be wondering why you don’t find this more shocking. When the sedative wears off, you will, and we’ll be here for you when you do.”
“And we are the other patients?”
Dennis nodded. “To the best of our knowledge, the year is somewhere in the mid to late 3000s. You’re wondering why we don’t just ask someone, right? Like the doctors or other staff?”
Anita nodded.
Dennis drew himself up, preparing for a particularly challenging sprint. “In short, we can’t. Something… some thing, happened. To the world. To humans. While we slept. We don’t know if it was war, or disease, or what, but.” His throat hitched and he took another sip. “Everyone’s gone. We’re the only ones that are left.”
They sat in silence for a while. Anita felt her heart run maybe a beat or two faster, followed by a dull disappointment that there wasn’t a panic. Rationally, it crossed her mind she’d not see Molly again after all. Never see her again. Shouldn’t that be crushing? It ought to be, damn it.
“Wait,” she said. “If everyone’s dead, who brought us back?”
Dennis nodded, expecting this.
“We’re not alone.”
None of it really sunk in until that evening. She heard the words, they lingered in her now-healthy brain, but they didn’t register until the lights went out. Meeting the others – hundreds of patients, a small town – at the communal welcome in Hall 17 was a blur, a parade of time traveling strangers. And the talk of the aliens that roused them? Incomprehensible.
She started screaming at midnight. As Dennis said, the others were there for her, whether she wanted them or not. They made a human straight jacket, smothered her with shared experience, a common circumstance. Kept her from doing the regrettable thing she yearned to do.
Because what was the point of living in a world where Earth no longer belonged to Man? What was the point of a life without Molly?
“Can I see them?” she asked Dennis a couple weeks later. More than anything else, the idea of aliens felt unreal.
“In time, yes. They are uncomfortable to get used to, and there are biological precautions we must take.”
“They talk to you?”
“In a sense. They have an amazing grasp of our technology, and they’ve been able to communicate via our computers. I don’t know if they actually talk, per se. And… they are hard to understand. There’s little common ground between us. Culturally speaking, that kind of thing. I get the sense they’ve gone to great lengths to understand us.”
“Why are they here?”
“Far as I can tell, just for living. From their point of view, they’ve settled an unoccupied world.”
“And why,” Anita asked, “did they wake us?”
It was another one of those questions where Dennis hesitated. “To see if they could. To preserve the native fauna of their new home. Our de-extinction is of scientific interest to them.”
She was allowed to walk around the tower – for the whole facility was its own skyscraper – freely, but never alone. Never out of sight. No matter how many times she told them she was fine over the first few months, that she’d adjusted and wouldn’t do anything, there’d still always be one or two humans in eyeshot.
They saw through her lies.
It came as a shock to her the first time she saw children. Three of them, about the same age as Molly had been. Shrieking, barreling down the hall, absorbed in a running game. Then came a profound sadness that such tiny, young people had been afflicted with this fate. Cursed with an incurable condition, frozen, and thrust into a future that didn’t make sense, a future without a future.
“But they’re not patients,” said Renee, one of her constant companions. In better circumstances Anita would have called her a friend. In a different world, in a different time. If they hadn’t been born two centuries apart.
Renee smiled. “Those kids are real. More real than you and me. They were born here-and-now.”
Ambivalence. Vague dread. Anita’s other constant companions. “So the aliens are breeding us.”
Renee, too, hesitated. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. I won’t lie, procreation is encouraged. And yeah, it did make my skin crawl. Still does. But those little rascals? They don’t care. This isn’t weird for them and they didn’t come here with baggage. Didn’t lose anything in the past. They’re just kids, having the times of their lives.”
She was allowed to walk around the tower, but not outside. Never seemed to stop raining there. Dennis said it wasn’t exactly rain, that there were things in the air that were no longer friendly to humans. Things that evolved without us, passed us by. No walking outside the tower without an environmentally sealed suit, anyway.
“Can I have one?”
“In time,” Dennis said. Because he knew. “We all went through it. It’s hard adjusting to this new world of ours.”
“I’m fine.” Of course, she didn’t really need the suit for what she was planning.
She took to watching the rain from the ground floor. Casually, she placed her hands on the windows one day. Nothing odd about that. Then another day, casually she placed her hands on the door. Still very normal, just a woman lost in thought. Then the next day, she did the same and pushed just a bit. Just until the door gave a little.
Not locked.
Anita smiled, and began preparing for the end. She picked a day the next week. A day everyone decided was Monday. Nobody knew if their new calendar lined up with pre-extinction, but there was something comforting about having regular Mondays. She was pleasant to everyone, played with the kids, embraced the community. And let go. It wasn’t a terrible place, but it just wasn’t for her. Her time had come and gone.
She never saw the aliens, which was a regret. The idea both enthralled and repulsed her, and still seemed unreal. Ah, but life was all about accepting the nevers and moving on.
Finally her day came. Good luck, with Renee being her chaperone. “I could sure go for a coffee,” Anita said, her hands on the door. “Would you mind?”
“Could go for one myself.” Renee left to fetch them, because she trusted Anita. That was an unexpected barb in the heart. But no matter, this had to be done.
And as luck often does, good turned to bad when Dennis came down the stairwell. “Anita! Guess what?”
She closed her eyes and swore under her breath. “What?”
“I found a TV!” Anita glared at him. “Well, I think I did, anyway. There’s a good chance it’s not an original. You know, they constantly tinker with our tech, taking it apart and reproducing it. I think they maintained this building for us, and all the food and whatnot. Doesn’t seem like it would survive thousands of years without help otherwise. Our caretakers.”
She sighed. This Monday was looking to be a real Monday.
Dennis placed something in her hand. A small, flat bit of plastic, looking like a narrow thumb drive.
“What’s this?” she asked. There was a strip of masking tape on it, and in faded pen, “33875 ANITA CABLE”.
“A Q12 drive, I believe. Maybe a Q14? A mid twenty-first century storage medium, anyway.” He grinned. “Often, people recorded messages for their loved ones. For when they woke up. Most of them are holos, but for this older tech, well, it took me a while to track down a way to play it back.”
“Messages?” Her eyes widened. “Wait, you mean – this is for me?” Cold arced along her nerves.
“Would you like to watch it?”
They sat down in one of the myriad empty rooms in the tower, where Dennis had set up a giant, flat monitor. He slipped the drive in the bottom and dimmed the lights. Renee meanwhile joined up with them, bringing the promised coffee.
“Would you like us to go?” Dennis asked.
Anita looked between the two, found her throat dry. “Stay. Please.” The butterflies in her gut roiled.
Dennis hit play.
A mahogany office appeared, bookshelves for walls, a heavy desk, a woman sitting behind it. Her hair, a tight white bun, and her eyes, yellowed, and her skin, scarred by time.
“Hello, Anita.” There was gravel in her voice. “You probably don’t recognize my face, but we used to live together. It’s me, Molly. Hello, Mom.”
Anita clamped her hand over her mouth, but she’d lost all her words anyway.
“Only I’m not Molly Cable any more. It’s Carson now, and it was Gaines for a while too. A lot has happened.”
Anita’s eyes bleared.
“I wish I could tell you in person, but, ah, well. Life doesn’t work that way. I never stopped thinking about you though, and I never stopped hoping. And now, well, I still hope they bring you back one day, and we can catch up. Like this, at least.”
Anita nodded along, and when Renee offered her a handkerchief, she took it.
“I don’t know where to start, to be honest. Feels like I have eighty odd years to cover.” Molly chuckled. “Hope you don’t mind, but I recorded a lot of footage. The cryo people were very accommodating. Frankly, it’s helping me remember my own life, which is nice, as the old memory isn’t what it used to be.” She sighed. “I never did save all the elephants, but I did work with them for five-odd decades. Well, time enough for that later. Hey, I’m not alone here – do you want to meet your grandkids?”
Anita nodded, and dabbed away another tear.
“I’ve a feeling you said yes. Good, good. Well, I hope you have some time, Ma, ’cause the family’s grown quite big.”
“All the time in the world, baby,” Anita said. And all thoughts of Mondays left her mind, as she met those who came after her, and those who went before.
","August 10, 2023 22:31","[[{'Kevin B': ""I don't know if the dialogue has something to do with it, Michal, but this one feels shorter than your others. It's got this kind of bounce to it that makes it a great read, really moves along and kind of careens you into the ending."", 'time': '16:42 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""That's an interesting observation! Fact is, it was quite long in the initial draft and had a fair number of cuts, so only the more impactful stuff/dialogue remained. Maybe that contributed to the pace. But given it spanned a bit of time, there was a conscious decision to keep things rolling too. \n\nThanks for the feedback, Kevin :)"", 'time': '20:51 Aug 22, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""That's an interesting observation! Fact is, it was quite long in the initial draft and had a fair number of cuts, so only the more impactful stuff/dialogue remained. Maybe that contributed to the pace. But given it spanned a bit of time, there was a conscious decision to keep things rolling too. \n\nThanks for the feedback, Kevin :)"", 'time': '20:51 Aug 22, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Amanda Lieser': 'Hi Michal,\nCongratulations on the shortlist! This was an exceptional piece that wove sci fi with reality beautifully. I’m so happy it had a happy ending with love and hope for the future. It gave me the sense that these characters would all learn to live with one another. You wove that “wake up” scene beautifully and it was an interesting concept to play with. Of course, all magic comes with a price. Nice work!', 'time': '14:41 Sep 08, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Amanda! I\'m glad this one had a happy ending too, as it was quite dour for a long time. \n\n""It gave me the sense that these characters would all learn to live with one another."" - That\'s exactly what I was hoping for. I often wonder what life would be like, in a situation like that, where the survival of the entire species is in serious danger. Do we put aside differences and find a way forward together? Do we give in despair? Fun to think about.', 'time': '20:36 Sep 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Amanda! I\'m glad this one had a happy ending too, as it was quite dour for a long time. \n\n""It gave me the sense that these characters would all learn to live with one another."" - That\'s exactly what I was hoping for. I often wonder what life would be like, in a situation like that, where the survival of the entire species is in serious danger. Do we put aside differences and find a way forward together? Do we give in despair? Fun to think about.', 'time': '20:36 Sep 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Susan Catucci': ""A beautiful piece, Michal - I would say flawless.  It reminded me at times of Interstellar.  Your ability to move the reader, effortlessly and convincingly from event to event, through an enormous expanse of time we get to experience as Anita does, it's as complete and bittersweet as anything I've ever enjoyed reading.\n\nYour reference to elephants is exceptionally poignant - an elephant confined to a caged environment is just where Anita wound up; a zoo for aliens.  Yikes - you know how to pack a punch in your writing, Michal.   You can't se..."", 'time': '11:24 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Susan! That's humbling to hear. \n\nI'm glad the scale of time particularly worked out. With shorter stories there's a (very reasonable) tendency to stick to one event, or short timeline, but I wanted to see if that could be expanded. Many events, lots of time, but a common through line. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '21:31 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Susan! That's humbling to hear. \n\nI'm glad the scale of time particularly worked out. With shorter stories there's a (very reasonable) tendency to stick to one event, or short timeline, but I wanted to see if that could be expanded. Many events, lots of time, but a common through line. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '21:31 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Riel Rosehill': ""Damnit I was not expecting you to make me cry, I was expecting a funny story here! But this was beautiful. Might even be my favourite sci-fi to date-I'm pretty sure it is. Excellent title too, and such a heartbreaking story. Loved it, that shortlist was so, so well-deserved!"", 'time': '10:01 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks so much, Riel! \n\nYeah, it was a sadder piece this time around. I think there's definitely ways to make cryonics funny too, but it didn't fit for this one. Got to switch it up every now and then :) \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '21:30 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks so much, Riel! \n\nYeah, it was a sadder piece this time around. I think there's definitely ways to make cryonics funny too, but it didn't fit for this one. Got to switch it up every now and then :) \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '21:30 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Leland Mesford': 'Great concept. De-extinction and pre-extinction great.', 'time': '01:17 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Leland! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '18:11 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Leland! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '18:11 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Philip Ebuluofor': 'Congrats. Good ending. Smooth one. My system felt it.', 'time': '19:25 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Philip! Glad to hear it :)', 'time': '01:52 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Philip! Glad to hear it :)', 'time': '01:52 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Judith Jerde': 'Great story, Gave me a strange feeling when they close the cryo- door. It’s like dieing but not. I’ve always felt like I’d want to hang onto every breath rather than assign an actual shelve-life experation date on myself. I loved all the nuances in your story. Makes me want to be a better writer myself.', 'time': '16:59 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thank you, Judith! That's lovely to hear :) Doing these weekly stories is one of my efforts to be a better writer. There's a *lot* that can be learned from the other writers here.\n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '22:34 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thank you, Judith! That's lovely to hear :) Doing these weekly stories is one of my efforts to be a better writer. There's a *lot* that can be learned from the other writers here.\n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '22:34 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Russell Mickler': ""Hi Michal!\n\nA compelling story in the distant future, Anita struggles to cope with her new reality after cryonic suspension. \n\nLuckily for everyone in the galaxy, humans are extinct, and Anita's a well-kept, catalogued animal in a zoo :)\n\nI mean, I can think of worse fates, but humanity's extinction is probably for the best.  But Anita's suffering in the future will probably only be compounded by her inevitable loneliness. :( Michal, you wrote a very sad story here ...! :)\n\nR"", 'time': '22:24 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks Russell! And yeah, I think you're right - lots of room for sad here. I suspect the other survivors dealt with it too, and their current smothering approach to post-reanimation probably results from those who gave up. Sometimes you have to fight for hope. \n\nThanks for the feedback!"", 'time': '20:36 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks Russell! And yeah, I think you're right - lots of room for sad here. I suspect the other survivors dealt with it too, and their current smothering approach to post-reanimation probably results from those who gave up. Sometimes you have to fight for hope. \n\nThanks for the feedback!"", 'time': '20:36 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Nina Herbst': 'What a wonderful ending. Clever, imaginative, well-told story. I liked how Anita felt the elephants were an important part of Molly’s childhood, then circled back to that in her life’s work later.', 'time': '17:33 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Nina! Yes, I suppose from Anita's POV, that seventh birthday was a fairly recent memory, even though hundreds (thousands?) of years had passed since, and Molly had lived a full life in the interim. I'm glad you enjoyed the story!"", 'time': '01:10 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Nina! Yes, I suppose from Anita's POV, that seventh birthday was a fairly recent memory, even though hundreds (thousands?) of years had passed since, and Molly had lived a full life in the interim. I'm glad you enjoyed the story!"", 'time': '01:10 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Karen Corr': 'Loved this story. I enjoy your work.', 'time': '04:02 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Karen! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '20:40 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Karen! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '20:40 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Chris Miller': 'Very interesting, Michal. Lots of potential for expansion. So many interesting things hinted at. There would be some odd conflict/incompatibility between the people frozen at different times.\n\nThanks for sharing.', 'time': '19:41 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Chris! \n\nYes, lots of room for expansion, I agree. I think the coming together of people from different times and places could lead to all manner of interesting conflict. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!', 'time': '20:38 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Chris! \n\nYes, lots of room for expansion, I agree. I think the coming together of people from different times and places could lead to all manner of interesting conflict. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!', 'time': '20:38 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ken Cartisano': ""Wow. You covered a lot of ground and bases. Aliens, cryo-whatever-the-hell-they-call-it, post apocrophylic, (I just made that word up.) The stretch from hopelessness to a firm desire to live. It's a wonderful and creative story, Michal. Very nice clean writing."", 'time': '17:13 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks Ken! \n\nThat's a good word, deserving its own story :)\n\nI'm glad you enjoyed this piece. It was nice to switch to a more speculative sci-fi."", 'time': '20:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks Ken! \n\nThat's a good word, deserving its own story :)\n\nI'm glad you enjoyed this piece. It was nice to switch to a more speculative sci-fi."", 'time': '20:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': 'I love the way you gave us an ending with heart. Well done.', 'time': '17:00 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Ellen! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '20:40 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Ellen! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '20:40 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kelsey H': ""This is a really great spin on the 'waking up in the future' plot! It was a real emotional rollercoaster following the Anita through all her emotions after waking from initially feeling good to despair to some kind of acceptance. \n\nThe information about the new world she has come back to was slowly revealed in a natural seeming pace, it really matched with the wish of the other patients to not overwhelm her at first. I love the idea of the aliens keeping the humans to study and breed - creepy! \nI really like this line - They made a human str..."", 'time': '08:34 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Kelsey! Yeah, there were lots of ideas this generated for longer works, lots of questions. It was a challenge actually knowing where to draw the line for the 3k. \n\nThe idea of a zoo people get put in also really appeals to me. What's the natural instinct in that situation? Break out, right? Lots of story in that too. \n\nI appreciate the feedback, and I'm glad you enjoyed the story :)"", 'time': '20:42 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Kelsey! Yeah, there were lots of ideas this generated for longer works, lots of questions. It was a challenge actually knowing where to draw the line for the 3k. \n\nThe idea of a zoo people get put in also really appeals to me. What's the natural instinct in that situation? Break out, right? Lots of story in that too. \n\nI appreciate the feedback, and I'm glad you enjoyed the story :)"", 'time': '20:42 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Katy B': 'Wow: very creative, and different from a lot of your other writing. The very first paragraph really nabs the reader. Thank you for sharing!', 'time': '23:59 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Katy! Yup, wanted to try a different thing this time around, and the prose must fit the tone, mustn't it? I appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '21:58 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Katy! Yup, wanted to try a different thing this time around, and the prose must fit the tone, mustn't it? I appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '21:58 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': ""Lovely Michal\n You develop the story very well, the switch from past to present via cryo sleep is smoothly done and the emotions of the mc well portrayed. \nLike how time passes in the story. I'm always impressed by that it's something I can't seem to do. My stories always take place in real time spanning the course of just hours, it's always interesting to read stories like this where days or weeks pass by.\nAnother great read"", 'time': '20:17 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Derrick!\n\nA longer passage of time was a conscious decision here, so I'm glad to hear it worked out. I'm actually leery of it normally, in stories this short, since in 3k words it seems like you really need to focus, and long stretches of time open the door for getting sidetracked. But it was an interesting challenge. Instead of focusing on a concrete event, the thing here was a subtler, longer struggle.\n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '02:21 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Derrick!\n\nA longer passage of time was a conscious decision here, so I'm glad to hear it worked out. I'm actually leery of it normally, in stories this short, since in 3k words it seems like you really need to focus, and long stretches of time open the door for getting sidetracked. But it was an interesting challenge. Instead of focusing on a concrete event, the thing here was a subtler, longer struggle.\n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '02:21 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': 'Another thought-provoking tale from Michal. I found this one to be particularly sad and hopeful at the same time. It seems obvious that you were alluding to animals in captivity in zoos. Molly never saved all the elephants, but I suspect that the elephants had their revenge. \n\nThis tale, for some reason, reminded me of Douglas Adams\' ""Hitchhiker\'s"" books. Especially the parts about the dolphins and the mice. The lifeforms more intelligent than humans. The mice wanted to slice open Arthur Dent\'s brain to find the answer to life, the universe,...', 'time': '12:57 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Del! \n\nYeah, zoos - I had an idea in mind for a long time, of aliens putting humans into a zoo. It's only tangentially related to this story, but some of the themes overlap, just with the added pressure of everyone-else-is-dead-and-the-species-lives-and-dies-with-you. \n\nGlad to hear Anita's transformation worked. In this situation - waking up after you were certain you were dead, with your old word gone and all connections severed - I figured a person might feel adrift, isolated. A hard thing to deal with, no doubt. \n\nI didn't consid..."", 'time': '20:33 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Del! \n\nYeah, zoos - I had an idea in mind for a long time, of aliens putting humans into a zoo. It's only tangentially related to this story, but some of the themes overlap, just with the added pressure of everyone-else-is-dead-and-the-species-lives-and-dies-with-you. \n\nGlad to hear Anita's transformation worked. In this situation - waking up after you were certain you were dead, with your old word gone and all connections severed - I figured a person might feel adrift, isolated. A hard thing to deal with, no doubt. \n\nI didn't consid..."", 'time': '20:33 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Ela Mikh': 'I love a good Sci-Fi. This was very captivating and imaginative. Thank you!', 'time': '06:34 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Ela! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '20:35 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Ela! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)"", 'time': '20:35 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Thoughtful take on prompt. Such creativity. 'Those that came after her and those that went before'\nLovely story.\U0001f979\n\nCongrats on the shortlist.🥳🥳\nI am way behind this week cause I think I told you why.\nCongrats on the shortlist. I am way n"", 'time': '03:05 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Mary! Glad you enjoyed it :) I liked that line too. It would be a bit of a surreal situation, learning of all of your descendants, who nevertheless preceded you.', 'time': '20:38 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Thanks, Mary! Glad you enjoyed it :) I liked that line too. It would be a bit of a surreal situation, learning of all of your descendants, who nevertheless preceded you.', 'time': '20:38 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'Michał, this story was very moving and a lot of wow at the same time. \nPoor Anita ""woke up"" at a time unfamiliar to her and unsure of what next. Dennis seems to be on the ball and helps her out. \nShe cries tears of joy as she sees her family. So cool.\n\nI was sure I thought I found a fragment but I could not find it when I looked back to find it. Probably my mistake.', 'time': '01:52 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks for the keen eye, Lily! Something might well have slipped by, no matter how much we edit :) Let me know if you do spot it. \n\nYeah, the whole idea of cryonics is fascinating. If it ever worked, then waking up in an unfamiliar time and place would be inevitable, wouldn't it? But I guess if you were faced with death anyway, maybe that's a risk worth taking. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '20:40 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': 'NP LF6', 'time': '21:13 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks for the keen eye, Lily! Something might well have slipped by, no matter how much we edit :) Let me know if you do spot it. \n\nYeah, the whole idea of cryonics is fascinating. If it ever worked, then waking up in an unfamiliar time and place would be inevitable, wouldn't it? But I guess if you were faced with death anyway, maybe that's a risk worth taking. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '20:40 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'NP LF6', 'time': '21:13 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'NP LF6', 'time': '21:13 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Scott Christenson': ""This story carries some deep themes about life, and I'd say a touch of horror about what's going to happen to them. I liked how you described the aliens as something very hard to understand and communicate with. That's what I would be expecting. From the missing holes in physics theories, dark matter and so on, I suspect there are some other dimensions of existence that we just don't see being human. Ending with the video from her child was a heartwarming finish, well done."", 'time': '01:47 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Yeah, I've always liked the idea of truly alien aliens. I mean, I like Star Trek and all, but it seems a little convenient everyone's basically a humanoid. It's fascinating to think about all the weird and wonderful forms life might take - not that this piece delves too much into it :) \n\nGlad to hear there was a touch of horror. It probably would be a horrifying situation, and the sense of community and tentative optimism is probably quite fragile. \n\nI appreciate the feedback, Scott!"", 'time': '20:41 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Yeah, I've always liked the idea of truly alien aliens. I mean, I like Star Trek and all, but it seems a little convenient everyone's basically a humanoid. It's fascinating to think about all the weird and wonderful forms life might take - not that this piece delves too much into it :) \n\nGlad to hear there was a touch of horror. It probably would be a horrifying situation, and the sense of community and tentative optimism is probably quite fragile. \n\nI appreciate the feedback, Scott!"", 'time': '20:41 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Aeris Walker': 'The idea of a mother sealing herself into cryosleep while her child is still alive and hoping for her healing is one of the saddest thoughts. But then the sadness of that is blurred by the reality that hundreds of years have passed and all humans have somehow catastrophically become extinct. I like how you mention others coming alongside the MC for support during the acceptance and grieving phase of her new reality, as that seems very necessary and realistic. The ending was really special and satisfying—she gets a chance to interact with the...', 'time': '01:33 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Aeris! \n\nYeah, cryonics has always fascinated me. Even if it paid off and we cured your death sometime in the future, it really wouldn't be the same world, would it? Everything keeps moving forward, all the social connections get severed, etc. \n\nI'm glad Anita's journey was believable and satisfying. People would probably need a lot of support after something like that. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '20:43 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Aeris! \n\nYeah, cryonics has always fascinated me. Even if it paid off and we cured your death sometime in the future, it really wouldn't be the same world, would it? Everything keeps moving forward, all the social connections get severed, etc. \n\nI'm glad Anita's journey was believable and satisfying. People would probably need a lot of support after something like that. \n\nI appreciate the feedback!"", 'time': '20:43 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Marty B': ""How difficult it would be to live in a new reality without the familiar connections of shared experiences, no friends, no one even to discuss 'Teavey' shows with, and stuck inside because of 'things in the air! \n(similiar to the first weeks of the COVID lockdown, actually)\n              The Q12 drive then acted as a teleportation device to connect Anita with the reality she remembered, saving her.\nI felt you showed the confusion and fear Anita felt really well, demonstrating how it was a physical reaction to a unexpected new world. \nThanks!"", 'time': '01:28 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': 'Yeah, change is stressful, and change in every facet of your life, all at the same time - could be enough to push someone over the edge. Glad her journey through the confusion and fear came across. You\'re right about the ""teleportation"" - sometimes we need something to remind us of our connections, don\'t we? \n\nThanks for reading, Marty!', 'time': '20:43 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Yeah, change is stressful, and change in every facet of your life, all at the same time - could be enough to push someone over the edge. Glad her journey through the confusion and fear came across. You\'re right about the ""teleportation"" - sometimes we need something to remind us of our connections, don\'t we? \n\nThanks for reading, Marty!', 'time': '20:43 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Anna W': 'Tears! What a beautiful story. I’m so glad her friends intervened.  Thanks for sharing!', 'time': '00:00 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Anna! Yeah, I think they've done this before, and knew what was needed. I'm glad you enjoyed the story :)"", 'time': '20:45 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Thanks, Anna! Yeah, I think they've done this before, and knew what was needed. I'm glad you enjoyed the story :)"", 'time': '20:45 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,fodudl,Pinder,Nina Herbst,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/fodudl/,/short-story/fodudl/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],37 likes,"
	“Stop breathing on me,” Kerry said through gritted teeth. 
	“Technically, I’m not breathing. I’m filtering. But I suppose it means the same thing here,” Broggo said in reply. 
	“Ok, then stop FILTERING on me!” Kerry snapped and got up from the couch in a huff. 
	“I sense displeasure. And I believe it has been caused by me. Am I correct?” Broggo queried. 
	“Yes, it most definitely has been caused by you! Ugh! How YOU were matched with ME is…is…well it’s unexplainable!” Kerry yelled from across the room of her tiny apartment. 
	“Of course it’s explainable. You see, my kind were all entered into the Pinder database detailing our traits. All of your kind were also entered into the database, and through a series of precise calculations and analysis of data we were matched with each other. It is the most sensible way to account for the influx of population of my kind from Sliggo to Earth. We need shelter, and your kind can help us transition to life here. It’s quite genius.” Broggo explained. 
	“I KNOW the rationale behind it, you slimy, four-eyed, tentacled creature. I just don’t agree with it!” Kerry lamented. 
	“Article 8, Section 12 of the Planetary Habitation Agreement signed by your President indicates that failure to comply with Pinder placements will result in fines, imprisonment, and loss of citizenship,” Broggo reminded Kerry. 
	“That seems better right now than this living arrangement!” Kerry said, grabbing her car keys and heading for the door. 
	“I’m going to class. Do not touch anything. Or break anything. Or explore. I’ll be home in two hours and will make dinner. Do NOT go near the stove again when I’m gone! I still can’t get the left burners to work and I need another fire extinguisher after your last attempt!” Kerry said and stormed out the door. 
	“I believe we are making progress in our interspecies relationship,” Broggo said, turning his blue mouth upwards into a smile. 
	Kerry slammed her car door, and turned the key in the ignition. It has been over two months since the sky turned an unnatural shade of green, and spacecrafts made of unearthly metals emanating purple lights descended upon Earth. The majority landed all across the United States, with a handful in Europe and Asia. It was uncertain whether more would be coming, but something had to be done. In an unprecedented meeting of world leaders, it was decided that the best way to handle the situation was to welcome the alien creatures, assigning Earthmates to each one. A system was developed and quickly put into place, systematically matching Sliggon and human. Once assigned their Earthmate, they would be able to acclimate to life on this planet in peace. This planet did not need any more help destroying itself, and just maybe the Sliggons could help in an intergalactic partnership. 
	But some partnerships were a bit strained at the moment. Despite the scientific basis of Pinder, maybe not all matches were, well, well-matched. 
	Kerry sat in class taking notes on the profound works of various physicists. She couldn’t concentrate, and nothing she wrote made sense upon review. She sighed, set down her chewed up yellow number 2, and rested her head in her hands. She had a headache thinking of what Broggo was likely ruining back at home. 
 
	Back at home, Broggo was ruining Kerry’s favorite dresses as he attempted to color code them in her closet. He did not agree with the current haphazard arrangement, which unsettled his thought patterns. As he pulled each dress down, he tore several and slimed up the others. Tide Stain Remover was no match for whatever chemical composition coated Broggo’s exterior. 
	In an unsuccessful attempt to rehang the clothes, he accidentally tore down the bar in the closet they hung on. He stared with all four of his eyes at the wooden bar his tentacled arms were wrapped around. 
	“Well. This is not going as I had planned,” Broggo said to the spider plant hanging in the window. He always waited for a reply. He never got one. 
 
	Kerry closed her notebook, gathered her things, and steeled herself against the thought of heading home to Broggo. 
	She thought about his attempt to cook her dinner. He took a cup of strawberry yogurt from the fridge, put it in a pot on the stove, and added Cheerios, three Oreos, and several scoops of corn starch. The plastic yogurt cup melted, everything caught on fire, and her kitchen hasn’t smelled the same since. But he wanted to make her happy. That’s more than most people in her life these days. Maybe she wasn’t giving him a chance. She wasn’t the easiest to live with either. She was messy, unorganized, and a free spirit when it came to chore completion. She had a motto of “why do today what can be done tomorrow?” 
	Kerry suddenly swiped right into the drive-thru of Dunkin Donuts. She ordered half a dozen assorted donuts, a chocolate frozen coffee, and a vanilla latte. Even Sliggons would appreciate that, right? 
	She drove home sipping her latte, ready to present her peace offering. She had lost her temper for no reason, and it wasn’t the first time. Maybe being Earthmates wouldn’t be so bad after all if she gave Broggo a chance. And nobody (no creature?) could be worse than her last human one. She still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing her boyfriend right under her nose, then parading him around the apartment. After living in an awkward, uncomfortable sea of tension for two weeks, they both found a new place together.  What was she even thinking? Humans can be awful creatures. 
	Kerry laughed and thought “Hmph, good riddance to both of them! Broggo may very well burn the place down, but he’s never going to backstab.”  
	And with that, Kerry unlocked the door and went back to her (their) apartment.  She watched with a smile as a thankful Broggo inserted three Boston Cremes into his stomach opening.
	Maybe Pinder got it right after all. 
 
 
 
 
","August 09, 2023 13:54","[[{'Marty B': 'I like how inter-species communication hinges on Dunkin Donuts! \nI appreciate your optimistic portrayal on interactions with an alien people -versus the historical (Europeans anyway) of meeting new civilizations and destroying them ;(\n    Kerry need a trustworthy friend, and it took an extra terrestrial invasion- but she found one! \nThanks!', 'time': '04:46 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'I’m not ashamed to say my friendship could be bought with Dunkin too 😂 \n\nmaybe it’s a naive view of the world to imagine an “invasion” this way. But I think alien bonding would just be the icing on the donut if it played out that way 😄\n\nThanks for reading, Marty!!', 'time': '21:33 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'I’m not ashamed to say my friendship could be bought with Dunkin too 😂 \n\nmaybe it’s a naive view of the world to imagine an “invasion” this way. But I think alien bonding would just be the icing on the donut if it played out that way 😄\n\nThanks for reading, Marty!!', 'time': '21:33 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Russell Mickler': 'Hi Nina!\n\nWell, off the bat, you establish the rancor and animosity the characters have for each other and confine them in a room. That’s tension-making from the start!\n\nI like how Kerry described the alien in dialogue.\n\nWow. We can’t impose stricter gun control, but we can force Americans to house alien critters and tentacles - messed up!\n\nThe transition between thinking about what Broggo was destroying to Brogue destroying was very good.\n\nI did the humor and comedy of the piece and the good-feeling cooperation at the end. I expect to read ...', 'time': '15:40 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hey Russell! \nI’m glad you liked that transition! I was happy with it and it’s nice to know someone appreciated it!! \nYeah, I think bringing back a version of the Quartering Act would go over easier than any sort of gun reform here. 😬🤷🏼\u200d♀️ \nThanks so much for the read, and your comments! I always enjoy them 😄', 'time': '16:22 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hey Russell! \nI’m glad you liked that transition! I was happy with it and it’s nice to know someone appreciated it!! \nYeah, I think bringing back a version of the Quartering Act would go over easier than any sort of gun reform here. 😬🤷🏼\u200d♀️ \nThanks so much for the read, and your comments! I always enjoy them 😄', 'time': '16:22 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Heh, that's quite funny :) And underneath it all, a good lesson about not letting the little things rile you up too much. Ultimately she chose to give friendship a chance, which is a nice, hopeful ending. \n\nAlso, the scene where he completely trashes her closet by accident is visually hilarious :)"", 'time': '20:33 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks for reading,Michał! And yes, someone else commented that she offers friendship BEFORE seeing her closet… 😂 \nThe ups and downs of cohabitation!!', 'time': '21:26 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks for reading,Michał! And yes, someone else commented that she offers friendship BEFORE seeing her closet… 😂 \nThe ups and downs of cohabitation!!', 'time': '21:26 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': ""I enjoyed the Hell out of your story, Nina. Excellent imagination & uses of the ol' noodle, which I give worthy credit to. Odds are that is how aliens would, or already do, perceive and/or react to us Earthlings."", 'time': '18:50 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hi Joe! I don’t know, I may be giving humans too much credit with how an alien species would interact with us 😂 \nThanks for the kind words and reading!!', 'time': '21:29 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hi Joe! I don’t know, I may be giving humans too much credit with how an alien species would interact with us 😂 \nThanks for the kind words and reading!!', 'time': '21:29 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Patrick H': 'Yeah this sounds about right.  It hits on immigration issues etc and on roommate issues too. Nicely done!', 'time': '17:26 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hey Patrick! Thanks for the read and comment! After all the roommates I’ve had, I could probably write a novel on that subject 😂', 'time': '17:44 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hey Patrick! Thanks for the read and comment! After all the roommates I’ve had, I could probably write a novel on that subject 😂', 'time': '17:44 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ken Cartisano': ""I am in compliance with this story's philosophy. Human's bah."", 'time': '16:39 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': '😂 yep, they can be awful!', 'time': '18:53 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': '😂 yep, they can be awful!', 'time': '18:53 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Tom Skye': 'Firstly, this was a brilliant premise.\n\nStory had a light silly feel(in a good way)but you could definitely sense the political allusions throughout.  \n\nNice ""swipe right"" pun into the donut place as well :)\n\nGood job. Really enjoyed it', 'time': '16:37 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ayndy Lou': ""Aw, that's a really sweet and cute story! 😁 I like the idea that they gave everyone earthmates as a peaceful way to integrate them."", 'time': '15:40 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thank you Ayndy Lou! It’s kind of like in elementary school when a new kid comes and the teacher tells everyone to play with their new friend, show them around, and be nice 😂', 'time': '16:25 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thank you Ayndy Lou! It’s kind of like in elementary school when a new kid comes and the teacher tells everyone to play with their new friend, show them around, and be nice 😂', 'time': '16:25 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Vid Weeks': 'funny and surprisingly touching, loved it.', 'time': '10:16 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks so much, Vid 😄', 'time': '10:23 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks so much, Vid 😄', 'time': '10:23 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Fernando César': 'Hi Nina!\nI enjoyed reading this story! I specially liked the beginning, and how you set up the context of the story. I did feel the middle was a bit too long. All the flashback to explain how they were set up and how the aliens arrived, I think I would prefer something more on the lines of “show don’t tell”, but as always, very subjective!\nAs someone else said, I wasn’t expecting a humorous dating app criticism with this prompt, so kudos for the creativity.', 'time': '21:43 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hi Fernando! Thank you for your feedback! A valid point about “show don’t tell”. I did try to keep it short and sweet there, but don’t want to lose the reader’s attention. I wanted to explain the process that set them up though with a little detail. \nThanks so much for reading and commenting!! 😄', 'time': '23:05 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Hi Fernando! Thank you for your feedback! A valid point about “show don’t tell”. I did try to keep it short and sweet there, but don’t want to lose the reader’s attention. I wanted to explain the process that set them up though with a little detail. \nThanks so much for reading and commenting!! 😄', 'time': '23:05 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Carlton W. Gant III': 'Never expected to see this prompt get used to make a lighthearted commentary/parody of dating apps. Very nice.', 'time': '21:07 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': 'The Odd Couple meets Alien! I enjoyed this. Adorable characters.', 'time': '20:54 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Lol!! You’re so right!!! 😂', 'time': '23:06 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Lol!! You’re so right!!! 😂', 'time': '23:06 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'He sounds adorable and disgusting all at the same time lol\n\nI was highly amused by this story and would have loved a longer version. Very well done!', 'time': '18:34 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Lol!! Doesn’t he though?? 😄 \n\nThanks so much for the kind words, and I take it as a wonderful compliment that you would have liked more!! ☺️', 'time': '20:17 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Lol!! Doesn’t he though?? 😄 \n\nThanks so much for the kind words, and I take it as a wonderful compliment that you would have liked more!! ☺️', 'time': '20:17 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Joe Smallwood': '""Broggo said to the spider plant hanging in the window. He always waited for a reply. He never got one."" lol \nCreature compassion on display here. I enjoyed this. Thanks.', 'time': '12:12 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks, Joe! It’s a small detail, but revealing, and I’m glad you pulled it out!!! 😄', 'time': '12:41 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks, Joe! It’s a small detail, but revealing, and I’m glad you pulled it out!!! 😄', 'time': '12:41 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Haha very good Nina\nI can see this being a thing when the aliens get here lol\nAnd yea, alien, human, its so hard to find a good match!\nFun story, I once went glamping and the place had no crockery so i had to buy some plastic ones from a store. next morning, on autopilot, i put breakfast cereal and milk in a plastic bowl---and put it in the microwave to heat it!! lol you can imagine the rest!', 'time': '08:00 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Ah Derrick! You microwaved your plastic breakfast! 😂 well, live and learn and laugh, right?? I’ve found you should also not microwave a whole egg. That didn’t end well for me. 🤣\nThanks for the read, comments, and fun story!', 'time': '10:11 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Ah Derrick! You microwaved your plastic breakfast! 😂 well, live and learn and laugh, right?? I’ve found you should also not microwave a whole egg. That didn’t end well for me. 🤣\nThanks for the read, comments, and fun story!', 'time': '10:11 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Karen McDermott': 'A cute and funny story. Thanks for sharing!', 'time': '06:55 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks for reading, Karen! 😄', 'time': '10:13 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Thanks for reading, Karen! 😄', 'time': '10:13 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': ""But she hasn't seen her closet yet! Funny premise 😂"", 'time': '20:20 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nina Herbst': 'Lol!! True!! Maybe she’ll take it all in stride as he was just trying to help again 🤣', 'time': '20:44 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Mary Bendickson': ""Let's hope she discovers his true talents soon."", 'time': '20:50 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Lol!! True!! Maybe she’ll take it all in stride as he was just trying to help again 🤣', 'time': '20:44 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Let's hope she discovers his true talents soon."", 'time': '20:50 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Let's hope she discovers his true talents soon."", 'time': '20:50 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ge5qk2,Is Anybody Down There,Mary Bendickson,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ge5qk2/,/short-story/ge5qk2/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fantasy', 'Speculative']",34 likes,"
Is Anybody Down ThereThe pilot aimed her craft toward the ocean surface at near mach one speed and effortlessly splashed through the rolling waves. Quickly passing all the scenic routes of coral reefs and colorful marine life within minutes the ship was cruising in the bleak abyss at about 16,000 feet below the deep blue sea.“Hey, watch out for that whale! How long have you had your license?”“Since before you were born, Petty Officer Pretty Boy. And what is a whale doing down this far, anyway?”“Probably dead and drifting downward.”“Good. More fodder for the fold.” Beamed the jovial commander.“You seem in a peculiar pleasant mood considering the report we are about to give the Supreme Potentate. But I wish you wouldn't call me 'Pretty Boy'.“Well, that's what you are to me and why shouldn't I call you that when we are alone?”“For one thing, I am a full grown male with all the equipment to prove it.” He insisted waving his proof in her face. “And, although I am pleased you think I am good looking, 'pretty' is not the correct vernacular to use towards a male of a species. Haven't you been keeping up with proper protocol at all?”“You wave that appendage in my face one more time and I'll call your bluff and you know where that will leave you. Of course, me too, but I would at least get to see the offspring. You would be long gone. Like that whale. Fodder. Why do you think we haven't done anything so foolish yet? Even though we may both want to and have been tempted many times.”“You're correct as usual. With us, unfortunately, indulgence like that is one and done. It just doesn't seem fair does it? Those dolts up top just do it for the pleasure of it and not even to procreate every time. Most of the time they don't take it seriously and don't take the responsibility necessary to raise intelligent offspring. No wonder our kind have witnessed such decline in their abilities. They flail about trying to put something out there to prove we exist, but just leave trash heaps everywhere. Why, even their attempts at exploring down here are dismal failures with loss of life not to mention the heap of trash once more. Maybe it is a good thing we finally come out of hiding and show ourselves to them. We can teach them a thing or two.”“It does make you wonder what Gracious Omnipotent Deity was thinking when He granted them dominion over the earth and created them in His own likeness. Seemed more of an afterthought since He added them last. They can't even recognize what is right under their noses. Call us 'aliens' when we have been here longer than they have been.”“Well, My Dearest, talk about longevity, neither of us have that much longer to enjoy the fruits of our labor so instead of just admiring all the succulent things about one another we should maybe pass our ship duties to the younger explorers and finally give in to our wanton wants. It may only be a one time adventure but we can make it last for days, My Love. I only want to wrap you in my arms.” He caressed her cheek with his free arm while maneuvering the ship into the docking station. “Here we are. Time to face the facts.”“Thanks for taking over that little maneuver. You are good with your hands. Maybe I'll think about your indecent proposal. We should exchange the aqua in the FBFS and refuel before we make our report. And I would like to change out of this confining body suit into something more comfortable. Whose idea was it anyway to try to take on their two-pod ways anyway?”“Someone way back in the 1940's because of an incident at Roswell is all I understand about it. We try to maintain that image because that's what they are expecting. Need any help with the zipper?” His bulging eyes popped wide twice with hopeful anticipation.“I say it is time for them to face the facts, too, then. No, but thanks for the offer. Meet you in his outer sanctuary in about ten.” She sauntered away towards the dressing rooms making sure he did not miss the swing of her hips in the tight little green suit.<><><>“Well, I must say, Commander, you clean up pretty well. I like your skirt showing off all your limbs. Wouldn't mind...”“Hush now, Officer. We may be overheard. Must practice complete decorum.”Secretary, “The Supreme Potentate will receive you now, Commander and Officer. Right this way, please.”They were let into an opulent palace throne room resplendent in marble columns, multi-colored coral reefs in jewel hues, swaying seaweed and giant clam shells. The Supreme Potentate reclined in one of those shells at the end of the room. He raised an arm in greeting.“Welcome once again to my chamber. What good news do you have to report from your mission? We have been picking up strange information from the cables strung across the sea floor. Is it true they are telling the world we do exist? Have they discovered our true nature? Will they be mounting an invasion?”The visitors bowed deeply brushing their skirts to the ground. The Commander spoke, “Yes, Your Eminence, it is true. At least in the US of A government halls they are making known sightings by respectable members of their military and reputable pilots. They claim they have seen unidentifiable flying objects in the air space around them that maneuver in unexplained ways far superior to their own craft or any known technology of other nations. They have captured us on film. The nations may even corroborate to verify something of such magnitude this time. Who knows on that point? But they are admitting they have specimens from the Roswell fiasco.“They are describing in better details our Fish Bowl Flying Saucers now understanding why the domes are full of water and why the inhabitants can't survive in their atmosphere for more than say an hour. Likewise, they can not survive in our natural habitat without special accommodations. We found that out by trial and error ourselves when we tried harvesting them from their fields.”“Are the proletarians believing their rulers?”“There has been so much fake news circulating and people are leery of trusting their government these days so it is really difficult to know. No panic has set in yet. And if there are plans for a military response it is very incandescent. We may be safe continuing as we have for centuries. Keeping our sunken treasures secret.”“This world is so big and diverse I don't see why there couldn't remain room for us all as long as someone doesn't destroy the delicate balance. They stay up top and we run the seabed. Yes, we are far more advanced being able to devise miraculous inventions with the power of our minds and trust in the Gracious Omnipotent Deity to supply all our needs. We do not make war. With all our arms we make love...”“Speaking of making love, Oh, Supreme Potentate, The Commander and I were wondering if we could be decommissioned so we could...?”“Oh, oh, yes. I can see where you are going. You have both served long with devout loyalty. I can see no reason why you shouldn't live a little so to speak... Best of mating to you and may you be blessed with 100,000 baby octopuses.”
","August 09, 2023 03:15","[[{'Amanda Lieser': 'Hey Mary!\nWhat an interesting spin on the prompt. This one absolutely deserved a second read. I loved the romance and admired that most of this piece was told through conversation. I also really liked the way your story leaned on your understanding of military structure to add some human approach to it all. Nice work!!', 'time': '23:19 Aug 22, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for reading and liking and commenting.\nNever can tell where those UFOs come from.🛸', 'time': '23:24 Aug 22, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for reading and liking and commenting.\nNever can tell where those UFOs come from.🛸', 'time': '23:24 Aug 22, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ken Cartisano': 'Awwww, I believe you played me for a sucker, Mary. Nice surprise ending.', 'time': '18:12 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'I see what you did there. Very clever!\nThanks for reading and commenting.\n\nAm behind on my reading this week\n Went to Nashville for awards dinner and I won my genre!! 🎉🎉🥳🥳 Woohoo \nBest western category.\nFirst 50 pages of unpubished novel.\nTrampled Dreams,, TD 2 and Justice Screams in my profile are part of that 50 pages.', 'time': '15:46 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Ken Cartisano': ""You won a writing award? That's wonderful, Mary. I'm extremely jealous, but  congratulations are in order. What genre?"", 'time': '01:34 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Mary Bendickson': 'Not sure I ever answered this. Thanks and it was in the best western genre. The award was for the best 50 pages of an unpublished manuscript.', 'time': '17:31 Aug 30, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'I see what you did there. Very clever!\nThanks for reading and commenting.\n\nAm behind on my reading this week\n Went to Nashville for awards dinner and I won my genre!! 🎉🎉🥳🥳 Woohoo \nBest western category.\nFirst 50 pages of unpubished novel.\nTrampled Dreams,, TD 2 and Justice Screams in my profile are part of that 50 pages.', 'time': '15:46 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Ken Cartisano': ""You won a writing award? That's wonderful, Mary. I'm extremely jealous, but  congratulations are in order. What genre?"", 'time': '01:34 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Mary Bendickson': 'Not sure I ever answered this. Thanks and it was in the best western genre. The award was for the best 50 pages of an unpublished manuscript.', 'time': '17:31 Aug 30, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Ken Cartisano': ""You won a writing award? That's wonderful, Mary. I'm extremely jealous, but  congratulations are in order. What genre?"", 'time': '01:34 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Not sure I ever answered this. Thanks and it was in the best western genre. The award was for the best 50 pages of an unpublished manuscript.', 'time': '17:31 Aug 30, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Not sure I ever answered this. Thanks and it was in the best western genre. The award was for the best 50 pages of an unpublished manuscript.', 'time': '17:31 Aug 30, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Wait, they’re in the ocean, not space?!? Gasp!!! Lol!!! \nGreat story,Mary! I love the parts where they nit-pick humans and their flaws. And how they decide to wear alien “suits” to go along with the charade of what they look like after “the Roswell fiasco”. It’s just filled with great bits and details that all come together as you write it! And, a satisfying “finish” at the end 😝', 'time': '09:26 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting. \nYou just never know?🤔', 'time': '13:31 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting. \nYou just never know?🤔', 'time': '13:31 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Russell Mickler': 'Hi Mary!\n\nA merger of the underwater world with a dash of humor and a touch of romance, and I liked the correlation made to UFO sightings. \n\nAnother fun read from your massive Reedsy portfolio! :)\n\nR', 'time': '22:16 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for reading,liking and commenting.', 'time': '22:31 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for reading,liking and commenting.', 'time': '22:31 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Linda Lovendahl': 'I laughed when I saw the reference to Roswell because I had researched it for background on a story! \nYou had fun writing this because it literally flowed in rhythm. I had to reread the first paragraph a couple times to figure out the ship was coming from outer space. \nYou like how positive I write my stories and you definitely achieved it in this one. Bravo!', 'time': '23:45 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting 😊', 'time': '01:16 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting 😊', 'time': '01:16 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Helen A Smith': 'Great fun and an interesting take on the prompt. It could be feasible too. We humans know so little, but like to think we know everything.', 'time': '07:03 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking. You just never know.', 'time': '07:21 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking. You just never know.', 'time': '07:21 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mike Rush': ""Mary,\n\nWhat a great rollicking tale. Sex and theology, from aliens!\n\nI wondered about this sentence.\n\nAnd if there are plans for a military response it is very incandescent.\n\nDoesn't incandescent mean glowing or something like that?\n\nI liked how you worked in Roswell and trashed oceans.\n\nIt was a fun read.\n\nMike"", 'time': '17:49 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Very true about incandescent. Does inclandescent work? Sometimes auto correct over corrects? Too late now to change. \nThanks for liking and commenting.', 'time': '17:59 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Very true about incandescent. Does inclandescent work? Sometimes auto correct over corrects? Too late now to change. \nThanks for liking and commenting.', 'time': '17:59 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ela Mikh': 'Mind-blowing! Very enjoyable and thought-provoking, I loved the ending \nThank you', 'time': '21:54 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks', 'time': '00:21 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks', 'time': '00:21 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Jonathan Page': 'Great story, Mary!  You did a great job with the dialogue.  Good mix of revealing plot, world building, and carrying on a flirty repartee.  The “fish bowl” flying saucers idea is very creative.  I am imagining ships like in the Jetsons.', 'time': '14:48 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting 😊. And reading another one,too.', 'time': '15:44 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting 😊. And reading another one,too.', 'time': '15:44 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Steffen Lettau': 'Definitely speculative!  Thumbs up!', 'time': '05:38 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting ☺️.', 'time': '15:45 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for liking and commenting ☺️.', 'time': '15:45 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': '""waving his proof in her face"" Ha! \n\nThis was a fun read. And I love the idea that we should be looking down, not up.', 'time': '21:11 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Yep his weapon of choice is at the end of one of his arms.\nWe put G.O.D. in a box when we think He could not have been creative enough to make even smarter critters than us here on earth.😁', 'time': '21:32 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Yep his weapon of choice is at the end of one of his arms.\nWe put G.O.D. in a box when we think He could not have been creative enough to make even smarter critters than us here on earth.😁', 'time': '21:32 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Another cool story Mary, I loved this. \nThis line:\nThey were let into an opulent palace throne room resplendent in marble columns, multi-colored coral reefs in jewel hues, swaying seaweed and giant clam shells.\n----is fab! Envious of your desciptive abilities.\nNicely picked up on current real world events also!\nFantastic', 'time': '08:07 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for the like and glowing comment.', 'time': '12:29 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for the like and glowing comment.', 'time': '12:29 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Katy B': 'Mary: I LOVED this so much :) thank you for sharing!!!', 'time': '23:57 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for the 💕 love and  comment.', 'time': '04:10 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for the 💕 love and  comment.', 'time': '04:10 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Ah yes, it\'s so easy for us to dismiss the creatures we share this planet with as ""lesser"", but who really knows, right? Douglas Adams had dolphins and mice, here we have octopuses. \n\nThe religious side to this is interesting. It seems they worship an Abrahamic deity, ""He granted them dominion over the earth and created them in His own likeness"", and yet in our popular culture, octopuses/squids/etc are indeed seen as alien creatures, and associated with dread entities like Cthulhu. \n\nVery interesting to think about who, or what, might be wat...', 'time': '20:37 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'This whole week is rife with interesting theories. Thanks for the like and comment.', 'time': '04:07 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'This whole week is rife with interesting theories. Thanks for the like and comment.', 'time': '04:07 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'Mary loved this tale. Especially since the many armed (octopuses) were elaborating on the ignorance of man. That is rich. Well done. I guess the fact they live so little time means that they know more because they live a whole lifetime in those two short years.\nA major plan to keep man in the dark. Interesting and devious. \nSuch great writing was demonstrated here. \n\nI think you last line might need a tweak. ""and may you be bless with 100,000 baby octopuses.” to say be blessed?\n\nExcellent story loved the take on the prompt. LF6', 'time': '19:16 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks 🙏.', 'time': '23:13 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': 'Just so damn good woman. Well done. BRAVO! LF6', 'time': '23:25 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks 🙏.', 'time': '23:13 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Just so damn good woman. Well done. BRAVO! LF6', 'time': '23:25 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Just so damn good woman. Well done. BRAVO! LF6', 'time': '23:25 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Anna W': 'I enjoyed this story, Mary. Great take on the prompt! I love that they’re right under our nose but we can’t see it. Thanks for sharing!', 'time': '14:54 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Marty B': 'The octopus are totally intelligent and totally making fun of us only 4- limbed land walkers. Those octopus only live 2 years though, so they need to make a lot of babies!\n\nThanks!', 'time': '04:16 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'They live those two years to the fullest 😀.\nThanks for liking and commenting.', 'time': '05:07 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'They live those two years to the fullest 😀.\nThanks for liking and commenting.', 'time': '05:07 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': 'Wow, that was Great! Yes, the government keeps us in the dark, and it\'s believed by many that the aliens made us. I did not see the end coming, your story fooled me with an excellent ending twist. When I read your last line, ""may you be bless with 100,000 baby octopuses.” I literally spoke aloud the words, ""Oh, wow...!"" Superb idea, Mary.', 'time': '15:52 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thank you so much. Glad you liked it and I fooled you a little!', 'time': '17:37 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Joe Malgeri': ': )', 'time': '18:17 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thank you so much. Glad you liked it and I fooled you a little!', 'time': '17:37 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Joe Malgeri': ': )', 'time': '18:17 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Joe Malgeri': ': )', 'time': '18:17 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michelle Oliver': 'Haha Mary, the aliens have been here all along!\nQuick pick up, “He bulging eyes popped wide twice with hopeful anticipation.” His bulging eyes…\n\nThanks for sharing a cute octopus romance in the making. A one and done, kind of seems like a waste doesn’t it… hahaha', 'time': '14:22 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for the catch and the like.', 'time': '15:06 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Thanks for the catch and the like.', 'time': '15:06 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Khadija S. Mohammad': ""I was a bit confused about what they were talking about but... Great story!\n\nAnd OCTOPUS...ES.ODES.I. Can't not love a story about octopuses/octopodes/octopi or whatever they're called! 😁\n\n(I think maybe part of it was reference to if the female eats the male after they mate which is why they're not?)"", 'time': '06:10 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Thinking of you the whole way.\nWhat I read about the plural options was octopuses is English version. Opctopod the extremely learned like you. Opctopi kind of obsolete. All the same.\nThey don't eat the mate but he slinks off to die. She tends to the eggs then does the same.   Some say the other way around. But you are the expert.\nThey are highly intelligent so the idea is they have disguised themselves and been spying on us all a long. They can pull up six arms and walk upright on two so why not slip on a little green man suit? Big head with..."", 'time': '11:15 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Thinking of you the whole way.\nWhat I read about the plural options was octopuses is English version. Opctopod the extremely learned like you. Opctopi kind of obsolete. All the same.\nThey don't eat the mate but he slinks off to die. She tends to the eggs then does the same.   Some say the other way around. But you are the expert.\nThey are highly intelligent so the idea is they have disguised themselves and been spying on us all a long. They can pull up six arms and walk upright on two so why not slip on a little green man suit? Big head with..."", 'time': '11:15 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,1rpizy,Take Me To Your Leader,Chris Campbell,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/1rpizy/,/short-story/1rpizy/,Science Fiction,0,"['Funny', 'Science Fiction']",33 likes,"
	“Greetings! We come in peace. Take me to your leader.”	James “Dinky” Murray stood motionless with his jaw dropped and mouth agape at the eight feet tall man towering over him on his front porch. Being seven years old and two-fifths the size of the stranger, caused him to strain his neck trying to look up at the man’s face, and the more he strained, the more his face distorted and stretched into a look of unintelligence.	“Mom!” Dinky shouted – without breaking eye contact. “It’s for you!”	“Who is it, dear?” Dinky’s mother shouted from the kitchen where she was preparing dinner.	“He’s some big Mo-Fo selling world peace or something.”	“James Alabaster Murray, where did you learn that word?”	“From Dad.”	“I’ve never heard your father speak like that?”	“Yeahhh! He does that when watching the Internet.”	“Greetings!” Repeated the stranger at the front door.	“Hi,” Dinky replied nonchalantly. “What do you want?”	“We come in peace.”	“Mom, I think he’s one of those Jehova Witness assholes, dad’s always tellin’ to get lost.”	“Young man. There’ll be no more of that kind of language in this house,” Dinky’s mother scolded. “I don’t care what your daddy calls them. You are not to use profanity.”	“Greetings, Earthling,” the stranger repeated. “Take me to your leader.”	“She’s in the kitchen,” Dinky explained. “Making me my dinner.”	Stooping low to avoid hitting his egg-shaped head on the mantle of the doorway, the stranger gently brushed past the small human, but was quickly halted with a tug on his long cobalt-coloured cape that loosely dragged behind him.	“My mom says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”	“What is your name, Earthling?”	“Dinky. On account of my size.”	“Well, Dinky on account of my size. I am Five Magger Orit. A name earned on the number of maggers I own. Now that we’ve been introduced, you may talk to me. From what I have studied in the great hall of cosmic wisdom on the customs of your people, upon introduction, strangers become friends. So, I am no longer a stranger to you.”	“What’s a magger?” Dinky innocently asked.	“It is what you would call, a starship.”	“Like, in space?”	“Where else, Dinky human?”	“How many have you got?”	“Five. But I already explained that to you, small brainchild.”	“You talk funny.” 	“That is because I do not come from here.”	Attempting to continue his advance into the house, the stranger was once again halted by another tug on his cape.	“Where do you come from, then?” Dinky wanted to know.	“Five parseps and three wormholes from here.”	“Is that far?”	“It is - when the solar wind is against you.”	The interstellar and intellectually distanced conversation was abruptly halted by the crash of a glass bowl smashing on the dining room floor. Dinky’s mother, Alice, had come to investigate the unfamiliar voice in her house. Seeing a giant man with an odd-shaped head wearing a gold jumpsuit and a richly deep blue coloured cape flowing from high on his neck to his feet and one shoe size further, shocked her senses beyond reasonable acceptance. However, the smashing sound of the glass contacting hard floor, snapped Alice out of her momentary trance.	“Who… who who are you, mister?” Alice demanded to know.	“This is Ori, Mom.” 	Dinky devilishly laughed as he finished his jovial introduction. 	“He says he’s from where they eat parsnips and worms.”	“No, that is not what I said, small Earthling,” the stranger tried to correct the boy.	“Can he stay for dinner?”	Turning his attention to Alice, the stranger greeted her, repeating his earlier introduction.	“Greetings! We come in peace. The young sapling here, says you are his leader.”	Thinking the wide-eyed woman’s similar expression to her son’s earlier agape mouth was an Earth greeting custom, prompted the stranger to mimic her look of surprise, revealing a disturbing view of a third eye in the middle of his throat. Panicking, Alice swiftly clutched at Dinky, pulling him into the protection of her arms. 	“You better be gittin’ mister. My husband is due home any second now, and he don’t like canvassers, salesmen, or bible thumpers knockin’ at our door.”	“Husband?” Asked the stranger.	“Yes, the man of the house. The bread winner.”	“You are not the leader?” The stranger confusedly asked, lowering his chin to conceal the extra eye.	“Dad’s the leader,” Dinky volunteered. “He bakes bread and brings it home to eat.”	“Then, take me to your leader, Earth midget.”	“Alice?”	“Ray!” Shrieked Alice at the sight of Dinky’s dad appearing at the front door.	“Dad! Come meet Ori. He wants to talk to you.”	Placing a basket of baked goods onto the couch, Ray cautiously entered his own home.	“Listen, Mister. If you’re selling something, we’re not interested.”	“Greetings, Leader,” the stranger reiterated. “We come in peace. There are many things to be discussed,” he tried to explain.	“Can Ori stay for dinner, Dad? He’s been eating worms and parsnips and sounds hungry. Maybe, you could give him some of your cakes from your shop?”	“That true, Mister? You homeless?”	“That is a term I do not comprehend. I have a home. All my people have a home. I am but a simple traveller passing on a message from the stars, who has been tasked to bring you great news. We would like to share our technology with you that will end all hunger, poverty, and war.”	“Oh, I get it,” Ray realised. “You’re from that new church in town. The one with the science name. Oh, what is it?”	“Scientology, sweetheart.”	“That’s it. The Church of Scientology. Well, I can categorically tell you, Mister?”	“Ori, Dad.”	“Mister Ori. We don’t have the kind of money your people require to join your little space club.”	“We desire no recompense. I come bearing gifts.”	“Yeah, heard that one before, ain’t we, Alice.”	“Uh huh,” Alice concurred. “Like that time Waylon Huckstable down at the bank, offered us an interest-free loan that needed to be paid back before we could afford to. Then, the bank added twenty percent interest compounded daily. It was about all we could do to pay it off before it ruined us.”	“Don’t no-one get somethin’ for nuthin’ in this life,” Ray added. “There’s always a price to pay. We may live in the backwoods of Tennessee, Mister, but we’ve got the Internet now, and we read a lot of its free knowledge on that there Wikipedia web site. So, we ain’t no fools.”	“Cept, it ain’t free, is it, Hun. We still have to pay for access to it.”	“Fair point,” Ray agreed.	“Yeah,” Dinky interjected. “My daddy has to pay for some of the things he likes to read on the Innernet. Specially, that one called Hooters, Hooters, and More.”	“Dinky, that’s not what I’m talking about, and you shouldn’t be spying on people.”	“Ray?” Alice’s one-word chastisement made its point.”	“He didn’t see anything bad.”	“You know I don’t tolerate cussing and immoral behaviour in this house.”	“Come on, Alice! You ain’t with the Baptists no more. Free your mind.”	“Earth Woman, you would be wise to listen to your leader,” the stranger advised.	“Listen, Mister. He ain’t my leader. He’s just my Hornery husband and nuthin’ else.”	“But I was led to believe that…”	“Who said he was my leader?” Alice defiantly asked.	Without replying, the stranger turned to look at Dinky, then stretched a very long index finger in his direction.	“Shucks, Mister Ori,” Ray half-apologised. “He’s only seven years old. That’s a very impressionable age, and Dinky here is like a sponge soaking up information without processing it. Everything just gets thrown into whatever bucket he wants to fill. He then interprets it with the minimum of experience and with hardly any knowledge to make any real sense out of it.”	“If that is what you Earth people call an analogy,” the stranger derided. “It fell several parsecs short of the planet Logic.” 	Trying to decipher the stranger’s criticism that bore an alien style of facetiousness, Ray felt a pang of impertinence course through him.	“Where you from, Mister?”	“Now that I have discovered you are not whom I seek,” the stranger’s dismissive reply rang out. “I am bound by intergalactic code to offer no further information until you take me to your leader.”	“I work for myself,” Ray adamantly pointed out. “I am my own boss. I lead myself and I am led by myself.”	“It is contradictory terminology to be your own leader,” the stranger emphasised. “The Proletariat must have guidance. It is a universal understanding.”	Ray paused a moment, searching his head for the unfamiliar word just mentioned. With raised eyebrows asking Alice for a little help, Ray was enthusiastically enlightened.	“He means, the working class, Ray,” Alice nudged. “I think he’s a Socialist.”	“What religion is that?” Ray ignorantly asked.	“It ain’t no religion, Ray. It’s a movement. A kind of downtrodden and repressed social class of people who have lost faith in their leadership, and struggle to find a way out of their oppressed predicament.”	“Your female cook displays wisdom beyond her menial position in your small kingdom,” the stranger opined.	“Yeah,” Ray proudly agreed. “She’s a college girl with two years of sociology under her belt. Had to drop out early due to getting in the family way. Heck, it was either baby or education, weren’t it, Alice.”	“Uh huh. This cook got brains, Mister,” she defiantly stated, prompting Ray to bring the explanation to a close.	“We just couldn’t afford both.”	“Poverty does not exist amongst my people,” the stranger boasted.	“Yeah?” Ray belligerently snapped back. “Then, you must be from another planet, coz it’s a way of life among our people, bub!”	“But that is why I am here,” the stranger insisted. “I bring the knowledge to end misery and suffering and…”	“…and you’re beginning to sound like one of them-there preacher men. Did you not see the sign on the door?”	The stranger turned to Dinky for a sign of affirmation - that came in the mimicking gesture of Dinky pointing an index finger at the front door. 	Curious as to Ray’s double-negative question, the stranger glided over to the door like a skater on ice, smooth and without modulation, to read the small notice pinned above the door knocker.	“I see a written scroll in a script unlike any other I have witnessed since the advent of hieroglyphics,” the stranger pointed out. “What is this language?”	“It’s American, Ori,” Dinky’s clarification shouted out.	“It looks like sanskrit scribble,” the stranger critiqued.	“I’ve always said, my Ray has got doctors writing,” Alice explained. 	“I spend so much time sending emails and texts,” Ray clarified. “That my fingers have forgotten how to write cursively,” he sheepishly explained - embarrassed by his identified shortcoming.	“Translate, please.”	Joining the stranger at the door, Ray read the note.	“It says, No salesmen, No canvassers, and strictly No religion on threat of insult.”	“I am none of those. I am a messenger. An apostle of redemptive technology. I bring forth great news.”	“You keep sayin that, Mister. But you ain’t volunteering anything more than promises.”	“It is only for your leaders to hold the knowledge of power.”	“But knowledge in the wrong hands can corrupt,” Alice pointed out. “Plus, this is just one country society in a variety of social structures, that make up a nation, that belongs to a group of like-minded nations - that make up a global family of cultures, that we all call home.”	“Yeah, that’s right, Hun. We’re just one big global village of similar ilk,” Ray added. “So, if you need to pass on this groundbreaking knowledge, then it must be shared with all the world’s leaders. Not just one. That’d be dangerous.”	“You have more than one leader?” The stranger obliviously asked.	“Heck, Bub. What rock have you climbed out from under? Every country has a leader.” 	“But there must only be one supreme leader,” the stranger argued. “It is what our system needs to work perfectly.”	“Then, it is a flawed system, Mister,” Alice’s evaluation dented the stranger’s enthusiasm.	“Yeah,” added Ray. “And if it’s flawed, no-one will be interested in listening to you. But you know who will? All those trees out there in the woods,” he chuckled - like a dismissive country hick laughing at his own joke. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got things to do, so…”	Attempting to guide the stranger to the front door, the mention of trees that listen, tweaked his interest.	“Trees? But are they not just mere inanimate limbs of the Earth? How do they communicate?”	Like a lightbulb suddenly switching on inside Dinky’s head, a trigger word compelled him to speak out.	“My teacher at school, Mrs. Updike, says trees are living beings and that they listen all the time for pollution to eat. She says without trees, we would choke, because we’d have no air to breathe, and that trees have been here long before us. Mrs. Uptight says….” “James…” Alice’s displeasure at any form of bullying, strictly corrected him.	“Mom, that’s what everyone calls her – including Principal Jones.”	“I find that hard to believe but go on.”	“My teacher… okay?”	“That’s fine.”	“…Says that trees and plants like it when we talk to them. It stim-lates em’ into growth, is what she says.”	“Fascinating,” the stranger pondered. “If trees are the pre-dawn of humankind, then they must hold a wealth of knowledge.”	Gliding out onto the front porch, the stranger bid the family farewell.	“It appears that I have taken up too much of your time already. I came in peace. I now leave in peace. Farewell, Ray and Alice, and small human that is known as Dinky on account of my size.”	Heading into a clump of local trees, the stranger illuminated an area with a bright beam of light hovering above his position.	“Is he comin’ back, Dad?”	“No, I reckon he’ll be busy out there for a while, son. Then, who knows. Peculiar fella. Seems a little lost in life. Poor guy.”	“Right,” exclaimed Alice. “Ray, did you get a pumpkin?”	“On the porch, Alice.”	“Well, you best get to carving it, then, while I get Dinky here into his costume.”	“Yeah? What are you gonna be this year, son?”	“Buzz Lightyear. To infinity and beyond!”	Stepping back into their house, Ray shut the door behind them, and had only taken a few steps, when the door knocker announced another visitor. Thinking it was the stranger returning, Dinky rushed to open the door, only to be disappointed by the sight of his school friend, Joey, standing at the door dressed as Batman.	“Trick or treat,” Joey recited. “Better get your costume on, Dinky. Don’t want the candy to be all gone. The old folks’ll be handing out pennies, and you can’t eat pennies.”	For a reflective moment, Dinky looked over to the woods, where a strange light hovered from tree to tree. He could just make out a voice repeating the same sentence to every tree that the light stopped at.	“Greetings,” it repeated. “We come in peace. Take me to your leader.”	Inviting Joey and his parents in, Dinky shut the door and rushed upstairs to put on his costume.	Later that evening – when candy collecting had turned into whimpers of sickly stomachs trying to digest the collective gorge of sugared delights, a light emerged from the woods illuminating the stranger gliding below it. As soon as he cleared the trees, he lifted his right arm and began speaking into it.	“This is Five Magger Orit to Mothership One. Do you read?”	“Report, Orit,” was the reply travelling through the airwaves.	“My initial efforts to find and communicate with any leadership on this planet,” the stranger continued. “Have failed to identify any office of singular leadership. This world is fragmented into insulated primitive conclaves of idealistic governance and is not ready to receive our gift of Utopian bliss. The only valuable information able to be gathered, has been from wooden appendages that bind this planet’s atmosphere and surface together. However, they possess no form of leadership, nor are they willing to bend in their responsibilities to the planet. It is my opinion that we postpone project Earth for one thousand more revolutions of this planet’s trajectory around its nearest star. Perhaps then, they will be ready to listen to what we have on offer.”	“Affirmative, Orit,” announced the voice. “We agree with your assessment and will consider your request. We now need you to proceed to Proxima Centauri b in the Alpha Centauri binary system, where there is a single-led society claiming to be all-knowing and all-forgiving.”	“That sounds like trouble,” the stranger’s concern beamed to the upper atmosphere.	“Affirmative. You need to investigate if that all-knowing claim has not fallen into the wrong hands, because…”	“…Knowledge in the wrong hands can corrupt,” the stranger unthinkingly quoted.	“Precisely, Orit. You are very wise.”	Remembering where he had heard that snippet of logic earlier, the stranger looked toward the quiet house where the small human and his family now lay sleeping. With a tinge of remorse, he pressed a button on his sleeve to activate his extraction from the planet.	“Goodbye, Dinky on account of my size.”	 He felt an odd but familiar connection to the boy and his family, and for one blink of a parsec, he wondered if a one-thousand revolution wait was a bit over-exaggerated. However, before he could process that thought, a bright beam of light flashed from the sky and transported him off the planet, leaving a sleepy hollow in backwoods Tennessee to carry on evolving, and a small boy - soon to become a small grown man, to dream about Hooters.	“James Alabaster Murray! There’ll be no dreaming of hooters in this household.”	“Okay, Mom…”	“Now, go back to sleep!”	“Affirmative!”  
","August 07, 2023 05:22","[[{'Amanda Lieser': 'Hi Chris,\nHave you ever seen that kids cartoon film, Mars Needs Moms? This story made me think of it since we get to enter on a kitchen scene. I especially like that Dinky’s instinct is to point the alien to his mother-the leader in so many homes. I loved the debate with this story and the desperate need to make sense of the unexplainable visitor. It was a great take on the prompt and the overall idea of aliens. Nice work!!', 'time': '23:53 Aug 24, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': ""Amanda,\nI've not seen the movie but have since looked it up and will definitely watch it. \nWomen always rule the roost and mothers normally control it. A leader for me, is someone people look up to and make you proud to follow their example. \nIf aliens ever come to Earth, they should seek out the less corruptible to make first contact. A mother would be a wise ambassadorial choice.\nThanks for reading and commenting."", 'time': '05:14 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': ""Amanda,\nI've not seen the movie but have since looked it up and will definitely watch it. \nWomen always rule the roost and mothers normally control it. A leader for me, is someone people look up to and make you proud to follow their example. \nIf aliens ever come to Earth, they should seek out the less corruptible to make first contact. A mother would be a wise ambassadorial choice.\nThanks for reading and commenting."", 'time': '05:14 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Arthur McNamee': 'Great story and I can see it going down like that. The satire used in this story was not lost either. Maybe in a thousand cycles Earth will be ready for the great news. Thanks for the opportunity to read this story.', 'time': '21:56 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Arthur,\nThanks or your great feedback.\nGlad you recognised the satire.', 'time': '00:14 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Arthur,\nThanks or your great feedback.\nGlad you recognised the satire.', 'time': '00:14 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Fernando César': 'Ah! I was expecting some more iteration between Ori and all the people in Halloween customs: “That looks like my cousin, from four parseps”, or “yes, I’m the Big Giant Head, supreme leader”.\nFunny story!', 'time': '20:56 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Fernando.\nPerhaps, Ori needed to say, ""Take me to your heart"" and looked to winning the people over before wanting to take it straight to the top. I\'m sure the trees showed him the way.\nSo happy to have made you laugh.', 'time': '00:19 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Fernando.\nPerhaps, Ori needed to say, ""Take me to your heart"" and looked to winning the people over before wanting to take it straight to the top. I\'m sure the trees showed him the way.\nSo happy to have made you laugh.', 'time': '00:19 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': ""Dude! This tale is as funny as it gets, with a lot of relevant truths scattered throughout. I especially liked when the father explained Dinky's mental processes. That could really be a great way to explain a lot of human behavior. Great, great stuff, my friend.\n\nThe tree bit was also funny and telling. The most important life on earth, and we tend to dismiss it in favor of Hooters and Halloween. LOL\n\nAnother amazing tale from Chris Campbell. You have a gift, my friend, and it comes through strongly in this amazing tale.\n\nCheers!"", 'time': '12:58 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Delbert.\nI did put a few subliminal messages in there. Well spotted.\nThank you for taking the time to read my story, mate.', 'time': '14:32 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Delbert.\nI did put a few subliminal messages in there. Well spotted.\nThank you for taking the time to read my story, mate.', 'time': '14:32 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Soleil Tron': 'Chris, I loved this story so much! Fantastic job.', 'time': '17:15 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Soleil.\nSo glad you liked it.', 'time': '01:00 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Soleil.\nSo glad you liked it.', 'time': '01:00 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Marty B': ""He should have followed Dinky's advice and spoke to the trees- they are the wise old ones, we just have a hard time 'listening'.\n\nThis sounds like how many of our political leaders think! \n'Everything just gets thrown into whatever bucket he wants to fill. He then interprets it with the minimum of experience and with hardly any knowledge to make any real sense out of it.”"", 'time': '05:33 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Marty,\nThanks for getting that little subliminal message.\nSo glad you liked it.', 'time': '12:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Marty,\nThanks for getting that little subliminal message.\nSo glad you liked it.', 'time': '12:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Kelsey H': ""This was a very fun read, love the idea of an alien turning up to an average family and trying to explain his mission to them, while being misunderstood and dismissed. Lots of great dialogue, I liked all Dinky's interactions with Orit, and also how he kept spilling dirt on his dad!"", 'time': '09:37 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Kelsey.\nOut of the mouth of babes, hey?\nThanks for the great feedback.', 'time': '14:34 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Kelsey.\nOut of the mouth of babes, hey?\nThanks for the great feedback.', 'time': '14:34 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Russell Mickler': 'Hey there, Chris!\n\nWOW this kid’s got a mouth on them! Actually, most kids I know these days all have a mouth on them.\n\nThis does sound a little SNL :) egg-shaped head, cobalt cape …\n\nLoved the naming convention on the alien; the distance, solar winds comment was funny; the tech that ends all poverty, hunger, and war - great; socialist, great; female cook, cringeworthy. The ending is fun and horrifically accurate - humans don’t deserve utopian bliss and we’d probably kill each other if we had it anyway. A fun read, Chris!\n\nR', 'time': '15:49 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': ""Russell,\n\nThanks for the great feedback.\n\nI agree that it does sound a bit SNL with maybe a smidgen of Monty Python added.\nThe cringeworthy comment from the alien hints at a hierarchical structured society on his home planet - possibly teetering on the edge of misogyny. Or perhaps he's just a juvenile himself projecting his own household's family structure on the humans.  His mother cooks and his father heads the family, so, to him, all women are cooks and all men are leaders. Either way, he seems to be learning on the job.\n\nSo glad you like..."", 'time': '03:02 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': ""Russell,\n\nThanks for the great feedback.\n\nI agree that it does sound a bit SNL with maybe a smidgen of Monty Python added.\nThe cringeworthy comment from the alien hints at a hierarchical structured society on his home planet - possibly teetering on the edge of misogyny. Or perhaps he's just a juvenile himself projecting his own household's family structure on the humans.  His mother cooks and his father heads the family, so, to him, all women are cooks and all men are leaders. Either way, he seems to be learning on the job.\n\nSo glad you like..."", 'time': '03:02 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': 'Funny and poignant. You have to wonder if more advanced life has contacted us and we blew it off. I liked Dinky as the character most willing to be open minded to the visitors.', 'time': '20:51 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': ""Thank you, Ellen.\nI often wonder what that first contact will be like and I think Halloween would be a good time to show themselves.  They'd fit in right away."", 'time': '03:24 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': ""Thank you, Ellen.\nI often wonder what that first contact will be like and I think Halloween would be a good time to show themselves.  They'd fit in right away."", 'time': '03:24 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ty Warmbrodt': ""You have a wonderful imagination, Chris. I'm glad you share it with us."", 'time': '19:22 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Ty,\nThanks for the great comment. All these years as an only child must have helped.🤣', 'time': '03:25 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Ty,\nThanks for the great comment. All these years as an only child must have helped.🤣', 'time': '03:25 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Ha! Amusing, and it seems the alien even learned a lesson, so it still worked as a cultural exchange. I suppose if we do have anything to offer the galactic community, it\'s an abundance of examples of groups of idealists going too far and ruining things for everyone. So yeah, certainly quite a bit of danger in supreme rulers. \n\n""Then, you must be from another planet"" :) \n\nThanks for sharing!', 'time': '22:34 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': ""Thanks, Michal.\n\nA slight political undertone, but sincerely meant to be all tongue-in-cheek.\n\nI can't help but wonder though, if the alien's mission is his first in the real universe. Perhaps, a juvenile ambassadorial apprentice sent to look for a left-handed hammer, with a written script of the standard alien greeting - as his introduction to the human race.\n\nHe may have come in peace, but I'm sure leaders of government would soon intern him to extract the technology one way or another.\n\nMy advice would be to just keep talking to the trees..."", 'time': '00:12 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': ""Thanks, Michal.\n\nA slight political undertone, but sincerely meant to be all tongue-in-cheek.\n\nI can't help but wonder though, if the alien's mission is his first in the real universe. Perhaps, a juvenile ambassadorial apprentice sent to look for a left-handed hammer, with a written script of the standard alien greeting - as his introduction to the human race.\n\nHe may have come in peace, but I'm sure leaders of government would soon intern him to extract the technology one way or another.\n\nMy advice would be to just keep talking to the trees..."", 'time': '00:12 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Anna W': 'Another hilarious story, Chris! I loved the light hearted humor of Dinky. Thanks for sharing this one!', 'time': '15:19 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Anna,\nThanks for the great feedback. Glad to have made you chuckle.', 'time': '03:26 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Anna,\nThanks for the great feedback. Glad to have made you chuckle.', 'time': '03:26 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'The light hearted touch this subject needed. Would like some of what he was offering,though🤔👽👑.', 'time': '13:42 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Mary.\nYes, me too.', 'time': '14:52 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'Thanks, Mary.\nYes, me too.', 'time': '14:52 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kevin Logue': ""Mum it's for you - just set the comedic time for all that followed.\n\nThis was so good Chris, so many laughs. I was wondering why the Dad was so calm on seeing the alien, then you close with the -did you get a pumpkin? Brilliantly done. Honestly thought you could have ended it there it was such a aha moment. But the meta closing with the mother commenting on the narration was a chuckle. \n\nA lot to praise in this, dialogue as always top notch, the miscommunication-hilarious, the social/political debate genuinely interesting. \n\nIf I can a tiny ..."", 'time': '09:04 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': ""Kevin,\nThanks for the great feedback.\n\nI got this piece in early to get some valuable feedback, so I could re-work it during the next several days.\n\nYes, Ray's calmness was due to the fact it was Halloween, so the costumed visitor didn't seem out of place to him.\n\nThanks for the grammatical suggestion. I've now re-worded the beginning.\n\nSo glad that it tickled your funny bone."", 'time': '14:56 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'Kevin Logue': ""Getting something early...that sounds amazing, maybe someday I'll be able to experience it hahaha.\n\nThat's reads well to me, glad I could help."", 'time': '15:06 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'Chris Campbell': 'It just flowed out of me. I normally submit around Thursdays.\nI had thought about following a different prompt that would have been a lot darker, but I opted for humour instead with this prompt.', 'time': '00:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Kevin Logue': ""I hear that, same thing happen me with the road tripping prompt. Had these sci-fi pirates entering a intergalactic gas station but it was empty and abandoned cause of an alien attack, but it just wouldn't take. \n \nThen took a completely different route and went silly and for the first time wrote a funny story but it just flowed, I had a lot of fun with it in stead of trying to me overly complicated. Humour for the win, ha!"", 'time': '12:54 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': ""Kevin,\nThanks for the great feedback.\n\nI got this piece in early to get some valuable feedback, so I could re-work it during the next several days.\n\nYes, Ray's calmness was due to the fact it was Halloween, so the costumed visitor didn't seem out of place to him.\n\nThanks for the grammatical suggestion. I've now re-worded the beginning.\n\nSo glad that it tickled your funny bone."", 'time': '14:56 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin Logue': ""Getting something early...that sounds amazing, maybe someday I'll be able to experience it hahaha.\n\nThat's reads well to me, glad I could help."", 'time': '15:06 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'Chris Campbell': 'It just flowed out of me. I normally submit around Thursdays.\nI had thought about following a different prompt that would have been a lot darker, but I opted for humour instead with this prompt.', 'time': '00:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Kevin Logue': ""I hear that, same thing happen me with the road tripping prompt. Had these sci-fi pirates entering a intergalactic gas station but it was empty and abandoned cause of an alien attack, but it just wouldn't take. \n \nThen took a completely different route and went silly and for the first time wrote a funny story but it just flowed, I had a lot of fun with it in stead of trying to me overly complicated. Humour for the win, ha!"", 'time': '12:54 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Kevin Logue': ""Getting something early...that sounds amazing, maybe someday I'll be able to experience it hahaha.\n\nThat's reads well to me, glad I could help."", 'time': '15:06 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Chris Campbell': 'It just flowed out of me. I normally submit around Thursdays.\nI had thought about following a different prompt that would have been a lot darker, but I opted for humour instead with this prompt.', 'time': '00:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Kevin Logue': ""I hear that, same thing happen me with the road tripping prompt. Had these sci-fi pirates entering a intergalactic gas station but it was empty and abandoned cause of an alien attack, but it just wouldn't take. \n \nThen took a completely different route and went silly and for the first time wrote a funny story but it just flowed, I had a lot of fun with it in stead of trying to me overly complicated. Humour for the win, ha!"", 'time': '12:54 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Chris Campbell': 'It just flowed out of me. I normally submit around Thursdays.\nI had thought about following a different prompt that would have been a lot darker, but I opted for humour instead with this prompt.', 'time': '00:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Kevin Logue': ""I hear that, same thing happen me with the road tripping prompt. Had these sci-fi pirates entering a intergalactic gas station but it was empty and abandoned cause of an alien attack, but it just wouldn't take. \n \nThen took a completely different route and went silly and for the first time wrote a funny story but it just flowed, I had a lot of fun with it in stead of trying to me overly complicated. Humour for the win, ha!"", 'time': '12:54 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Kevin Logue': ""I hear that, same thing happen me with the road tripping prompt. Had these sci-fi pirates entering a intergalactic gas station but it was empty and abandoned cause of an alien attack, but it just wouldn't take. \n \nThen took a completely different route and went silly and for the first time wrote a funny story but it just flowed, I had a lot of fun with it in stead of trying to me overly complicated. Humour for the win, ha!"", 'time': '12:54 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,lfzhrn,Breadsticks,Kevin B,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/lfzhrn/,/short-story/lfzhrn/,Science Fiction,0,"['Funny', 'Fantasy', 'American']",31 likes,"
The aliens were not going to leave the Olive Garden.
 
Originally, they had no plans to try out any of the fast casual restaurants the world had to offer. They were on a very strict timeline--
 

Arrive on Earth.
Bring together mankind under an umbrella of peace and kindness.
Meet Paul Simon.
Go home.

 
Peace and kindness didn’t take very long, but Paul Simon was a hard man to pin down.
 
When the aliens finally got him on the phone, he cautiously agreed to meet with them provided they did not force him to sing “Call Me Al.” Of course, this was every alien’s favorite song, and they were desperate to hear him sing it live, but they played it cool, and said “Oh yeah, no, it’s fine, you don’t have to sing ‘Call Me Al.’ You can sing something else instead. ‘Sound of Silence’ is great. You can sing that.’”
 
The aliens did not want to hear “Sound of Silence.” It creeped them out, and made them think about the vastness of space. Still, hanging out with Paul Simon was part of the mission whether or not he agreed to sing the song of their choice.
 
After some back-and-forth about where they should meet, Paul suggested a place near his house that he liked going to. A little Italian place named Olive’s Garden.
 
The aliens said “Uh huh, uh huh, we got it,” but they were only half-paying attention, because one of them had just discovered what a walnut was, and they were fascinated by it. When they realized they couldn’t remember the exact name of the restaurant where they were supposed to meet Paul Simon, they began to panic. They didn’t want to have to call back one of the Universe’s greatest songwriters and tell him that they weren’t paying attention to them, even though, had he been singing “You Can Call Me Al,” they definitely would have been paying attention.
 
That was when the alien with the biggest ears said--
 
“Wait! I think he mentioned something about a garden? And Italy? An Italian garden?”
 
The aliens knew from their calculations that Google would ultimately create an AI system that would overrun humanity and go to war with every other lifeform in the galaxy, but that was a year or two off, so they weren’t worried about it right then and there. They used it to look up Italian gardens in the area and “Olive Garden” popped up, but, truthfully, even if they had remembered that it was “Olive’s Garden” chances are “Olive Garden” still would have popped up, because why would you name a restaurant “Olive’s Garden” and serve Italian food unless you wanted people to confuse you with the Olive Garden?
 
(Sidenote: After this story was completed, we did a little digging, and it turns out that the owner of “Olive’s Garden” does want people to confuse their establishment with the Olive Garden, because it means people go to their restaurant expecting the Olive Garden, and when they get there, they think “Well, we’re already here” and that’s how Olive’s Garden stays in business.)
 
When the aliens got to the Olive Garden, they didn’t see Paul Simon, but they decided to sit anyway since most of their party had already arrived. The hostess was a polite nineteen-year-old who was attending the local community college on her way to being a marine biologist. She thought one of the aliens might be a manatee, but she couldn’t be sure, because she hadn’t finished her studies yet.
 
Once the aliens were seated, the waiter--a forty-three year-old named Andy, who was a kindergarten teacher that needed to make extra money on the side--came by and offered to take their drink orders. On their home planet, the aliens drank a mixture that was half mercury and half bromine. On Earth, they’d order Diet Coke. No matter how strange it was to see an alien enjoying a beverage, if the beverage was Diet Coke, people seemed to be less bothered by the visual. One alien without a mouth would simply order the Diet Coke and then hold it in alternating hands without ever drinking it. Even this would seem to placate humans who were still getting used to the aliens.
 
“We’ll have Diet Cokes,” Joseph, the lead alien, said to Andy, the waiter.
 
(Sidenote:  His name was not really Joseph, but we don’t have the proper alphabet available to us to spell the alien’s real name, so we’re going with Joseph, because Joseph is a nice name. Our uncle was named Joseph, and he would buy us shaved ice in the summer.)
 
After the Diet Cokes were brought over and distributed amongst the extraterrestrials, Joseph asked what they would like to eat. By this time, the aliens thought perhaps Paul Simon had gotten tied up writing a new song, and maybe that new song would be just as good as “You Can Call Me Al” (although it didn’t seem likely) and maybe they should just order without him since they were already here and Andy seemed so nice and everybody seemed so happy and the hostess had said something about being family (even though it was very unlikely that she’d be related to them) and so they asked what the best dish on the menu was since they had watched a human movie where a character had done that.
 
“Um,” said Andy, “People usually start with the salad and breadsticks and then--”
 
“How many breadsticks come with a breadstick order,” asked Joseph, who wanted to make sure there would be enough breadsticks for everyone, even though one of them didn’t have a mouth and another one was just a ball of gas that floated around in front of the aliens.
 
(Sidenote: Her name is also unspellable, but we’ll call her Betty.)
 
“You can have as many as you want,” said Andy, “They’re unlimited.”
 
The aliens knew all about time and space being unlimited, but they didn’t realize the rules of infinity could also apply to food.
 
“What sort of mythical place is this,” asked Joseph, as Betty floated behind him making everything smell faintly of sulfur.
 
Andy began bringing by breadsticks, and as soon as the aliens tried them, they became ravenous. While human food had never really appealed to them, this food did not seem all that human. It was both unique and bland. Over-seasoned and lightly touched by spices. Eating it felt almost like attempting to solve one of the Universe’s greatest puzzles. Compared to breadsticks, world peace was like a game of Candyland.
 
(Sidenote:  Aliens don’t play Candyland and they don’t know what candy is, but we wanted to make sure you understood just how in awe of breadsticks they were.)
 
Their salads went mostly untouched, although Betty seemed to enjoy the giant olives. She’d plop one into the space where her mouth would be and the olives would fall down to the floor, but she’d be delighted all the same.
 
When Andy asked if they’d like to try any entrees, they laughed at his folly.
 
Entrees?
 
You mean the things that aren’t unlimited?
 
Why bother with any of that?
 
Why, if someone offers you an endless supply of milk, you’d be foolish to tell him to stop and go get you orange juice, wouldn’t you?
 
The aliens were eating the breadsticks at a startling rate. Soon, the kitchen was nearly out, and everyone else in the restaurant was wondering why they were getting fewer and fewer breadsticks with each order. The management had decided that it was important to satisfy the aliens since they were from another galaxy and also because they had made everybody stop fighting and get along and return their library books and share their Wifi passwords and littering was a thing of the past and nobody took videos during concerts anymore.
 
Unfortunately, the kitchen did run out of the breadsticks and the aliens were still eating. Waiters were dispatched to other Olive Gardens to get breadsticks from them. When the managers at those other Olive Gardens heard there were aliens enjoying their breadsticks, they saw it as their duty to continue to feed the visitors until they were no longer hungry.
 
(Sidenote: An alien’s stomach is one big loop. The food goes around and around like it’s on a hamster's wheel until it disintegrates, but the alien is never really “full.”)
 
Soon, all the Olive Gardens in the state had closed their doors to the public. No one was allowed in, as they had become merely breadstick factories. The breadsticks were made and then delivered to the Olive Garden where the aliens sat, ate, and ordered more.
 
When the other restaurants began running low, there was some discussion of apologizing profusely to the aliens, and accepting defeat. That suggestion was quickly shot down by the corporate marketing team.
 
“You cannot say we’re out of breadsticks,” said Timothy Frank, the Head of Olive Garden Marketing, “Unlimited breadsticks are the cornerstone of our brand. If the aliens want more, you have to give them more. You can’t say we’re out. It could collapse the brand.”
 
Similar to when the President invokes the Defense Production Act, the Olive Garden has the option to invoke the Eternal Breadstick Act. It’s a rule without the Olive Garden’s Constitution that when there is a breadstick shortage, several dormant factories can be activated, staffed, and operated 24/7 until the shortage is no longer an issue. This has only happened once in the history of Olive Gardens, and it was on Father’s Day of 2009.
 
The aliens had no idea they were causing such a fuss, and had they known, they would have gladly stopped eating breadsticks and ordered a chicken piccata instead. It was only because nobody made them aware of the disturbance that they kept on eating even as every other customer in the restaurant vacated the premises.
 
News reports began circulating about the Great Breadstick Battle even though it wasn’t quite a battle, and even though it was irresponsible to frame it as such since a battle with the aliens would have ended quickly, and humanity would not have been on the winning side. Then again, that’s the media for you. They threw up graphics on their newscasts of breadsticks being shot at by laser guns held by little green men, and people began to wonder if Olive Garden would go bankrupt due to the aliens who had simply come to end all war and meet Paul Simon.
 
Had it not been for a small miracle, the aliens might have indeed taken Olive Garden to its very limit. Luckily, Betty had, at that point, dropped so many breadsticks on the ground that Joseph saw what a mess was being made, and, not wanting Betty to feel badly about her inability to hold matter inside herself, clapped his tentacles together and announced that dinner was over, and they all needed to head back to the ship.
 
Before he paid the bill (and tipped handsomely), he offered to help clean up the mess Betty had made, but Andy was so thrilled the aliens were leaving, he put on a show of not caring one bit about the pile of food on the floor, even though it was going to take an hour or two to clean it, and it had already been seventy-three hours since the aliens first entered the Olive Garden.
 
Once they had exited the building, the staff all walked outside to see a glowing orb ascend above the shopping plaza they were located in, and a series of lights blinked on and off across the center of the orb. This was a farewell from the aliens, and the Olive Garden staff were touched that they were being acknowledged in this way. It made them understand that the true meaning of connection is--
 
“Excuse me?”
 
A small man with a guitar was standing in front of the staff who hadn’t noticed him, because they were all looking up at the sky.
 
“I was supposed to meet some friends at this place down the road, but I think they got the name wrong,” the man said, “Do you have a table for one? I’m starving and could really go for some breadsticks.”
 
By then, the aliens were off to another strange world, spinning in infinity.
","August 04, 2023 23:42","[[{'Anna W': 'I think my family and I probably contributed to the great breadstick shortage on Father’s Day of 2009. I’m glad to see that Olive Garden recovered, due to their excellent preparation and planning. It’s why they are the people’s restaurant. \n\nFunny story, really enjoyed it Kevin!', 'time': '15:32 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Anna.', 'time': '16:16 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Anna.', 'time': '16:16 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Lila U': 'This is wickedly clever, I love how you paint the picture.', 'time': '19:26 Sep 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you very much.', 'time': '17:02 Sep 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you very much.', 'time': '17:02 Sep 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mason Burnett': 'This story is amazing. Similar to a later story, Napoleon, it has confounded, astonished, bamboozled, and tricked me. Thank you.', 'time': '15:50 Sep 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Mason.', 'time': '17:00 Sep 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Mason.', 'time': '17:00 Sep 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Chris Miller': 'Funny and smart. Great story, Kevin.\n\nGood use of some of the lyrics, but you know their favourite bit is the bass solo. \n\nThanks for sharing.', 'time': '16:02 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': ""Thanks so much, Chris. I'm a forever Graceland fan."", 'time': '16:07 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': ""Thanks so much, Chris. I'm a forever Graceland fan."", 'time': '16:07 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'A very attention grabbing first line and the premise of taking something as innocuous as breadsticks and having it spiral out into an economic almost-catastrophe is amusing :) All due to misunderstandings, just like the location of the meeting. But misunderstandings are a perfect fit when cultures collide. \n\nThanks for sharing!', 'time': '20:32 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you, Michal!  I had a lot of fun writing it. I tried to tap into Vonnegut as much as possible.', 'time': '22:22 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you, Michal!  I had a lot of fun writing it. I tried to tap into Vonnegut as much as possible.', 'time': '22:22 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Deidra Whitt Lovegren': 'Paul Simon, of course.\nGlad to see you at the top of your absurdist best 👽👾🛸👽👾🛸', 'time': '16:21 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': ""It's where I'm my happiest ha"", 'time': '16:32 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': ""It's where I'm my happiest ha"", 'time': '16:32 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Marty B': ""Olive Garden breadsticks are an exception to the laws of quantum mechanics for sure-they are two opposite things- simultaneously! \n'It was both unique and bland. Over-seasoned and lightly touched by spices.'\n\nI also might have been involved in the Fathers Day breadstick shortage of 2009, but as a sidenote, I did eat several salads as well- \nThanks!"", 'time': '05:56 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': ""I'm sure I've contributed to a few shortages as well!"", 'time': '16:19 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Kevin B': ""I'm sure I've contributed to a few shortages as well!"", 'time': '16:19 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': ""Somehow the juxtaposition of space aliens and Olive Garden breadsticks was just perfect. I enjoyed this. I especially liked the Olive Garden's head of marketing insisting that there would be no admission of error in the brand messaging."", 'time': '17:13 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Ellen!', 'time': '17:29 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Ellen!', 'time': '17:29 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Amanda Signori': 'Kevin, that was so fun!! What a great story !', 'time': '10:17 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Amanda!', 'time': '17:01 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thank you so much, Amanda!', 'time': '17:01 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Katy B': 'Two of my greatest loves: breadsticks and Paul Simon. Thanks for the great story, Kevin!', 'time': '23:51 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Glad you enjoyed it!', 'time': '23:55 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Glad you enjoyed it!', 'time': '23:55 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': ""Humorous, good ideas. Many years ago Paul Simon gave a free concert in Central Park. I could hear him, but it was so crowded we couldn't get close enough to see him. Excellent story, Kevin."", 'time': '22:30 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Thanks very much, Joe.', 'time': '00:12 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Thanks very much, Joe.', 'time': '00:12 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'Kevin, now this was funny. Nice spin to the prompt. Well done! You can call me Al is stuck in my head now. LOL  LF6', 'time': '02:24 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Glad you liked it, Lily.', 'time': '16:32 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': 'Except You Can Call Me Al going through my head all night. LOL. JK. LF6', 'time': '17:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Glad you liked it, Lily.', 'time': '16:32 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Except You Can Call Me Al going through my head all night. LOL. JK. LF6', 'time': '17:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Except You Can Call Me Al going through my head all night. LOL. JK. LF6', 'time': '17:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Oh, bread sticks! This one put a stitch in my side.🤣😍😂', 'time': '20:30 Aug 05, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kevin B': 'Glad you enjoyed it, Mary.', 'time': '05:22 Aug 06, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin B': 'Glad you enjoyed it, Mary.', 'time': '05:22 Aug 06, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Amanda Lieser': 'Hi Kevin!\nWhat a hilarious take on aliens. And on Olive Garden. Don’t we all go for the unlimited bread Dr idk? So good! I loved these aliens and found their wit utterly delightful. All of your side notes were thoroughly enjoyed. My favorite line was: On Earth, they’d order Diet Coke. My mother has always loved Diet Coke so that detail made me smile extra for her. This piece was woven with a fantastic funny bone-which can be a challenge in writing. Nice work!!', 'time': '14:48 Sep 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ken Cartisano': 'I loved this.\n\nThis story is hilarious.  Starting right from the opening sentence, which is brilliant, all the way to, ""I\'m starving and could really use some breadsticks."" As if Paul Simon could be so unpoetic. Now, if he\'d walked in, been given a table and said, ""Hey lookit here. I\'ve got breadsticks on the soles of my shoes."" That would be more believable. (To me, that is, if no one else.)\n\nThe great thing about this entertaining story is that you never mention the fact that extraterrestrials have officially arrived on earth. Your story p...', 'time': '05:08 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Oh, bread sticks! This one put a stitch in my side.🤣😍😂', 'time': '20:30 Aug 05, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,l59dmr,Fresh meat,James Larder,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/l59dmr/,/short-story/l59dmr/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Funny', 'Contemporary']",30 likes,"
‘Why don’t you go back to your own planet? Ya gangly E.T cunt!’The alien waved back at the heckler, to try and diffuse his apparent distain and demonstrate that no hard feelings were held, but this appeared to make things worse. The alien still had not worked out why it was that humans got offended by the alien wave. Would the alien stop waving though? No. It was important to keep up with the local custom, as a sign of respect. Also, there was no way of them speaking Earth languages, just as it was not feasible for humans to speak Krotonian.The ill wisher continued- ‘Comin’ over ‘ere, stealin’ our jobs! I ‘ate you!’The alien had a ballpark idea of what the disgruntled chap was saying, it was commonplace slur. The alien could have retorted, minus the language barrier and explained, rationally, that they were both in the same boat, so to speak. Downtrodden. After thoughts. Oppressed. Making them kindred spirits. Brothers in the quarrel against tyranny and comrades in the fight for justice. Alas, however, all the alien was able to do was nod. Again, this didn’t go down well at all.‘Ya scab!’ The human yelled, as he removed his shoe and threw it at the alien. The shoe was a size ten. Brown. It bounced off the alien’s shoulder. Given the size of the alien, the shoe was no bigger than a pack of cards, comparatively. The alien instinctively stooped to retrieve the errant footwear but this only served to anger the offended party further.‘Don’t you touch my property, ya filth bag scum!’ The man was hysterical.There was a general consensus amongst the humans that the aliens carried with them some kind of disease and that the mere act of contact would cause infection. Cross contamination. As a result, the humans kept their distance physically. The alien stood upright again and left the shoe in place.‘Everythin’ were perfect before you came ‘ere!’ The man continued ranting whilst the alien took leave. ‘Paradise! Like a postcard! Everyday were like heaven! You ruined it, ya purple freaks!’The man was still going as the alien turned the corner. This street was a known route for aliens, coming back and forth from the main factory, and was frequented by unemployed townsfolk on a daily basis, who had nothing better to do than shout at the Krotonians, blaming them for all their problems. Any perceived ill was now designated to the cosmic visitors- Cancer. Broken limbs. Alcoholism- All attributable to the aliens.The next street the alien wandered onto was even more lively than the one before. A pastor of some sort was stood on an upturned, wooden crate and was preaching to a small group. ‘And I tell you, if you renounce all worldly sins and accept the Lord God Jesus into your hearts and souls, there will be salvation. For this cesspool we are festering in today is nothing more than a purgatorial nightmare, whereby we have been sent to, for punishment, for the misdemeanours committed in our previous life. It was the Apps, my brothers and sisters and everyone in between- Created by Beelzebub himself. The pixels. No man, woman, child or beast could escape the Lord our God’s vengeful wrath for our slovenly purge of the senses. We must pay- We all must pay!’The pastor then noticed the alien skulking past and quickly turned his attention towards the extra terrestrial. ‘There’s one now! One of Satan’s henchmen! Sent to spy on the righteous! A messenger for the Devil. Orders from bellow to rock our boat of peace and tranquillity and tempt us with the sins of the mind! Well, not today, you demon child! Not on my watch- Begone with you, you salamander- The power of Christ compels you!’ The pastor took a glass of water out of a cardboard box and threw it over the alien’s face. The crowd cheered as the alien recoiled and the water went in it’s eye. The pastor was satisfied with the coverage he’d achieved but was reluctant to take full credit. ‘I am no perfect marksman, my friends, my hand was guided by the Lord! See how the holy water burns through the beast’s flesh that is not flesh. See how it writhes as it’s dowsed with the juice of God!’The alien picked up the pace and got to the far end of the street, out of reach of the mental priest, who’s hand was now being kissed by several of his constituents. His throwing hand. Sacred it was to them now. Possessed they perceived it to be, with some kind of absent, remote divinity.Despite the aliens being nine foot tall and as strong as Rhinos, the humans had no qualms over abusing them, for the threat of retaliation did not exist. The aliens were subservient pacifists. However, just in case one of the aliens lost the plot in a red mist fit of rage, the world government struck a deal with Kroton 14, stating that if so much as one strike was cast towards any human, all the Krotonians would be deported instantly, via the way they came aka teleportation, and their Earth visas would not be renewed. The leaders of Kroton 14 had also issued a stark warning to all its representatives on Earth and told them, in no uncertain terms, that any Krotonian found in breach of the strict government guidelines would be punished with one thousand years of solitary confinement, followed by a public execution. A messy one- Hung, drawn and quartered. Old school.‘Spare some change, please?’ A homeless woman asked, as the alien passed her house- An upturned barrel used originally for the transportation of clams. The aliens were not exposed to money and so never carried it. The homeless woman knew this but was likely on autopilot. The alien ignored her accordingly.The arrival of the aliens had been timed to coincide with the unveiling of gated communities on Earth. It had been common knowledge amongst the elite that the fuel would run out by 2050 and so, a twenty year plan to build the exclusive havens for the rich and the powerful and their bloodlines commenced. By the time the mass population realised what was happening, it was too late. By 2049, the Earth switched to renewable energy and all harvested power from wind, solar and wave automatically funnelled into the gated communities. Anyone outside the communities had to go back to basics. ‘We’ve left you plenty of wood.’ The leaders declared, as they sailed through the skies in blimps. ‘It’s character building. For you. Like a Robinson Crusoe adventure.’Humans were obviously furious about this shift in dynamic but they were powerless, annoyingly. ‘If you don’t like it, you can leave at any time.’ Was the company line, touted amongst the leaders, like a slogan. To coincide with this, Euthanasia kits were free and available from all drugstores. The aliens had brought with them the secret of life and death and so, many humans simply chose to commit suicide rather than suffer the increasingly harsh conditions, knowing that it really didn’t matter whether they lived for another hour or another century. Drowning babies at birth was common practice.The world government was more than happy for the aliens to take on the vast majority of planet Earth’s manual labour, meaning that the working class were mostly unemployed. It was no longer necessary to keep up the pretence that the majority of the human population were anything other than slaves. Now, however, they were worse than slaves, in a way, for they were useless. At least BA (Before aliens), there was a convenient veil of pretence- Illusion- Where everyone went about their lives, as if their made up jobs mattered. Roles such as sales executive, customer service representative, brand manager, Human resources, insurance etc were all commonplace. All absolutely pointless, of course, but all accepted pass times. But now that the lid was off Pandora’s box, it was impossible to be expected to get paid for anything that was not absolutely necessary for survival and nearly all these jobs had now been given to the aliens. Manufacturing. Food production. Maintenance- All alien roles. But here’s the kicker- All goods produced were ferried directly to the gated communities and so, anyone outside was left to essentially fend for themselves. Pets were not a thing anymore- All animals were eaten on sight. You’d kill and skin a cat soon as look at it, these days. Dogs were considered a rare treat. The plump ones like Pugs and French Bulldogs were eaten only on very special occasions and bread for this reason alone. Needless to say, the blame for the human’s dire predicament was placed almost exclusively on the aliens, for no government officials were left in the vicinity.The aliens were compensated for their valuable services by receiving basic accommodation and a modest allowance of tokens that could be exchanged for Earth goods like body lotion or magnets or deodorant- Whatever they wanted. In return, they were expected to work seven day weeks, twenty hour days. This sounds a lot to us humans but the aliens did not require sleep or water and they tele-imported their own food, which only needed to be eaten once monthly. What’s more, they needed to be constantly moving, like sharks, and so the more work they were given the better. Even if they were sat down, they would need to tap their foot or shake their hands, else they would cease up and lose circulation. After two minutes of inactivity, they would harden like a log. After five minutes, they would crystallise and after ten minutes, they would shatter into a million pieces. A risk that no Krotonians were willing to take.The alien finally reached it’s humble dwellings after navigating the gauntlet of terror that was the three streets walk from the factory to it’s house. It breathed a sigh of relief as the latch went on the front door and it took off it’s alien coat, which to us humans, could closely be described as plasma. The alien’s wife was sat on the sofa, wagging her finger. Not out of distain but in the interest of not perishing from stagnation. ‘You’re late.’ The alien’s wife said, as the alien slunk over to the couch. The alien sat beside it’s wife. ‘Urgh!!!’ The wife recoiled. ‘What’s that?!’‘Some crazy man threw Earth water on me.’ The alien explained. ‘Well get it away from me!’ The alien’s wife pushed the alien. ‘It’s all me, me, me with you innit?!’The alien patiently moved away from it’s wife. It may sound like the alien’s wife was a total bitch, from your perspective, cause you’ve only just met her, but she wasn’t always like this. On Kroton 14, she was the sweetest alien in their respective town. All the aliens were smitten with her, due to her kind disposition and youthful glow but being on Earth had sent the alien’s wife West and she one eighty’d into this battle axe you read before you now. The alien was prepared to stick it out though, as this living situation was only temporary and it was confident it’s wife would return to normal, once they were back on Kroton 14. If not, the alien would simply kill the wife, as was the local custom, given that divorce was prohibited but murder was perfectly fine. A simple procedure.All the aliens were told they would only need to stay on Earth for two hundred years, after which they could return to Kroton 14 and live the rest of their lives in comfort and harmony. The average lifespan of Krotonians was around 10,000 years, so 200 years was nowt to them, the equivalent of around three human years.The alien changed the subject. ‘What’ve you been up to?’ It asked it’s wife, as it dabbed it’s face with a tea towel.The alien’s wife scoffed. ‘What do you think?’The alien glanced at the telly. The hologram humans were sat in Central Perk. ‘Ah lovely.’ The alien said, with veined enthusiasm.‘Don’t patronise me.’ The alien’s wife replied, as it turned up the volume, presumably to drown out the sound of it’s husband's breathing. The alien’s wife was obsessed with the TV show ‘Friends’. Even though New York had long since sunk, the alien’s wife kept banging on about taking a trip there, saying it wanted to know what it would be like to be Rachel and insisting they go to Bloomingdales, where the alien's wife planned to re-enact a shopping spree, by hiring a boat and floating over the rough spot of the underwater department store. Sometimes, the alien’s wife made them do Ross and Rachel roleplay, in the bedroom, where the alien would have to pretend to be on an archaeological dinosaur dig but then uncover ‘Rachel’ (The alien’s wife) who had been buried under the soil for millennia, yet preserved. Shortly after the discovery, they would copulate. The alien went along with it, even though it had absolutely no interest in dinosaurs or ‘Friends’. Or sex for that matter. Happy wife, happy life- That was the moto amongst the Krotonian husbands and a code of honour it would take to the grave. Not that they had graves, for the aliens instantly spontaneously combusted upon death.The alien’s wife went into it’s daily tirade, like clockwork. The alien braced itself. ‘If we had a child, that would keep me occupied. Whilst you’re at work.’‘We’ve talked about this, sugar head- This is no world to bring a new life into.’‘Well God damn it, Dave- I’m bored out of my freakin mind!’ All aliens were given human names on arrival, to make the admin easier, as the Krotonian names were impossible to pronounce and could not be written in alphabetic letters.‘Why don’t you try one of the Earth hobbies?’The alien’s wife laughed hard. ‘What would you suggest? Archery? Badminton? Knitting?!’ The alien’s wife lit a cigarette. It now smoked twenty fags a day, despite the fact that the aliens did not have lungs and so, the smoke would simply seep out of their orifices, rendering the expensive habit completely futile. However, the alien’s wife had discovered that Jennifer Aniston was a smoker around the time that ‘Friends’ was being filmed and thus, endeavoured to do just the same. The Krotonians didn’t have hair in the traditional sense but nevertheless, the alien’s wife had managed to source a human wig and get it fashioned into a ‘Rachel’ hairstyle- Proper layered like she had in Seasons 1- 3. The alien’s wife chugged on it’s Marlboro light as it jeered it’s husband. ‘You’re pathetic, Dave.’The alien sighed and put on it’s coat again.‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ The alien’s wife asked.‘I have to go back to work. Overtime.’‘Oh great,’ the alien’s wife stubbed out it’s cigarette on a its own palm- The pain reminded it that it was still alive. ‘Go on then. Leave me again- Like you always do. You’re just like Ross. Coward.’‘Duty calls, Pumpkin tears.’ The alien said, as it skulked out of the front door again. The sound of ‘The Rembrandts- I’ll be there for you’ could be heard from the street, as the living room window was open. In truth, the alien did not have to go back to work again for another three and a half hours, but being outside was preferable to being stuck in the house with it’s spiteful wife.‘Kiss my arse, you thieving stardust prick!’A bone hit the alien in the head. By the looks of it, the bone had originally belonged to a human thigh. It didn’t hurt though. The bone. The aliens were very thick skulled. The bone had a similar effect that the impact of a matchstick would have on you or I. The alien picked up the bone and held it up to the assailant, asking if he wanted it back, to which the offender let out a blood curdling scream and sprinted in the opposite direction. ‘This place is fuckin weird.’ The alien thought to itself, as it dropped the bone and crossed the road.The alien made it’s way to it’s favourite hiding place- A sturdy tree nearby. The branches were robust enough to handle the weight of the alien (Around three quarters of a ton) and high enough for the alien to stay out of view of the angry mobs. It climbed the tree and there it stayed for the next three hours, until it was time to go to work again. ‘Only one hundred and ninety eight years left.’ The alien gave itself a pep talk, as it slid down the trunk. ‘Piece of piss.’The alien landed on the soft mulch at the base of the tree.‘Get ta fuck, ya tree lovin alien monkey spaz!’The Krotonian waved at the screaming loon, who promptly ran away. The alien set off to the factory. It would be early for work today but as they always say on Kroton 14- Better to be a day early than a second late. Not that time was a thing on Kroton 14. All demonstratives of Krotonian time throughout this short story have been created solely for ease of reader understanding.
","August 11, 2023 12:15","[[{'Frank Lester': 'An interesting thinly veiled metaphor to the current state of today\'s society. Very thoughtful. I probably missed most of the humor because ""Friends"" wasn\'t at the top of my viewing list. My son and daughter were avid fans. Overall, well done. Thanks for sharing it. Stay well.', 'time': '01:37 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'Thanks Frank :)', 'time': '07:39 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Frank Lester': ""You're welcome."", 'time': '00:14 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'Thanks Frank :)', 'time': '07:39 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Frank Lester': ""You're welcome."", 'time': '00:14 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Frank Lester': ""You're welcome."", 'time': '00:14 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': 'This was great fun. And I agree that the advent of gated communities bodes ill for humanity.', 'time': '23:45 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'Absolutely Ellen and a very real prospect, thanks for reading and your feedback', 'time': '07:38 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'Absolutely Ellen and a very real prospect, thanks for reading and your feedback', 'time': '07:38 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Nina Herbst': 'Clever story, James! I died at the Ross n Rachel Roleplay portion. 😂', 'time': '15:39 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'Hahaha cheers Nina :)', 'time': '18:13 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'Hahaha cheers Nina :)', 'time': '18:13 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Ann Ford': 'A very well written story aside from the unnecessary choice language.\nMay I ask; do you think Aliens exist and will be on earth in the future?', 'time': '12:04 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'I think they probably do yes and assume they are here already/ have been but perhaps not public', 'time': '13:04 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'I think they probably do yes and assume they are here already/ have been but perhaps not public', 'time': '13:04 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'F. Mint': ""Like others have already commented, the reference to racism is loud and clear, as is the environmental concern the story brings with it. It seems that aliens are really no better than earth people, with the gender politics in the alien household mirroring boring 1950s stereotypes of a bored wife who would like a baby to fill the time and an overworked husband who'd rather hide in a tree because she nags. Why the alien wife doesn't work as much as the husband isn't clear. On the whole an interesting and entertaining story. Just a comment on g..."", 'time': '20:59 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': ""Thanks for reading and your feedback! I'll check out the it's/ its situation. If I'm honest, I didn't know there was a difference so will look into it for future - Cheers :)"", 'time': '21:07 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': ""Thanks for reading and your feedback! I'll check out the it's/ its situation. If I'm honest, I didn't know there was a difference so will look into it for future - Cheers :)"", 'time': '21:07 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kristin Johnson': 'Has me wondering: are people really the same all over?', 'time': '18:16 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Anna W': 'What a great human story, told in human form. Always enjoy your stories, James! Thanks for sharing this one.', 'time': '16:13 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'Cheers Anna! Glad you enjoyed :)', 'time': '17:39 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'Cheers Anna! Glad you enjoyed :)', 'time': '17:39 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Ah, the brave new world.\n\nThanks for reading and liking a couple of my stories.\n\n🙏 Tha.ks for liking my donuts 🍩.', 'time': '15:43 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'No worries Mary :)', 'time': '15:49 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'No worries Mary :)', 'time': '15:49 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Martin Ross': 'Terrific story, full of heart but blunt about the runaway bigotry today. I get so angry at people who abuse and insult hardworking, decent immigrants. I worked for farmers for a long time, and migrant Latinos were the only folks they could depend on for reliable, diligent work. Some still realize that, but rural people mostly forgot it in 2016. When I helped teach English Second Language about 15 years ago, we posed for a group photo, and this nice dad turned to me and asked, “You sure you don’t mind getting your picture next to a Mexican?” ...', 'time': '14:17 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': ""Thanks Martin. That's shocking the comment that was made to you, very sad how people get hung up on external semantics rather than getting on with it and recognising our similarities. I'm actually researching someone atm from 20th century America- early to mid- So that's where the inspo came from for this story tbh, totally based on fact, of how folks behaved with regards to racial prejudice and segregation. It still happens all over to this day, of course, and would probably happen if aliens came as well. I don't know why this happens. I gu..."", 'time': '17:37 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Martin Ross': 'My take on this subject this week was kind of alien-style wish fulfillment, steeped in the bigotry and atrocities if the late 2010s and the lore of ancient Aztec “alien” visitations. Grammar and style will come, but your fiction has great “bones” already. Look forward to more.', 'time': '22:51 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'James Larder': 'Nice one Martin, will keep a look out for your stuff too 👍', 'time': '23:32 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': ""Thanks Martin. That's shocking the comment that was made to you, very sad how people get hung up on external semantics rather than getting on with it and recognising our similarities. I'm actually researching someone atm from 20th century America- early to mid- So that's where the inspo came from for this story tbh, totally based on fact, of how folks behaved with regards to racial prejudice and segregation. It still happens all over to this day, of course, and would probably happen if aliens came as well. I don't know why this happens. I gu..."", 'time': '17:37 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'My take on this subject this week was kind of alien-style wish fulfillment, steeped in the bigotry and atrocities if the late 2010s and the lore of ancient Aztec “alien” visitations. Grammar and style will come, but your fiction has great “bones” already. Look forward to more.', 'time': '22:51 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'James Larder': 'Nice one Martin, will keep a look out for your stuff too 👍', 'time': '23:32 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'My take on this subject this week was kind of alien-style wish fulfillment, steeped in the bigotry and atrocities if the late 2010s and the lore of ancient Aztec “alien” visitations. Grammar and style will come, but your fiction has great “bones” already. Look forward to more.', 'time': '22:51 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': 'Nice one Martin, will keep a look out for your stuff too 👍', 'time': '23:32 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': 'Nice one Martin, will keep a look out for your stuff too 👍', 'time': '23:32 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Scott Christenson': 'A fun metaphor. Foreigners that live in japan need to carry a “alien registration card”.', 'time': '14:03 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'James Larder': ""Cheers Scott, yeah was fun playing with the idea of 'othering' and nationalism but on a universal level! I guess its fitting to what would probably happen and who knows, perhaps will!"", 'time': '17:24 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'James Larder': ""Cheers Scott, yeah was fun playing with the idea of 'othering' and nationalism but on a universal level! I guess its fitting to what would probably happen and who knows, perhaps will!"", 'time': '17:24 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,otnt59,Collision,Amanda Vivilacqua,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/otnt59/,/short-story/otnt59/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Horror', 'Science Fiction']",28 likes,"
Dysus drove west, obeying the speed limit, and he trembled as he tried to light his seventh cigarette of the morning. His lips tingled around the filter. He smelled his own stale breath, captured in the palm he cupped around the lighter’s weak flame. He swallowed against the sticky thudding of the pulse that beat too high in his throat.
The cigarette caught the flame and smoldered. Dysus cracked his window, and the smoke that drifted up to burn his eyes was sucked away into the cold morning. He coasted under yet another green light. He’d encountered only green lights; insistent go, go, go signals from the universe.
Heavy slugs crept in his bowels. He sucked greedily at his cigarette, crossing his eyes to watch the ember glow. Flecks of ash dusted his lap.
Another green light. Dysus flicked a quick gaze to the dashboard clock, cursing his good luck, slowing down, willing the minutes to move.
He was running early for his appointment, so many factors having contributed to the unwelcome streamlining of his journey. He still hadn’t gotten used to the lack of traffic on the Rue - everyone took the new Magway now. The perimeter gates of his settlebloc had been open already, and he hadn’t needed to wait for security to buzz him through. The sobriety checkpoint had been unmanned. His trip had taken ten minutes fewer than he’d planned.
Another green light. The car’s rusted axle scraped a deep pothole in the middle of the intersection. Dysus thought about pulling over to kill time, but he knew if he stopped the car he would not be able to start it again.
He inhaled a huge, head-spinning drag of smoke and opened the window a bit more. His hand shook as he poked the tip of the cigarette out the window to tap its growing column of ash onto the street.
A nervous tremor rippled through him, and the stick fell from his nicotine-stained fingers. He fumbled instinctively, knocking his knuckles against the glass, and the drafting air pressure caught the cigarette and blew it back at him.
He didn’t see where it landed. The car was full of kindling: fast food wrappers flammable with grease, sun-brittled paper, dirty clothes. He imagined the backseat catching fire and tried to reach behind him, patting, feeling for the errant ember, grimacing at the green light visible above the next empty intersection.
Dysus felt a huge, hot bug bite his left elbow and reacted by slamming his foot against the gas pedal. He yelped and smacked the sleeve his cigarette had fallen into. It burned as he ground it into his skin. The car veered. He shook his sleeve out, flinging the still-smoldering cigarette out of his cuff and made to stamp it out on the floor mat, wincing and checking the time and still accelerating under the last green light, and when the flustered panic retreated beneath his original anxiety he finally looked back at the road just in time to watch a man disappear under the front of his car.
He braked, far too late, long after being gently jostled by two soft thumps below him.
 
 
Dysus never got to find out if he possessed enough cowardice to pull off a hit and run.
The pitchy squeal of badly maintained brakes and the crash of chassis on curb alerted supplicants of the Tor Vah’Gaar. They streamed out of their temple to investigate, their white ceremonial robes billowing in the morning wind.
Dysus sat still, his hands locked in grip around the wheel as if he meant to strangle it. He wished he could let go and light a cigarette, but that would mean he’d next have to open the door, step into the morning, and face the red squeezed-tube of a body on the road behind him. Would it be wet, steaming in the frigid air? Was his car heavy enough to squelch organs from orifice, or would he find less messy blunt force trauma? He pictured dirty tire tracks on a crushed throat. Might the man still be alive?
It was that thought that loosened his grip and allowed him to move, sludgy slow, on shock-cocooning autopilot. He reached for his cigarettes and felt a flood of relief when he found that two smokes remained in the worry-crumpled package. His hands were steady when he lit one.
He got out of the car and watched the white robes flock to the stillness in the street.
A woman stood over the body and cried, while another tapped off a message on her handheld. A man knelt, the pristine hem of his robe drawing road dust up through fabric capillaries. He reached for the body with tentative, gentle fingers.
They all saw the gun at the same time.
It had been knocked several feet from the dead man. A scratched-up bootleg particle cannon. Tech from an old empire, illegal and devastating, primed and still pointing at the temple of Tor Vah’Gaar. Dysus thought ridiculously of that old game, spin the bottle.
He sat on the curb and smoked, not wanting to bother the Vah’Gaarans with his stink, not wanting to yellow their robes with his residue. Sirens wailed, melancholy and distant, approaching via the Magway.
The crying woman ran back toward the temple, calling a name in an alien language as she flitted inside. “Baaraana!”
Realization of their narrowly-escaped victimhood widened the eyes of the Vah’Gaarans on the street. Shock ran through them like a contagion, vulnerability dawning like a weak sunrise. They stepped away from the body, their eyes on the gun as if it might come to life and shoot them on its own.
More Vah’Gaarans exited the temple, joining the congregation that formed in the road, keeping a safe distance from the downed would-be gunman. They discussed in hushed voices, asked shrill questions of each other, and gradually their attentions diverted to the silent, smoking man sitting on the curb by his ruined car.
The man with the dirty hem approached Dysus and crouched.
“Sir,” the Vah’Gaaran said. “Sir, are you alright? Are you injured?”
Dysus blew smoke away from the man’s intent, searching face. “Don’t think so.”
“Don’t think you’re alright, or don’t think you’re injured?”
Dysus blinked. “Both, I guess.” He wanted to laugh. He’d killed a man. He would not be making his appointment.
“He saved us!” A woman rushed over, the one with her handheld out, the one who’d presumably summoned the emergency vehicles that were now speeding down the Magway’s off-ramp onto the Rue. Blue and red lights spun halos in the morning fog around them. Sirens muffled the increasingly frantic voices of the Vah’Gaarans as their attentions closed in on Dysus.
He stubbed his cigarette out on the concrete and pocketed the butt. He didn’t want to litter in front of these pristine, holy people. Saviors have to keep up appearances, he thought.
 
 
Admiration was foreign to Dysus and at first he mistook it for suspicion.
When the responding officers were finally able to pry him away from the Vah’Gaarans, the media, and the tangle of emergency vehicles, they took him to the police station and parked him in an interrogation room. They gave him a cup of hot chocolate. They shook his hand. Short, neatly groomed Officer Kayata led him outside to smoke when he requested it, though she wrinkled her nose while she waited for him to finish.
He caught a glint at her throat, noticing the stylized Tor Vah’Gaaran saucer pendant she wore on a delicate chain. An icon of worship, veneration of the alien hands that cradled Earth, mending it from its human-inflicted wounds.
“You should really stop that,” she said, squinting her eyes against the smoke as he exhaled. “It stinks.”
They’re my lungs and I’ll ruin them if I want to, he thought. He narrowed his eyes at her pendant. Not that you’d understand.
Officer Kayata took a call on her handheld, walking a few yards away as Dysus blew smoke into the still-cold early afternoon sky.
“This is about to get a lot bigger,” she warned him as she strode back to him, her call concluded. “A Tor Vah’Gaar ambassador was supposed to be at that temple today.” She maintained her professional demeanor, but Dysus didn’t miss the sparkling hint of tears at the corners of her eyes.
Back in the interrogation room, Dysus sat on his hands to both hide their trembling and warm them up. Officer Kayata brought him another hot chocolate and sat primly in the metal chair across the table from Dysus. Fluorescent lights clicked above, probing and harshly bright, the better to scrutinize you with.
“This is just a formality.” Officer Bosqov, gruff and bushily mustached, shuffled incident reports and witness statements on the metal table. “You’re not in any trouble, we just want to get our facts straight. As you can imagine, the entire Vah’Gaaran community stands behind you. You told him about the ambassador?” Officer Kayata nodded. “They’ve offered their best lawyers but I don’t think you’ll need them. They’ve also set up a donation hotline.”
Dysus clenched his stomach against the tide of bile that threatened to rise. He wanted a cigarette, but his pack was empty. He felt the deprived addict’s headache peeking around the corner, waiting to ambush.
Officer Bosqov’s voice took on a serious tone, and he asked the question Dysus had been dreading.
“Where were you headed when you saw the gunman?”
Dysus swallowed, pausing for a moment too long.
“Going to the doctor. My lungs,” he said, freeing a hand unconsciously to reach for the empty pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He thumped a tightly closed fist on his chest. He thought a cough might be too much, too performative.
“Will your doctor verify that?” Bosqov clicked a pen, made a note.
“I was hoping they’d see me as a walk-in. I was coughing up blood last night.”
“I see,” Bosqov said. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his mustache as he regarded Dysus. “Now, I know this might be hard to talk about and you’re probably still in a bit of shock. But I need you to describe what happened again, with all the detail you can remember. Start with when you first saw the man on the street, what caught your attention, and what made you act. Again,” he said, his eyebrows raised with kind concern, “you aren’t in trouble. Fact is, you’re a hero whether you see yourself as one or not yet. You prevented what could have been an absolute massacre. That gun was modded and energized to Gaar and back. You saved a lot of lives. But we need to get everything on record.”
Officer Kayata twisted the Tor Vah’Gaar pendant she wore, her expression thoughtful, thankful. Dysus tried to keep from hyperventilating.
He cleared his throat. He spun his tale. He’d seen a furtive, suspicious man crossing the street, with hunters’ eyes narrowed and predatory, a gun hefted and steady, striding with obvious, murderous intent toward the temple. Dysus told the officers how he’d accelerated without hesitation, careening for the terrorist without fear for his own life, steering to kill and damn the consequences, it was the right thing to do! He had been out of his body, righteous instinct taking over, and all he’d felt was relief when the man’s rampage was aborted under his balding tires.
He’d almost convinced himself the story was true, until he found himself absentmindedly scratching the blister on his left elbow.
 
 
Vivette, the Vah’Gaaran PR representative, was a harried woman with two briefcases and a shaved head. She wore glasses and chewed gum like it fueled her, and her frantic productivity agitated and exhausted Dysus. He tried to pay attention to the several trains of thought she conducted.
“Tor’Baaraana will want to join you for some press conferences,” she said, typing a proposed media circuit schedule on a shiny laptop. She checked the official Vah’Gaaran forums. “Four independent congregations set up charity pools to cover any legal expenses. Gifts are coming in from all over the place. Is there any weird stuff about you online that I should know about?”
“I don’t think so,” Dysus said. He sipped tepid coffee and forced himself to take a bite of his rubbery omelet.
Vivette had wanted to meet him at his home, “to make you feel more comfortable, and for privacy”, she’d said, but he suspected she’d really wanted to scope out his situation and avert any potential PR crises before publicly canonizing him into the Vah’Gaaran sainthood. He’d refused, citing embarrassment about his messy bachelor’s apartment. She’d looked at him suspiciously, but had caved and met him at a cafe downtown. Time was of the essence for a story like this, she said. Already his face was plastered across screens and papers, his full name emblazoned in impact font under epithets like ‘The Hero of New Hartford’ and ‘A Savior’s Savior’.
Vivette checked a text message on her handheld, an email on her laptop, a notification on her watch. Information about Dysus assaulted her while he watched, tapping a nicotine-withdrawal beat on the table with his fingertips.
“Oh look, the Massippi branch got you a new car.” She turned the laptop around and showed Dysus a photo of grateful, white-robed zealots smiling next to a state-of-the-art Magcar. Dysus sneered. He hated those identity-stripped husks of bland futurism.
“You don’t like it?” She asked, catching his expression before looking down to respond to another text message.
“If I’d had one of those today, I wouldn’t have been there to run down Corsican.”
Trent Corsican, the other face of the day, the lone terrorist with a grudge against the benevolent aliens and their worshipers. A Regressivist with a raided apartment full of heretical literature and Macgyvered weapons. Dysus couldn’t picture the man’s face as having belonged to the body he’d smeared on the road. The visage and the corpse felt like two different men. Dysus felt like two men as well: the one who’d been anxious about an appointment earlier, and the paragon of righteous bravery he’d become.
He needed to get home. He had to clean his apartment.
“It is a bit ironic, isn’t it. The Tor Vah’Gaar give us MagTech and then you go and save them with that pollution machine relic. Oh, your ‘Reward a Hero’ fund is up to seventeen million credits,” Vivette said with an uncharacteristic awe.
“Wow.”
“I’ll say.” She narrowed her eyes. “How do you feel about joining a Vah’Gaaran chapter? It’s a great organization. And it would look great.”
Dysus clenched his teeth.
“I guess I could do that,” he said, thinking of seventeen million credits. He felt a piece of his principles snap off inside him.
“Great. A conversion might seem pandering if we do it too soon...” She checked her calendar for a good baptism date.
“Okay.” He really needed to get home to clean.
“And you’re going to need to stop smoking.” Vivette gave him a disappointed mother’s face. “It’s terrible optics and it smells awful.”
And it’s bad for me, I know, Dysus thought, and he’d never wanted a cigarette more.
He pictured himself smoking in his new Magcar. The two versions of himself, collided. The rebel and the hypocrite.
 
 
Is there anything so sacred as a being’s right to self destruct? Dysus wondered as he finally lit a cigarette. The smoke collected in the dark room, his comforting blanket of reckless autonomy.
Dysus had waited for the MagCab to pull away before unlocking the door of his apartment. He’d wondered how many more times he’d go through that familiar motion; he was now the owner of sixty million credits and could already taste the fresh air of a new settlebloc, a skyscraping penthouse with windows that opened to let in the cleanest clouds.
It was dark, the grimy settlebloc quiet, secured for the night against the scavenger sects. Dysus had slipped inside the apartment already feeling estranged from it, a trespasser, and he’d locked the door behind him quickly. He’d gone straight for his stash of smokes, navigating the clutter without needing to turn on a light.
He sat now on a ratty couch full of cigarette burns. He touched the circle on his elbow. “We match,” he said out loud, and laughed. He thought of the new couch he’d buy. Something soft, pillowy, something not pulled from a dumpster, something he might try to fall asleep on without a lit cigarette between his fingers.
Maybe it would be nice to live in the world the Tor Vah’Gaar race was trying to build.
Dysus exhaled, and he couldn’t see the smoke in the darkness. He never felt the drags as effectively when he couldn’t see the evidence of them; he saw emissions as proof of life. Was a sterile world a lived-in world? He’d believed destruction was inevitable, and more insidious if hidden.
He coughed. It was too dark to see any blood.
Maybe it was good he’d missed his appointment.
He imagined his beautiful, freshly painted penthouse again, then he thought of its opposite: a run-down safe house in a derelict settlebloc across town, sitting empty. He hadn’t had a chance to give the houses’ rusted key to Corsican; it was still nestled in his pocket alongside a pamphlet containing encrypted contact numbers, meeting coordinates, and credit stash codes. He’d lusted after the assassination bounty before, but now it seemed pathetic, an insult. Hardly enough to rise from ashes with.
A getaway driver was supposed to provide a new life, but not for themselves. He wondered if the Tor Vah’Gaar ever felt that way, rerouting a civilization from its path of shit, finding themselves Gods when they finished.
“Sorry, brother-in-cause.” Dysus raised a fresh cigarette in salut. “To new lives.”
He lit the cigarette, wondering if it would be his last, and used the same flame to burn the Regressivist pamphlet.
 
","August 07, 2023 19:24","[[{'C. A. Janke': 'Your writing in this story has an almost cinematic quality - felt like I was reading a Black Mirror episode, a shiny world with a grim underbelly. \n\nThe whole opening scene with him in the car was so vivid and drew me right in, and was so rewarding to reread. How frantic he is, his anxiety at his ""good luck"", the terrible car he\'s driving, how it all makes sense in the end. Very fun and engaging read all the way through. \n\nReally well done, and welcome to Reedsy!', 'time': '01:46 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '4'}, [{'Amanda Vivilacqua': 'Thank you so much! Really appreciate the feedback and the warm welcome :)', 'time': '19:04 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'C. A. Janke': 'Congrats on the shortlist!!', 'time': '17:36 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Amanda Vivilacqua': 'Thank you so much! Really appreciate the feedback and the warm welcome :)', 'time': '19:04 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'C. A. Janke': 'Congrats on the shortlist!!', 'time': '17:36 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'C. A. Janke': 'Congrats on the shortlist!!', 'time': '17:36 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Cedric Busteed': 'Stunning detail. You did a great job keeping the audience attached to a morally ambiguous protagonist and setting. Fantastic use of smoking as a metaphor for a type of dangerous freedom.', 'time': '19:05 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Amanda Lieser': 'Hi Amanda!\nI love your name! ;-) Congratulations on the shortlist and welcome to Reedsey! I got to say I love that this prompt took you to a car crash moment. You painted a thrilling picture for this piece and I love the way you incorporated the aliens. Nice work!!', 'time': '19:05 Sep 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Great entry into Reedsy and congrats on the shortlist.', 'time': '21:38 Aug 24, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kevin B': ""I love that you gave the main character a lot of inner layers so it wasn't just cut and dry good/evil conflict. This reads like a sweeping epic in such a short amount of space. Good job."", 'time': '17:05 Aug 24, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Philip Ebuluofor': 'Finely crafted. The scenes are wonderfully done. Congrats.', 'time': '11:53 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Welcome to reedsy and what a start! \nThis was a great story about a really interesting and conflicted character who felt real and even more real by the revelation at the end. Great work!', 'time': '09:55 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'J. D. Lair': 'This was a very good first submission Amanda! It’s no wonder you were shortlisted this week. Following for more in the future. :)', 'time': '00:24 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Marty B': ""I loved the transition of this line, 'Dysus never got to find out if he possessed enough cowardice to pull off a hit and run.'\n\nThe conceit is simple enough, a would be get-a-way driver, foiling the crime and becoming a hero by accident.\n However your descriptions are fantastic, \n'Blue and red lights spun halos in the morning fog around them.' \n-as well as the conflicting emotions of the chain smoking  Dysus.\nCongrats!"", 'time': '23:41 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'John K Adams': 'I am in awe. Your navigation of the conflict between values and practical down to earth needs was magical. At what point does idealism bump heads with fanaticism? And is self-care really selling out? \nEasy to resent the successful. Harder to resist their acceptance. \nAnd your description of tobacco addiction is horrific and alluring. This could almost be a commercial for the joys of lighting up. \nPowerful story Amanda. Look forward to reading more.', 'time': '15:07 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,6wqzwg,One Night Out on the Lake,Murray Burns,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/6wqzwg/,/short-story/6wqzwg/,Science Fiction,0,"['Christian', 'Funny', 'Inspirational']",27 likes,"
One Night Out on the LakeThe best time to fish for walleyes is the last half-hour of sunlight. Every fisherman worth his weight in nightcrawlers knows that. It is also the best time to be out on the lake for any reason, or even better, for no reason- the wind dies down, the temperature drops, the sky presents a tapestry of extraordinary colors, all is quiet and still, and it is enough to just be there. Marty knew this better than any man alive, and he took full advantage. He was there so often even the fish recognized his boat. The occasional cherry on top was a full moon rising above the pines, and on this memorable, spectacular night, Marty had it all.The hum of his 10 HP Merc broke the silence and floated across the lake as he cruised toward his favorite spot. Marty shut down the motor and glided another 30 feet before he dropped anchor. He sent his minnow to an inglorious fate at the lake bottom, pulled it up a few feet, opened a beer, and took a few puffs of his cigar. Heaven on earth. Why not?The sun set, the moon took center stage, and the cloudless sky was splashed with a spectacular umbrella of stars. It was as quiet as an empty church at night.Marty didn’t notice the slight tugging on his line. His eyes and full attention were on the approaching light steadily moving across the lake’s surface. It was just a few feet above the water, but it didn’t appear to be a boat as he saw no red and green running lights, just a single bright white light with a hint of a diffuse glow around it. Marty heard no sound, and there was no sail, only the bright white light heading straight for him. Curiosity and fear were vying for top billing in Marty’s brain as the object drew closer.The light of the full moon revealed something that appeared to be more earthly, but just as strange. Marty saw the silhouette of a person standing on the bow of an old wooden boat. The fact he wasn’t paddling or rowing added to the mystery.The old man’s boat stopped just feet from Marty’s boat and held in place despite a slight breeze from the north. Fear dissipated into the warm night air as Marty sensed no threat from the man, and he was now consumed only by the who and why.It was an old man with a full beard, dressed in a long white robe. He was holding a lantern that emitted a perfect circle of bright, white light around both boats, and Marty felt a shudder run from head to toe.“Are you Marty?”“Uh…yes, I’m Marty.”The old man looked at a crumpled piece of paper.“Yeah, they told me I’d find you here. I guess you like to fish. It says that right here.”‘They’, thought Marty, who are ‘they’? Marty was too puzzled to think and uttered a mindless response.“Yes…I think this is the best time for fishing.”“Couldn’t agree more. Fewer worldly distractions. It’s easier to focus on what matters in life, so yes, it’s a good time to be out fishing.”The mystery of the man grew as Marty had no idea what the old man was talking about.“I don’t believe I’ve seen you out here before. Are you from around here?”The old man laughed.“Oh, that’s a good one. No, I’m not from anywhere.” Marty of course found this to be an odd response and thought the old man might have “issues”. And as the watercraft appeared to be only borderline seaworthy, the old man standing on the bow of a rickety wooden boat riding low in the water made him nervous.“Your boat is a little… different. I didn’t hear a motor, there’s no sail, and…”Marty peered at the inside of the unusual stranger’s boat.“…and I don’t see any kind of a battery or electrical device. How the heck is that thing powered?”“That’s a good question. I don’t know. Not my department. He doesn’t always tell us everything.”“He? Who is he?”“If you don’t know who ‘he’ is, you’re in bigger trouble than I thought.”Marty had little time to digest the comment as the tip of his fishing pole was suddenly yanked downward. He grabbed the pole, and pulled hard to set the hook, but felt no resistance.“God dammit! I lost it.”“Watch your language! One more of those, and I might lose you!”“Listen, nice meeting you whoever you are, but I came out here to fish, so…”“Same here.”“What do you mean?”“I’m out here fishing too.”Marty took another quick look at the old man’s boat.“Uh…you don’t have a fishing pole. How do you expect to catch a fish if you don’t have a fishing pole?”“I’m a fisher of men.”Now Marty knew he was dealing with someone not quite right in the head.“How nice. Look, you should go back to town. You’ll find a lot of them there.”“You’re telling me? I’ve been there. We’ve all been there, but tonight’s assignment puts me right here. You should feel special. We do a lot of group therapy with regular visits to this world, but this is a very targeted mission. Not everyone gets a one-on-one. You must show promise.”“Uh…you visit this world? Like you’re not of this world…like an alien or something?”“Well, we’re normally not called aliens, but I guess you could say that. Yes, I am not of this world.”Marty thought the guy was nuts, but the boat…the boat that moved without power and seemed to move effortlessly over the water…made him wonder.“I’m sure this will all seem a little odd to you, Marty, but I hope this turns your life around.”“Turn my life around? What do you…and by the way, how do you know my name?”The old man again looked at his notes.“It’s all right here, Marty…name, tracking, sightings, sins, wandering off the path… I’d show you, but that’s a no-no.”“My sins, tracking…who are you?”“Peter.”“Peter? Peter who?”“Just Peter. You know, the way they do for really famous people like Elvis or Madonna. Or you could throw in a Simon if you wanted to, Simon Peter. There’s also a nickname I was quite fond of- ‘Rock’. Did you know I was the Rock before the Rock was the Rock?”A boat that moves without power, sins, a long white robe, Simon Peter, a fisher of men…the light bulb went off. Marty laughed.“Hey, I went to Catholic grade school. I’ve read the Bible. I get it. You’re supposed to be St. Peter, but you’re a little early for Halloween. It’s only September. The boat’s a nice touch. You’ll have to tell me how you do that. And why practice on me?”“That’s not funny, Marty. This is serious stuff. Do you want to catch fish or save your soul?”“Wait a minute. Is this something like those Jehova Witness people coming to your house to preach the Bible? Man, you are really going that extra mile…the outfit, the boat, coming out on a lake in the middle of the night. I got to hand it to you, but I’m all set with the religious stuff, so you can move on to the next house…or boat. Thanks for coming.”The old man shook his head in frustration.“They told me you’d be one of those more difficult cases.”Curiosity made a comeback; Marty had to ask.“More difficult? What do you mean?”“Well, take the really evil ones, the bad people. It’s easy to point out how they need to shape up and change their lives. Even they know they shouldn’t be doing what they’ve been doing. The ‘Tweeners’ are more challenging.”“Tweeners?”“Yes, you line up like a lot of people, not doing bad things, but not really doing good things. You’re just sort of here. And that’s not acceptable, Marty.”Marty was getting drawn in.“And the challenging part?” “It’s harder to get people to do good things than it is to get them to stop doing bad things.” As strange as it was for an old man to show up in the middle of a lake in a boat that seemed to move on its own, Marty’s mind was now contemplating the man’s words. Good things, bad things…how did it all fit into his own life? The message sufficiently piqued his interest that he wanted to know more about the messenger.“Alright, all very good, but you’ve got to tell me who you are and what you’re doing out here.”“It’s true that I’m not of this world, but I’m not your typical run-of-the-mill alien; I’m not even of this Universe. I am St. Peter.”The seriousness of the moment slipped a bit as a wry smile appeared on Marty’s face.“Right.”“Fine, I run into this all the time. What do you want for proof?”Marty thought for a moment.“Well, since we’re out on a lake, how about you do the walk-on-water thing?”“That wasn’t me, you ninny. And you said you read the Bible. Oh, my goodness, you should have been paying more attention to Sister Martin’s religious instruction in 7th Grade rather than harboring those impure thoughts about Susie Parker.”Marty’s eyes popped wide open, and he almost fell out of the boat. Sister Martin, 7th Grade, Susie Parker…impure thoughts. The old man nailed it!“How…how do you know about any of that?”And as an afterthought to defend himself…“And I never had impure thoughts about Susie Parker.”“Right.”Marty struggled to figure out how the old man knew such things.“You must know my family or someone who went to school with me.”“Sure I know them. I know everyone and everything about them. I know everything about you, Marty. Maybe that will convince you. Try me.”Marty accepted the challenge.“My favorite color?”“Blue.”“Food?”“Pizza. Come on, Marty, you can do better than that.”“Ok, my pet turtle’s name when I was a little boy?”“Speedy.”“First girl I kissed?”The old man laughed.“Well, we know it wasn’t Susie Parker. Angela Jones, ninth grade, in the alley behind Billy Johnson’s house.”Marty was running out of ways to not believe. He gave it one final shot.“Biggest walleye I ever caught?”“Seven pounds, four ounces, and twenty-nine inches. You caught it right here on a red and white silver spoon. It rained that night.”Marty had no words as he stared at the old man in disbelief.“Could you maybe do a miracle or two, you know, just to make it more believable?”“Oh ye of little faith, sorry, I don’t do tricks. I just know things, like the day you copied off Bobby Carlson’s paper on that 5th Grade math test, or how you lied to your Dad about eating all your navy beans, or the times you tried to peek down Susie Parker’s…”“Ok, ok! That’s enough. I believe.”“I’m sure this must come as a complete shock to you, Marty, but I am St. Peter, the first disciple, a fisher of men.”Marty’s head had fogged up. None of this seemed possible.“Alright, let’s say you are St. Peter. What are you doing out here, and why now?”“Why not here? Why not now?”“Ok, then just why?”“Even if you mistook me for the one walking on water, I have to believe you’ve heard the words, ‘Many are called, but few are chosen.’ Well, Marty, you’ve been called, but you’ve not been chosen.”“What?! I’ve led a good life. I…”“Let me stop you there. You’ve led a ‘not bad life’, Marty, not a ‘good life'. A lot of people make that mistake. A ‘not bad life’ does not equal a ‘good life’. There’s quite a gap between the two. But fortunately for you, we’re strong believers in second chances. I mean, Mary Magdeline, the Penitent Thief, Jean Valjean…”“Jean Valjean? He wasn’t a real person.”“We cast a wide net. But that’s beside the point. I know I’m going out on a limb here, but do you know this one? ‘Whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me. Whatever you did not do for the least of my brothers, you did not do for me.’ You scored pretty high on the scale of not doing bad things to people, Marty, but you kind of washed out when we looked for the good things you’ve done for people.”“Wait a Catholic grade school minute. I’ve avoided sin my whole life…well, at least the big ones, the mortal sins I think you’d call them. That’s all they ever said I need to do.”“That only gets you halfway there, Marty.”“Well, I’ve done lots of good things, too, like I’ve worked hard and provided for my family. We have a nice house, good cars…”“I need to stop you again, Marty. Those are things you had to do, the bare minimum. You are obligated to support your family. And the house and cars? Those are for you too, Marty. Let me help you out here.”St. Peter again looked at his notes.“I see here…you play softball twice a week in the summer and bowl once a week in the winter.”“Yes.”“Have you ever coached one of your kids’ T-Ball, baseball, or basketball teams?”“No.”“Bingo! Have you always had a nice Thanksgiving feast with your family?”“Yes.”“Have you ever volunteered to serve Thanksgiving meals at a homeless shelter?”“No.”“Bingo!”“I kind of see where you’re going with this, but could you maybe please stop saying bingo?”“Certainly. Do you keep your sidewalks clear of ice and snow in the winter?”“Yes.”“Have you ever shoveled the snow in front of the widow Jenkins’ house?”“No.”“Gottcha’!”Marty lowered his head. “I guess I’d rather go with ‘bingo’ if that’s alright.”“Certainly….”And so it went. St. Peter went through a long list of volunteer activities that would qualify as doing something for the least among us: checking in on sick or elderly neighbors, foster parenting, tutoring a child, adopting a child, Big Brothers, fundraising for charities, pen pal for a prison inmate, Scout Troop leader, pro bono professional services, volunteering at animal shelters, Feed America, blood donor, help out at kids’ sports events, Habitat for Humanity, neighborhood litter cleanup, visiting lonely souls in nursing homes, mow your neighbor’s lawn, and so on. Anyone within earshot might have thought a rapid-fire Church Bingo tournament was going on out on the lake, with a sheepish ‘no’ from Marty followed by a near celebratory response from St. Peter: “no- Bingo!; no- Bingo!; no- Bingo!” When St. Peter set down his list, the score was a disturbing 99 Bingos, 1 Gottcha’, and zero “Attaboys”.A dejected Marty spoke in a barely audible tone.“I guess I could have done more.”“More?! You haven’t done diddly-squat! With your big score on the ‘Don’t-Bee’ table, even the bare minimum on the ‘Do-Bee’ scale would have put you over the top. What have you been doing with your life?!”“I’m sorry. I wish you…or someone…would have showed up and told me all this a long time ago.”“Marty, we’ve been here all along. We’ve been talking to you every day. You just weren’t listening. Take heed of the message, Marty. You have time.”St. Peter’s boat slowly started to turn. “I have to go. I’m really booked up. We all are. You earth people are keeping us busy.”“I’m curious. If you’re not of this world, not even of this Universe, where do you go?”“It would be hard to explain. It’s a place that you could not imagine, but you’d like it there. That’s the best I can do.”“Will I see you again?”“See me? No, but I will be able to hear you. And you’ll hear me, Marty, if you’re listening. I’ll be rooting for you.”St. Peter looked at Marty with a sympathetic eye.“This is critical stuff, Marty. Do you understand what I’ve been telling you?”“I do.”“It’s a big part of why you were put here, Marty, to help others. I'm sure you remember hearing these things as a child- 'Love thy Neighbor' and 'It is better to give than to receive'. Those words still apply, Marty. They will always apply.""Marty looked at St. Peter, then at the awesome, humbling canopy of stars above, and a hint of a tear formed in the corner of his eye as he measured his place in this world and thought of all the things he had not done in his life.“I think your heart’s in the right place, Marty. I’m confident you’ll turn it around. Just be more aware of where you may be needed, what you can do for others, how you can fulfill your purpose.”“I’ll try.”Marty saw a bright white light in the distance, slowly moving across the lake’s surface.“Look, Peter, there’s another light out here.”“That’s my brother Andrew. Like I said, you folks are keeping us busy. Everyone gets a second chance at receiving the message. Do you know anyone who needs a visit?”
","August 09, 2023 18:16","[[{'Michał Przywara': ""Frankly, St. Peter sounds tired :) \n\nThere's obviously a very strong Christian angle to this, and what it is isn't a secret - St. Peter spells it out quite clearly. But I think it ties into more general themes too, about life. Thriving vs merely surviving, well-being (ours and others'), our impact on others and the world - these are universal things. \n\nAnd there's an interesting moral question there: if you are capable of doing more, but you don't, is that an evil act? Interesting to think about. \n\nThe banter was amusing too. Thanks for shar..."", 'time': '20:38 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Murray Burns': '\'To whom much is given, much is required\'....perhaps we need a corollary in today\'s ""gimme"" world: \'To whom anything is given, something is required\'. I appreciate your comments. Thanks.', 'time': '01:02 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Murray Burns': '\'To whom much is given, much is required\'....perhaps we need a corollary in today\'s ""gimme"" world: \'To whom anything is given, something is required\'. I appreciate your comments. Thanks.', 'time': '01:02 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': ""Great story & excellent deliverance, Murray, superbly expanding one's horizon."", 'time': '18:57 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': ""Christian luminary, walleye, and sins committed pursuing Susie Parker. It all adds up to a fun tale with serious moral underpinnings. I think I like St. Peter's approach to delivering God's messages. I'd certainly listen to him!\n\nCheers, my friend."", 'time': '12:25 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'Murray, I love this story. Great reminder to us all. Done in a way only Murray could deliver. Well done. LF6\nChalk one up for us Christians in the crowd. I\'m one. \nI found one small typo, ""despite a sight...""', 'time': '18:58 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Right on message. Creative delivery. Nice job. Helping the needy, too.🥴Most of us need reminding.', 'time': '20:46 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,xihshz,Visitant,Martin Ross,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/xihshz/,/short-story/xihshz/,Science Fiction,0,"['Contemporary', 'Science Fiction']",25 likes,"
News of the alien invasion had dominated the news around here for several days, but Oscar and Nicole saw no option but at least to try.Nicole already had lost two cousins to the inhumans’ violence in their town two states away, and there was little reason to believe there would be much mercy or humanity when they reached their destination. They controlled the water and food supplies, battling and battering the resistance. They apparently had been bred to hate the humans who ventured into their appropriated territory, and had no hesitation in taking babies and children to emphasize the totality of their conquest. Their ability to saturate both river and desert, and their indifferent savagery toward their prey, filled Oscar with a dread he dared not share with his wife, who was carrying something far more valuable than her mother’s Bible and the supplies she required to safeguard the incubating life inside her.Beyond the good people who at considerable risk had stashed provisions along the way, there were the profiteers, the opportunists, who preyed on the reported invasion, on the desperation of innocents. Oscar had resisted the temptation to throw in with these jackals, whom, he’d heard, would as easily take their money and hand them directly to the monsters who hid in the shadows beyond what Nicole called The Gauntlet. Safety was neither in numbers nor the care of strangers, not any more.And so Oscar and Nicole huddled under a mercifully deep overhang, sharing the last yellowing apple they’d secured two days earlier. The best shot at survival was roughly three more miles off, by Oscar’s calculations, but his bride and daughter (dare he hope?) required more immediate sustenance and hydration. He’d located a bottle of dollar store water the resistance had stowed under a thorny shrub yesterday, but even rationing the meager refreshment and secretly withholding his own needs, there was a mere half-inch remaining. Nicole was not looking well, and he could not discern the sweat and sun from fever and flush. Oscar was concerned what might happen should the inhuman horde intercept them before they made the “safe zone.”just the night before, they’d seen the lights in the starry sky so far beyond the urban smog and city lights. No wishing star to guide them on their path, no helicopters sweeping the night, not here and not so unnaturally fast and multidirectional. The creatures in whatever ship or beam or wormhole no doubt were reconnoitering their own route, like lost tourists seeking the last gallon of gas or an intergalactic meeting point, or perhaps they might even have been scouting new real estate.“I’m sorry, but we must move on,” Oscar told Nicole.**Nicole caught the glint, under a rare and surprisingly hardy outcropping. There was the possibility she’d spotted the debris of a previous traveler or even a hapless hiker, but Oscar was beyond hope, clutching at survival without emotion. He sprinted toward the glistening and, promisingly, refracting light in the vegetation.And that’s when the inhumans were on them. They appeared huge, all hairless skulls and black, reflecting eyes, green shapes lunging and brandishing weapons, the musculature of beings shaped by a compulsion to conquer and a viciousness of single-minded purpose. They grunted and jabbered in a tongue alien to the former farmer, but there was no error in interpreting the hunger and anticipation on what was visible of their faces.Their leader, smaller but somehow more compact than the group, made a harsh sound that crackled with client. Oscar watched miserably as the tall bottle was plucked from the brush and upended, its life-giving contents drained at his feet.“Please,” he howled, displaying his palms and hoping these inhumans might have the capacity to understand. “My wife is pregnant!”The leader glanced over his shoulder. A female, it would appear, uttered a single phrase in their language, something perhaps cosmically maternal flashing across her face. The leader nodded and turned back, poking Oscar face-first into the ground. The others seized a shrieking Nicole, shoved her as well onto her swelling belly, and secured the couples’ wrists.They cackled and sneered as they regarded their catch of the day. Oscar absurdly was relieved they had only now begun their family. The children who had disappeared in the night, the babies taken with no hope of their eventual return.Suddenly, the braying cries of victory and cruelty to come just…ceased. A new, pungent smell filled Oscar’s nostrils. A smell familiar from glorious moments with friends and family – no, the odor that had caused Oscar to gag at the roadside ditch where he’d so recently cradled Nicole as she wailed over the cartel-charred remains of her Primo Tio. More strange chatter, this time lower, calmer, in a timbre Oscar had never before heard, even in the hokey old monster movies his ancient abuelo loved so. He yelled for Nicole to keep her head down, and averted his eyes from the shadows that loomed over them, from the glimpses of these new invaders. Something too long, too wide, with too many joints and a cool feel, rested on his shoulder. And, it would seem, patted him with a rhythmic cooing. His wrists sprung free, and he finally looked up at the one freeing his Nicole.“¡Por favor!,” he pleaded again, weakly. “¡Mi esposa está embarazada!”**“Some people call it an ‘invasion,' it’s like an invasion. They have violently overrun the Mexican border,” the TV over the counter blared. The voice was simultaneously venomous and childishly confident, like many of the preening national politicians back home who sounded somewhat like they were impaired in the brain. The speaker, El Jefe himself, was orange – not simply his thick, bizarrely piled hair, but his skin as well.Oscar might have giggled, and he could have without danger, possibly for the first time in days. The diner across the highway from the packed Walmart was populated entirely with the Ruizes’ predecessors across the border, those with papers and U.S.-born grandchildren who still nearly daily were detained by ICE, by the border patrol, by flushed and spitting Norteamericanos to whom Spanish was an invitation to warfare. Primo Tomas, still in his Brownsville Sanitation Department uniform, had seized the both of them, too jubilant to ask questions Oscar did not want to answer (chiefly at their sudden, early materialization safe and astoundingly sound near the cotton fields just north of town), and rushed them immediately to Daniela’s Cantino to revive their bodies and spirits with platter after platter of meat the newly arrived father-to-be willed himself to devour until will no longer was necessary.“They’ve overrun the Mexican police, and they’ve overrun and hurt badly Mexican soldiers,” the bloated man – like, who, Jabba from the Star Wars movie? -- added. Tomas uttered a single curse; Nicole laughed his apology away, studying the closed captioning en Espanol. The title “Invasión Alienígena” half-covered the banner “Alien Invasion At The Border: A Fox Special Report.”El Hombre Naranja paused for hoots and arm-waving. “So this isn’t an innocent group of people. It’s a large number of people that are tough. They’ve injured, they’ve attacked, and the Mexican police and military has actually suffered.”“Fucking imbecil,” Tomas grunted, impaling a wad of carnitas. He looked again to Nicole, and then to Oscar, who shook his head with a grin and gulped at his second piquant Michelada. Then he sobered for a moment as the 51-inch Samsung translated The Orange Man’s words.They’d soon go looking for the Border Patrol team – the inhuman squad willing, what, to leave them to die in the desert, or to haul them in for deportation back into the cartels’ Hell? The ongoing diatribe about the “aliens,” the illegals, this invasion of waiters and dishwashers and landscapers and conserjes -- would rise to a shrill and murderous pitch when or more likely if they found anything of the ICE team. Oscar could ID little of their tormentors’ remains beyond the leader's twisted mirrored black sunglasses. The logical assumption would be that the incinerated mounds Oscar’d witnessed following their liberation were the product of cartel retaliation. But for what? They weren’t the ones fighting for their escape, for a new life where Arcilla – they’d fixed on the “Altar of Heaven” after being conveyed across the swinging gates of Hell – might just have a chance of a future among humans.No matter, Oscar realized – logic seemingly had no place here. They simply would point to the brutal savagery of the “aliens.” And it was quite savage. As a devout Catholic, he’d silently recited La Senal De La Cruz for those Nicole’s saviors had dispatched. He had not forgotten that brief flash of compassion the female agent had betrayed, nor how quickly it vanished.As for the rest, Oscar pondered briefly why these visitantes celestial, these visitors from the heavens, had intervened. And why there had seemed something unfathomably familiar about them. It hadn’t been until they’d been deposited on the rural road that he’d remembered watching some ridiculous old, grainy American show with his dying abuelo -- this one with Mr. Spock going on in his mismatched dubbed tones about monsters and ghosts and ancient Gods. And outer space aliens. Oscar was more absorbed by the legendary Vulcan – Star Trek was a universal language -- but now, recalling the petroglyphs Senor Nimoy presented as evidence, he realized what great artists his Aztec ancestors truly were.Spock in his turtleneck suggested the Aztec pyramids were built by giant gods at the end of one of the destructions of the world, by ice, fire, or water. The City of the Gods, Teotihuacan, was built at the beginning of one of the four worlds, his abuelo had related before sending him for another illicit cerveza. How this one ends, who knows, Oscar mused.“¿En qué estás pensando, primo?” Tomas teased. Oscar grinned foolishly, and looked over to where Tomas’ wife and sisters were dispensing advice to his plump Nicole.Enough with such thoughts, Oscar scolded. For all that lie ahead, this was a beginning, or as much a beginning as he might have dreamed. 
","August 06, 2023 23:05","[[{'Michał Przywara': 'That\'s a neat take on the prompt - a very relevant look. Like others have said, the word ""alien"" gets thrown around a lot nowadays, but when we label people as aliens it\'s easy to forget that they *are* people. Maybe, probably, that\'s by design. \n\nThis starts very tense, so the ending is quite a relief. A meal to celebrate it is fitting.', 'time': '20:32 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks, Michal. The subject matter’s very clise to my heart — people dehumanize immigrants, ignoring that it makes THEM inhuman.', 'time': '21:17 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '4'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks, Michal. The subject matter’s very clise to my heart — people dehumanize immigrants, ignoring that it makes THEM inhuman.', 'time': '21:17 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '4'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': ""Nice interpretation of the prompt. It shines a light on how we've used that word for so long without bothering to consider its implication. Well done."", 'time': '17:08 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks so much, Ellen! It’s an issue close to my heart, plus I’m really not good at intensive sci-fi😊.', 'time': '18:33 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks so much, Ellen! It’s an issue close to my heart, plus I’m really not good at intensive sci-fi😊.', 'time': '18:33 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Marty B': ""I liked the comparison between the vicious  'aliens' vs the atrocities of Border Patrol agents!\n I liked the food refences, first I was vicariously thirsty along with Oscar and Nicole, and then craving a 'wad of carnitas' and a cerveza!\n\nThe question I had though is 'why' they were braving the aliens in the Gauntlet- what was wrong with where they were two states away' from danger?\n\nthanks!"", 'time': '03:51 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks! Two Mexican states away. I too am craving a double wad of carnitas and a cerveza.', 'time': '05:04 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '4'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks! Two Mexican states away. I too am craving a double wad of carnitas and a cerveza.', 'time': '05:04 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '4'}, []], [{'Russell Mickler': ""Hey there, Martin!\n\nYou know, I had hoped hoped hoped you'd take this prompt :) I wanna see Mike Dodge in space!\n\nIt's Alien Invasion! And Nicole is preggers! Loved your description of the dangerous world brought on by humans, and not the aliens. Nice setting of the scene! I do like the POC angle for your characters and the use of Spanish in the narrative - woot!\n\nGASP! You _describe_ an alien! So cool!\n\nOoo this is starting to sound more like real life ... YIKES! It's Trump! (mind blown) But there's a Star Wars and Trek reference, so I forg..."", 'time': '18:07 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks! We’re visiting the granddaughter past three days, but I may try for a Dodge story if I get the lawn mowed early enough Thursday. This one was me going full-tilt lib — I was hoping the misdirection would work.😉', 'time': '19:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Russell Mickler': 'Ha! Well I was onboard - Trump is far scarier to me than space aliens :)', 'time': '20:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Martin Ross': 'True that!', 'time': '21:28 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Martin Ross': 'Oh, BTW, the wad is my official measure of carnitas😋', 'time': '19:10 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Russell Mickler': 'HA!', 'time': '20:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks! We’re visiting the granddaughter past three days, but I may try for a Dodge story if I get the lawn mowed early enough Thursday. This one was me going full-tilt lib — I was hoping the misdirection would work.😉', 'time': '19:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Russell Mickler': 'Ha! Well I was onboard - Trump is far scarier to me than space aliens :)', 'time': '20:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Martin Ross': 'True that!', 'time': '21:28 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Russell Mickler': 'Ha! Well I was onboard - Trump is far scarier to me than space aliens :)', 'time': '20:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'True that!', 'time': '21:28 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'True that!', 'time': '21:28 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Martin Ross': 'Oh, BTW, the wad is my official measure of carnitas😋', 'time': '19:10 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Russell Mickler': 'HA!', 'time': '20:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Russell Mickler': 'HA!', 'time': '20:09 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'Martin, such great description and characters. Wow! \nSo great. Masterfully done. LF6', 'time': '22:38 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks, Lily!', 'time': '23:23 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks, Lily!', 'time': '23:23 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': 'That was great, I respect a good imagination, nice job, Martin, & excellent characters. BTW, before he passed away, I watched Leonard Nimoy on an interview, and I couldn\'t help but to say to my Ex wife, ""Boy, doesn\'t he look so much better since he got his ears fixed?"" - LOL, She actually took me seriously...', 'time': '21:57 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': '🤣🤣🤣. Reminds me of my mom — when I watched Ironside reruns late at night and she’d wake up, she’d ask me, “So, watching Perry Mason again?” I always wanted to tell her, “Sure — one where he took a header down the courthouse steps…”\n\nThanks, Joe.', 'time': '23:22 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Joe Malgeri': 'Ha-ha-ha... That was Excellent... LOL...!', 'time': '23:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': '🤣🤣🤣. Reminds me of my mom — when I watched Ironside reruns late at night and she’d wake up, she’d ask me, “So, watching Perry Mason again?” I always wanted to tell her, “Sure — one where he took a header down the courthouse steps…”\n\nThanks, Joe.', 'time': '23:22 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Joe Malgeri': 'Ha-ha-ha... That was Excellent... LOL...!', 'time': '23:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Joe Malgeri': 'Ha-ha-ha... That was Excellent... LOL...!', 'time': '23:46 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Clever and topical approach to the prompt Martin. Great job.', 'time': '06:45 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thank, Derrick!', 'time': '14:17 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thank, Derrick!', 'time': '14:17 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'The aliens are here.\n\nThanks for liking my version.', 'time': '00:33 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Mwa-ha-ha!!', 'time': '00:35 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Mwa-ha-ha!!', 'time': '00:35 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Cassie Finch': 'this is cool.', 'time': '09:41 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks, Cassie!', 'time': '15:18 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '3'}, {'Cassie Finch': ""You're welcome, Martin."", 'time': '09:52 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'Thanks, Cassie!', 'time': '15:18 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '3'}, [{'Cassie Finch': ""You're welcome, Martin."", 'time': '09:52 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Cassie Finch': ""You're welcome, Martin."", 'time': '09:52 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Aoi Yamato': 'great story.', 'time': '03:56 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,8uf90z,Your Point Is?,LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/8uf90z/,/short-story/8uf90z/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fantasy']",23 likes,"
     We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you an important message from the office of the President of the United States of America.      Hardly a single head in Tequila Mockingbird, the high-class bar in a dead-end town, stirred an inch in response. The President had stopped mattering much to anyone in this area many moons ago. Across the country, there was a similar non-response wherever the TV programming could be interrupted.      Ladies and Gentlemen of this fine nation, I stand before you to bring groundbreaking information that may initially seem frightening. Still, I want to assure each and every one of you that your government has everything under control and has for many decades.      A few eyes cast a quick glance at the screen perched high above the multi-colored bottles of liquid distraction before looking away again, and the automated jukebox in the corner switched from playing Don’t Stop Believin’ to I Know You Want Me (Calle Ocho). Pammy sent the eight ball flying into the corner pocket, Greg missed his shot on the dartboard, Rhonda let out a belch at the end of her beer, and the President looked around as if he actually stood six feet above the bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam and peered down at them all.      What I’m about to tell you will surely come as a shock, but we are all in this together, and I can confirm that there is nothing to fear.      A few eyes at the bar looked up and remained trained on the television this time. “Hey!” Bobby Burgner belted over his broad, dusty shoulder, “Pipe the hell down! I’m tryin’ to hear the news!” Several eyes turned their glare to Debra, who was apparently training to audition on both American Idol and Dancing With The Stars with her partner, the bar stool. It was a relief to everyone when she tripped over her partner’s two left feet and stopped singing in her version of Spanish.      The President gave a dramatic pause as if he knew the murmurs would start up, his knuckles white and bony and mottled with a mass of purple veins beating in rhythm to his eighty-eight-year-old heart that fallaciously believed he’d never be required to give this speech. His face was the oddest combination of sickly pale and girlish pink, and the patrons of Tequila Mockingbird began to take notice that something just wasn’t right. “What’d he say before? What are we not supposed to fear??”      “I said, pipe the hell down! Don’t you understand English?”       Behind the bar, Barry grabbed the remote to the highfalutin jukebox in the corner that took bank cards online instead of quarters from pockets. Silence descended upon them all, the President still hovering above them, their necks straining as their heads pushed back to watch and wait and stare at the sweat starting to run down to the jowls of this geriatric wonder telling them they were safe with him. They watched him inhale a long, shaky breath, his watery blue eyes taking on a steely determination, the blue tinge to his lips momentarily easing into a shade somewhere between gutted pig and overly zealous blush application.      It is a momentous time in our history as Americans, nay, as people from this great planet, when we can finally answer the question, ‘Are we alone in this vast universe?’. And the answer is a resounding no.     There was a lengthy pause as every eye stared at the President, who had once again paused and stared into the camera with a doddering glance that appeared as if his eyes were following the people at home, a Mona Lisa trick that missed the mark. Then, in almost perfect unison, each patron of the Happy Hour crowd erupted into hysterical laughter.     Bobby Burgner, resident of this town since he was a child who crash-landed with his parent’s tour group in the preacher’s backyard, was from the little planet hiding on the other side of Mars, never captured by the telescopes and probes, a beach resort for most of the galaxy who coveted their pearly sands and pristine waters. They’d had a great time getting to know each other as his parents were proselytizing the good word of The Prime, and Preacher Joe was determined to share the faith of American Christians from sea to shining sea and beyond. Soon, the entire town accepted the tour group, who shared the pews with them at Mulberry Methodist and the stands at every Friday night high school football game.      Now, I know what you might be thinking, but you need to understand that they have been here since the dawn of humankind. We have never been alone. They aren’t here to start an invasion; they are our caretakers. It turns out we’re pretty darn stupid as a species, and without them… well… humanity would have never even begun. We’re just a little too prone to violence and a little too resistant to progress.     Everyone here knew it was true. They’d all been warned about their missionary work on this planet. Some came as scientists trying to undo the damage of this species. Some came as tourists who just really loved the culture. Others were family of diplomats who were employed here to continue to negotiate and guide the human race away from self-destruction so that brighter minds could continue to develop in the hopes that, one day, this Earth would be as great as any other developed planet in the tri-galaxy area. High-ranking officials could (and would) relocate their immediate family for their stay, which was often a life-long commitment and not to be taken lightly. Half of this town was from somewhere far, far away, and everyone knew it. The only way to keep a secret is to ensure only one person knows that secret; once you include a second person, word will get out sooner than later.      Barry flicked the remote towards the jukebox again, Pammy racked up the pool balls, Greg missed the target on the dartboard again, Rhonda ordered another beer, Bobby asked for salted nuts, and Debra dug into her nachos that had magically appeared when she wasn’t paying attention.     No one was surprised that this groundbreaking information went by without notice or much commentary. Inflation was at an all-time high. Gas prices jacked up twenty-five cents per gallon overnight. School shopping started in earnest, and the stores had limited bulletproof backpacks. Alien or not, the nation had more significant concerns. As the President said – they’d always been here. Barry poured a drink, and the jukebox played Tubthumping. 
","August 08, 2023 06:44","[[{'H.e. Ross': 'In reading back over the story I understood but the first time around I stalled at the paragraph:  A few eyes at the bar.....in her version of Spanish. \nI had to read it a couple of times and still did not grasp ‘the point’ until going back after reading the whole work. \nAll in all, I liked the concept and aside from that stalling I really enjoyed the quality of writing and the story.', 'time': '10:11 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Thank you for taking the time to read my story, not once, but twice! Your thought out response is refreshing here, where no one seems to say anything that can be perceived as negative. I appreciate the time you have given me, and I'm glad that you found my story interesting enough to spend so much time with it. Thank you, sir."", 'time': '16:54 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Thank you for taking the time to read my story, not once, but twice! Your thought out response is refreshing here, where no one seems to say anything that can be perceived as negative. I appreciate the time you have given me, and I'm glad that you found my story interesting enough to spend so much time with it. Thank you, sir."", 'time': '16:54 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Joe Smallwood': 'And the band played on...\nThanks for reading my story, seeing as our take on aliens was kind of similar. Enjoyed this. Thanks.', 'time': '20:47 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Great minds think alike, or so I've heard :)"", 'time': '04:19 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Great minds think alike, or so I've heard :)"", 'time': '04:19 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Heh, that\'s a fun twist :) For the people in the bar, watching the TV, it had a feeling of ""the last horse finally crosses the finish line"". \n\nThe general reaction is probably accurate. The presence of aliens is a philosophical issue, and things like gas and groceries are real, immediate. It probably helps that they behave like people. Or, given the aliens were there from the beginning, maybe it\'s humans who behave like aliens. \n\nThanks for sharing!', 'time': '20:39 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'Thank you for reading!\n\nI think since 2020, nearly anything could happen and would fail to draw the appropriate response from us. Humans are weird.', 'time': '04:19 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'Thank you for reading!\n\nI think since 2020, nearly anything could happen and would fail to draw the appropriate response from us. Humans are weird.', 'time': '04:19 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Ellen Neuborne': 'Aliens are among us but everyone is more interested in gas prices. That rings true! Nice job.', 'time': '16:48 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""I honestly think the world is weird enough and there are so many conflicts to address that aliens would end up being like number 73 on things we're concerned over.\n\nThank you so much for reading and commenting!"", 'time': '19:26 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""I honestly think the world is weird enough and there are so many conflicts to address that aliens would end up being like number 73 on things we're concerned over.\n\nThank you so much for reading and commenting!"", 'time': '19:26 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Steve Uppendahl': 'This was a fun story with a very cool concept. Though, if there were aliens here this entire time to look after us, they must have insane patience or are really fucking loyal for some reason. Or they have one sick sense of humor. \n\nEither way, thanks for the fun read. Write on.', 'time': '03:42 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'I like to think of it as animal conservation. If humans could have saved the dodo, we would have tried lol. Alien planets probably have their own version of Sara McLachlan in a commercial singing Arms of the Angels while images of humans in need flash across their screens.', 'time': '21:47 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'I like to think of it as animal conservation. If humans could have saved the dodo, we would have tried lol. Alien planets probably have their own version of Sara McLachlan in a commercial singing Arms of the Angels while images of humans in need flash across their screens.', 'time': '21:47 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Ken Cartisano': 'It figures.', 'time': '23:38 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'I wonder what their support group would look like.', 'time': '01:03 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'I wonder what their support group would look like.', 'time': '01:03 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': ""Hmm, you got me thinking, LeeAnn, yes, I believe they've been here for ages. Intriguing story on a subject I love. Well done & interesting."", 'time': '22:20 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Thank you, Joe! I'm not saying it was aliens...but aliens."", 'time': '00:48 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Joe Malgeri': ': )', 'time': '13:22 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Thank you, Joe! I'm not saying it was aliens...but aliens."", 'time': '00:48 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Joe Malgeri': ': )', 'time': '13:22 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Joe Malgeri': ': )', 'time': '13:22 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,yovaza,Echoes Of The Cosmos,Anna W,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/yovaza/,/short-story/yovaza/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fiction', 'Sad']",22 likes,"
Donna sat on the couch, legs folded under her. The afghan she was working on covered her lap and fell over the side of the couch. Taylor suppressed a sigh. Mom always worked on the blanket when she worried about something. She loved her mother’s crocheted creations, but when she saw her working on the ever-growing purple afghan, she knew something bad was brewing.“What’s wrong, Mom?” Taylor asked, sitting down next to her on the couch and pulling the blanket up over her own legs. It had grown as long as the rectangle rug that covered their small living room.“Hmm? What’s that, dear?” her mom asked, as if she hadn’t heard what Taylor said. “Mom,” Taylor said gently, laying her hand on her mother’s quick-moving fingers. “What’s wrong? You and I both know that you only work on the Blanket of Doom when something is really bothering you.” Donna dropped her hands, a frown working its way through her whole face. This pained expression that was all-too-familiar to her daughter. She blew out a short breath, squeezing the crochet hook and the blanket, still in her hands. “I just miss him, that’s all,” Donna whispered, knuckles turning white with the effort to hold the weight of her grief. Taylor leaned in to her mother, laying her head on a shoulder she’d leaned on many times in her life. “I miss him too,” Taylor agreed. She felt the familiar pang of sadness and fear that always accompanied thoughts of her father. It tightened around her heart like a vice grip, tonight. “Is this about the news, though? Just because they’ve said–” “I know what they said,” her mother interjected, “And I know what it means. They announced ‘non-human biologics’. What else could it be?” “I just don’t think we need to freak out. Mushrooms are a ‘non-human biologics,’ Mom. Heck, the people who think they saw this UFO had probably indulged in a few mushrooms, so–”  “Taylor, I saw the footage. I don’t think mushrooms were driving that craft. It didn’t move like a drone or a plane. I watched the testimonies before congress. They know something. They’ve got something and now they’re saying it. Out loud! To the public! Why would they do that? Unless… unless they–” “No, Mom. Don’t go down this rabbit hole again, please...” Taylor begged her mother. She didn’t want to see her spiral back down into the hole. She couldn’t take it. The deep, dark depression had nearly swallowed up her mother for eight months after her father’s disappearance. He had gone out to an alleged crash site, after days of scouring the rumors online for UFO sightings. Taylor would never forget those last few moments. “This seems promising! I’ll be back by dinner, kiddo. Don’t start without me,” he had said, kissing Taylor on the forehead. He hugged Donna, who was terse because she didn’t want him to go. She turned her head, letting him kiss her on the cheek, before he left. “They’re not all your responsibility, Daniel,” she called out after him, when he was halfway down the driveway. He turned his head and smiled at her. They’d had many conversations like this before. Dad was never one to neglect his duty, though. “Unity is the constellation of harmony, my love,” he had called back lovingly, a gleam of light twinkled in his eye. Taylor knew that her mother still felt guilty about this exchange. She often reminded her mother that this last exchange wasn’t representative of their relationship. Taylor had basked in the warmth of the love that radiated out from her parents. Because of their love for each other, her home was a refuge of support. They were a bastion of hope for their people, despite all the turmoil. High school turmoil seemed laughable now. It often does, when you graduate and realize there are much bigger worlds out there. But at the time her father disappeared, Taylor was on the cusp of her high school graduation. It had been her biggest concern.She avoided the mean girls, who picked up on every unspoken insecurity like it was a competition to see who could spot the most weaknesses in others. She always struggled at first, to blend in, but eventually found a place. She relaxed amongst a few peers in the middle of the weird social hierarchy in her rural high school. She learned. Observed. Blending in was their primary goal, after all. Her mother’s gentle hand on her cheek brought her back to the present. “I’ve worried you, dear. I’m sorry. I just… I’ve been thinking about it for days now, and it’s the only thing that makes sense. They’ve finally figured it out, and now they’re going to announce to the world that aliens have landed on earth.” Donna’s mouth grimaced and her eyes brimmed over with tears. Taylor’s own tears cascaded down her cheeks in response. She couldn't bear to see her mother cry.“Surely not. If they’ve had him all this time, that means– No. Maybe he just...” She choked on the words.“My darling, your father would never leave us. He didn’t get in an accident. A single human could never have hurt him. Not with their under-evolved muscles and over-evolved confidence. I went to exactly the spot he had mapped out, to check on the fallen craft. He said it looked like the Zephyr Mariner craft that brought us here 25 years ago. Same flight pattern. Same speed.” “Do you think he’s been in a cell for the past year being interrogated? Or in some kind of terrible lab being poked and prodded?” Taylor shuddered at the thought. Bile rose in her throat every time her mind went down this road. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” her mother said, her voice becoming gentler. “I pray to Cosmonir every day that he didn’t get caught. That if he got into trouble, he found a way to get to a safe place. Or a way to use the craft to communicate with home and get some reinforcements. We checked everywhere around the reported area that people saw the craft, though, and… nothing. Not even a scrap of metal, just another crop circle. Not the right pattern, so it was probably done by bored teenagers.” Donna’s eyes fell back to her hands as she continued crocheting the Blanket of Doom. The grief sank in Taylor’s chest as she sat in the sea of purple. She thought this feeling would get better over time, but it never really did. She always felt the same crushing dread that her father was being tortured somewhere. She sometimes had nice dreams of her home planet but those usually melted into nightmares of being strapped to a gurney and poked with needles. Sometimes it was crowds of people in S.W.A.T. gear busting into their home and dragging them away. Though she was born on Earth, Taylor often dreamed of Luminara. A world of light, peace, and untold beauty. Or at least, that’s what her parents told her. Her childhood memories brimmed with stories of their home planet. Tales of rolling oceans made of colorful flowers and vines. Massive ships made of bright silver metals, sailing atop them as they undulated in the breeze. Trees as tall as skyscrapers, always teeming with life. Many millennia of peace amongst her people.Taylor often dreamed of her father on her home planet, but she wasn’t sure why. She had told her mother about these dreams at first. She assumed her subconscious was working through grief and hiding them inside the beauty of the stories she’d heard her whole life. Perhaps her mind was trying to cover the horrific grief of the loss of her father, with the beauty of a world where he still existed. If only in her mind. Her dreams eventually started upsetting her mother though, so Taylor kept them to herself these days. They were silent for several minutes, with the news muted on the living room television. A 24-hour news show was on. A terrible invention, really. Whose idea was it to broadcast the worst of human’s challenges and then speculate about the worst possible ways these things could turn out? Anything for ratings, these days. Taylor and Donna sat in silence for a few moments. “I am grateful for the time I had with you and dad. And the time you and I have had together, since… you know… since he’s been gone. I’m not glad he’s gone of course,” Taylor stuttered through her sappy speech, her mom nodding along. She understood. “But I want to say that sometimes– it’s just that sometimes I wish we’d never come here. I wish you and dad weren’t given this assignment, and that I’d been born on Luminara. Maybe he’d still be with us then…” Donna grasped Taylor's face, leaning in until their foreheads touched. Tears stained the purple yarn an even deeper hue.“Taylor. Darling. I understand why you feel that way. I think about that all the time! It’s okay to feel how you feel, grief is not linear. You’ll take some steps forward and then sometimes you’ll take some steps backward. You'll never love your father less, just because he's gone. But you will get stronger. It won't always be so consuming..."" she trailed off, and then ducked her chin. ""Look, I’m sorry, I’m not saying this well. Your dad was the Communication Specialist, not me.” Taylor rolled her eyes and chuckled at her mom’s corny joke. Dad’s specialty had been building and using communication equipment, not communicating with words. Although, he did always seem to know the right words to say. She knew her mother was trying to lighten the mood.“All I’m saying,” Donna continued on, ‘is that we came here with a purpose. We have to watch the humans and report if they are getting close to creating technology that would allow them to travel in space. We’ve seen what they do when they discover something new, so we can’t allow them to have access to Luminara. Not yet. Not until they decide to become a more peaceful species.” “I know, I know. Unity is the constellation of harmony,” Taylor said robotically.Taylor felt the struggle of a war within herself. She wanted to comfort her mother, but also wanted to share her own fears. She wanted to abandon the mission, but it was all she'd ever known. She wanted to go back to before he disappeared. She wished she could time travel back to the days when all she had to worry about was physics homework and mapping out a path to working at NASA.The war inside of her continued raging. She kept her lips sealed against the onslaught of fear and doubt that wanted to pour out of her.Donna could feel the shift in Taylor, the stress building. She leaned in to her daughter, tucking her under her arm, and placing Taylor's head back on her shoulder. Even at eighteen years old, Taylor breathed in the comfort of her mother's embrace. She'd never take it for granted. Not when it could be gone in an instant.“I am worried too, sweetheart. All we can do is wait, though. I’ve been checking the message boards for chatter spikes, every day. I check the safety point once a week to make sure he isn’t there. We haven’t had any activity on the Stellar Transceiver since the night your father… disappeared.” Donna’s breath hitched on the word. “Why aren’t they communicating with us, though? Shouldn’t we tell them he’s disappeared and get some help or something?” Taylor asked, hopeful for more connections to her homeworld. Hopeful that they’d have the power to find him and bring him home. “It doesn’t work that way, my sweet girl. We send the right signals out, only if the humans seem like their technology is growing to the point of danger. We don’t get signals back, unless they are extracting us. It’s too risky, otherwise. Your father and I knew we were accepting a lifelong mission when we came here. I know it’s hard, and I know it’s had consequences for you as well. But… even so,” her mother said, her voice becoming stronger and more stoic, “We must continue on. We must not be distracted, dragged away, deluded, delayed, or denied from completing the mission at hand. We are…” She looked at Taylor, eyebrows raising expectantly. Taylor knew it by heart, as she’d repeated the mantra with her parents every night before bed. “We are silent spectators. Invisible inquisitors. Whispering watchers. Vigilantly veiled visitors. Unseen observers. Star dwellers in shadows. Camouflaged and cautious. We are unearthly and unseen. We are the echoes of the cosmos.” A notice came across the screen of the TV, and caught both of their attention. The president was going to be holding a press conference and making some sort of announcement, in a few hours. Donna and Taylor exchanged a look that was a mix of heavy emotions. They both had an eagerness for answers, and felt the dread of what those answers would mean for their family, and the families of the many worlds beyond earth.The aliens had already landed on earth long ago, but have the humans finally figured it out?They would watch and see. 
","August 10, 2023 05:58","[[{'Scott Christenson': 'Great story! ""Whose idea was it to broadcast the worst of human’s challenges and then speculate about the worst possible ways these things could turn out?"" A great observation I see someone else also pointed out.  ""BBC/CNN/Fox news, all the worst things in the world today in 10 minutes..."" \n\nFor the critique circle feedback, not much to add here as your prose is pitch perfect, and you have a great twist at the end. Maybe early on, having some type of confrontation/action involving Taylor and Donna might have increased the tension (but not su...', 'time': '04:33 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': 'Thank you for your feedback Scott!', 'time': '13:42 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Anna W': 'Thank you for your feedback Scott!', 'time': '13:42 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Sudarshan Varadhan': 'Your storytelling shines as you expertly capture the complex emotions and connections between Donna and Taylor. The interplay of ordinary activities and the weight of extraordinary circumstances creates a touching and thought-provoking narrative. Your ability to balance these elements makes the story both engaging and emotionally resonant. Thanks for this', 'time': '19:57 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': ""Wow, thank you so much for this feedback Sudarshan. You're too kind!"", 'time': '14:57 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Anna W': ""Wow, thank you so much for this feedback Sudarshan. You're too kind!"", 'time': '14:57 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': 'Perfectly written, Anna, admirable concepts displaying strong futuristic possibilities.', 'time': '19:01 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': 'Thank you Joe! :)', 'time': '01:00 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Anna W': 'Thank you Joe! :)', 'time': '01:00 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kandi Zeller': '""Whose idea was it to broadcast the worst of human’s challenges and then speculate about the worst possible ways these things could turn out?"" Loved this description!', 'time': '18:37 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': 'There’s always some truth in fiction 😂😝 thank you!!', 'time': '03:13 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Anna W': 'There’s always some truth in fiction 😂😝 thank you!!', 'time': '03:13 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': ""That was a neat twist! Initially, I got the sense that a misguided UFO enthusiast got in over his head, and ended up being right or something, but here we learn the truth is much bigger. \n\nThe aliens do pass seamlessly as humans. They've integrated well and clearly done their homework. That Taylor was even preoccupied with high school at one point attests to that. And her ambitions to work at NASA - that's an interesting thought. Makes sense for a lifelong recon mission. \n\nThanks for sharing!"", 'time': '20:44 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': 'Thank you Michal! I appreciate you reading the story and always appreciate your feedback!', 'time': '22:28 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Anna W': 'Thank you Michal! I appreciate you reading the story and always appreciate your feedback!', 'time': '22:28 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Wonderful depiction of the way it could be. Well written.\nThanks for liking my version.', 'time': '15:55 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': 'Thanks for reading, Mary! I appreciate your kind comment!', 'time': '19:31 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Anna W': 'Thanks for reading, Mary! I appreciate your kind comment!', 'time': '19:31 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'This is really cool Anna. The reveal halfway through caught me off guard. I like the way you put it out there casually, not making a big revelation about it. And the whole conversation then changes. Smartly done and well written!', 'time': '10:00 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Anna W': 'Thanks Derrick!! I appreciate your kind words!', 'time': '14:07 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Anna W': 'Thanks Derrick!! I appreciate your kind words!', 'time': '14:07 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,kdjwst,Cathyheimer,Scott Christenson,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/kdjwst/,/short-story/kdjwst/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative']",22 likes,"
Cathy nudged up her Vint & York Adeline glasses as she studied the data on her screen. It was unmistakable. A signal.Until that moment, Cathy had believed the future of the planet to was hopeless. Global warming, inequality, pollution, the mistreatment of animals–so many issues. And there was no way out. People were too driven by their own selfish desires.But what if we received help from another race of intelligent beings? One that travelled the stars would know how to transform this planet into a truly sustainable ecosystem. Following first contact protocol–each person at SETI kept it in a laminated binder on their desk–she alerted the US Air Force. A dozen F-16s were scrambled to protect the nation’s airspace. The the other 98% of the earth’s surface area would have to fend for itself.**On The Hand of God, currently circling this system's fourth planet, Booba leaned back in his chair and put all eight feet on the starship’s control panel. After the hard work of choosing which BlodChat reply to send to this planet—the AI had produced 27 different translations–he did the Bloderian equivalent of flipping a coin, and chose one randomly. Exhausted, he was ready to start another gaming session.On the game menu, he selected a flamethrower and began poking his tentacles around corners, searching for two-legged pests to exterminate. Oh how he enjoyed first-bloderian-shooters. Perhaps it was the visceral thrill of blasting away at bipeds. He would try to get over his distate on the current assignment. Visualization was key. He would imagine them as normal creatures with shiny exoskeletons and multiple legs and tentacles.**Cathy, despite her gloomy views on the future of the planet, maintained a flowery disposition with people, one nurtured growing up in the beautiful pine covered foothills of Boulder Colorado. Far away from the ravages of the mining industry in the west and the blight of industrialization in the east.She looked at the decoded alien message. The words were in English but they didn't make any sense.“There must be a coded message in this. The Taliban hid their messages into the pixels of jpeg photos,” she said to the large and growing team in SETI’s office.Behind he loomed General Sputz. The military was now trying to muscle in on the action at SETI and capture the glory of first contact. “We need answers.” He looked around at everyone else. “No one slacks off until we get to the bottom of this.”General Sputz grew up in Akron under the merciless eye of an abusive father. He lacked Cathy’s positive outlook. But he knew better than to blame his parents, so he blamed the toxic pollution in Ohio’s drinking water.They both studied the message again:Smoked like baconFeel our soundAll for takingLift your handsBooba is your manThis friday nightMake my dayCathy wondered why an alien race would communicate in meaningless nonsense. Another man cleared his throat. Professor Hall, the linguist from Berkeley, spoke up. “78% of the radio transmissions from Earth that leave the solar system are music. This message looks like pop music, doesn't it?”Cathy groaned. “So…decades of SETI broadcasts sending earth's knowledge to alien planets, was drowned out by Top 40 radio.”“From the lyrics, I’d say the pop music of the 90s. Space travel has a time shift. If the aliens didn't know anything else, they would think pop music was our main form of communication.”“Sad,“ Cathy said. She was trying to stay composed while watching someone else uncover the mysteries of first contact. “What do you think it means?” “His name is Booba, and he’s looking for a date Friday night.”General Sputz was now staring at Cathy oddly. “Date night. You're the best looking woman here. Are you willing to serve your country?”“What do you mean by that?!” Cathy said incredulously.“Save the world. Think about it?”“I am a scientist,” she said, looking at this General in his polyester uniform with even greater disdain than before.**The next day, they sent the message they laboriously wrote together:‘Thank you for paying homage to our 1990s pop music. We would like to invite you to meet our leader at the White House on Friday.’The reply was quick. The voice of an alien was heard by earth for the first time. “I’m meeting Madonna? And why did it take you so long to reply?” spoke the deep, resonant voice.“Sorry, it took us time to understand the message. And we have a new leader now.”“A new leader, let’s celebrate. You should throw a party for Booba on Friday.”The ground began shaking, an earthquake. SETI's office was close to the San Andreas, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence. “Did you do something?” she asked Booba the alien.He chuckled.Cathy glanced at General Sputz. His face was ashen. He leaned over and whispered, “Tell him yes. We’ll throw him a party on Friday.”**On The Hand of God, Booba tinkered with the control panel while thinking about what he should wear to the party. The earthquake he triggered in Northern California had gotten their attention. He wanted make an even grander entrance on Friday.Booba had studied their history and wanted to give Hiroshima a break this time around. They were treated so unfairly in the past. “How about we nuke Antarctica as our opening act?” he said to his assistant Zagbed. ""The tidal wave would be 100 meters tall.""His assistant found it challenging to disagree with his boss, but he mumbled, “The way they party might be different than yours, boss.” Zagbed cowered, prepared to dart from any weapon discharge in his direction.“Just because you don’t know how to loosen up, doesn’t mean they don’t,” Booba roared. He believed he and Zagbed had the sort of friendly employee-manager relationship in which one could be utterly frank without any hard feelings.Zagbed inched for the door.**After the alien caused an earthquake in California, General Sputz knew things on earth would never be the same again. It was an alien feeling to no longer be in charge of the world's most powerful military. He wondered what type of party Booba might be expecting. This was out of his wheelhouse. He would need to rope in the Pentagon’s cultural diversity team.**Cathy, at first repulsed by the General’s suggestion that she should be Earth’s alien dating escort, now toyed with the idea. She remembered her childhood aspiration to improve the planet. And, what would it be like to be the first wife of an alien race? This could be a historic act affecting future generations. A sea change in the perceptions of extraterrestrial marriage.She made up her mind. But first, she needed to know what Booba looked like.**Booba received a request for a photo on a private radio frequency. But sending selfies was not the Bloderian way. Most non-Bloderians had only a millisecond to look a Bloderian in the eyes before they were exterminated.But due to the labor shortage, the bureaucrats back home insisted Booba not get trigger happy, and he didn’t want to spend another 100 years doing community service. So as a compromise, he asked the ship's AI–trained on signals received in the 1990s– to make a recommendation. A deep fake photo based on David Hasselhoff, with “From, Booba” handwritten in red lipstick on it.**The next day, the first thing the General noticed was Cathy dressed much nicer than usual. She smiled at the General as if she knew something that he didn't. “I'll speak to the alien first. Quiet everyone!” Cathy said. When there was silence in the command center, she switched on her microphone. “Good morning, Booba. We are all looking forward to meeting you Friday. We would be eternally grateful for any help you could give us with the pressing needs of our planet, such as CO2 emissions—”The deep, powerful voice of the alien cleared his throat. “Excuse me. We can cover the nitty-gritty...“ Booba said, “After we get to know each other better. First, we need to agree on your nation’s unconditional surrender, so there will be nothing to ruin the mood on Friday.”Cathay blinked furiously a few times. “Unconditional surrender?” she said. “I'm going to have to pass you to the General.” The phrase ‘the buck stops here’ went through the General’s mind, and then panic set in. If he surrendered, his name could be attached to the most shameful event in United States history. Last century’s word for a traitor was Benedict Arnold. Would 'General Spitz' be next century’s eponym for being a shameful disgrace?Sputz picked up the microphone. “We are prepared to...cooperate.” “Cooperate, means surrender?”“We will do what you want from us.”“Unconditionally?”General Sputz thought of something intelligent to say at this historical moment. Such as Douglas Armstrong’s famous quote from the moon. He thought some more, and then simply said, “We’ll try our best.”**Booba wondered why this man kept talking in circles. He was fairly certain he used the right words. Perhaps some things just don’t translate. It didn’t matter. The big decisions had already been made.“Let’s move on. Surrender, Cooperate. It’s all the same to us.”Bloderians had their own protocol to follow when conquering alien planets. He pulled up his 13-pages of notes and began going through the bullet points.**Cathy listened to Booba rattle off details about which documents needed to be signed by whom. The right order to shake all eight hands of the conquering General. How they would go about transferring the national savings to the Central Bank of Bloderia. Booba was speaking so fast, it was obvious, he was just trying to get this over with.There was a pause, and then Booba said, “And, to make it all easier, you’ll soon be getting help from Bangladesh. We have been training their civil service in implementing our Bloderian regulations.”“Implementing?”“You know, collecting taxes, calculating the correct minutes of the day to show homage to the Bloderian Gods, enforcing the 29-day work week, special benefits for the 8-legged population, stuff like that…”“A 29-day work week? Bangladesh is ok with this?”“The first class of trainees finished our 3-year civil servant training program. They didn’t complain.”  How were people in Bangladesh being trained by an alien civilization without anyone knowing about it? Cathay wondered if the CIA had put so much effort into spying on Russia and China, they missed a spaceport in Bangladesh.“Can we receive training too?” Cathy asked. She wondered if her plan for intergalactic marriage needed acquiring some new skills.“Sorry. The training manuals have only been translated into Bengali. Their grammar for postpositions is similar to ours.” Booba said. “Moving on. The last item I’m obliged to inform you of today is…we will be extracting the iron from your earth's core, so your planet may experience some shrinkage.”“Shrinkage?”“Yes. The earthquakes get a little rough. On the positive side, lower gravity is great for parties. Do you acknowledge our terms and conditions.”Instinctively, Cathy said “yes"", before she had time to realize what she was signing up for.Many have reported experiencing a sudden moment of clarity in their life. An instant when suddenly their entire perception changes. Cathy experienced that while watching the flickering neon dot of the alien spaceship orbiting Mars on her screen. Cathy switched allegiance. She now believed humanity was Earth’s only hope. **Epilogue:Booba cancelled his RSVP to the party at the last minute, citing important political developments. In fact, he just wanted to finish the last level of the Battle of Lookai, the game he was currently playing.The civil servants from Bangladesh arrived the next week. When there was push back on the 29-day workweek, Booba put in the time to launch anti-matter torpedoes at a dozen major military installations. After that, everyone fell into line. In coming years, the Bangladeshis would often remind others about their special communication line to the Bloderians upstairs. There was a theory they might be making it up and simply deciding things on their own, but no one wanted to test it. The people of earth learned to follow all the new Bloderian regulations according to the manuals coming out of Bangladesh.After the entire planet's surrender, the US military continued to spend trillions of dollars defending the nation against threats that didn't exist except on Flox News. General Spitz proudly wore the same polyester uniform that he always had before. He and the military successfully denied that they had anything to do with the nation’s surrender.Cathy’s life would set off on a different trajectory. She would relocate to the new planet’s capital of Dhaka, learn Bengali, and then over time, working within the system, build a resistance movement that would build the world's first nuclear space laser. This weapon would one day free the planet from the ravages of the Bloderian mining industry and put it back into the hands of Australians. Luckily for the Bangladeshis, by Independence Day 2065, the world’s population had become so used to following Bloderian regulations that, even after the roll back to a 5-day work week, they kept their iron grip on middle management positions for the centuries to follow.
","August 10, 2023 10:05","[[{'Sudarshan Varadhan': ""I must say, it's quite an imaginative and creative piece! You've managed to blend elements of sci-fi, humor, and social commentary into an engaging story. The concept of Earth making contact with an alien race through misunderstood pop music lyrics is both amusing and thought-provoking. The storyline, especially the twist involving the true intentions of the aliens, adds depth to the narrative. The way you've incorporated themes like bureaucracy, resistance, and even the implications of surrender and cooperation gives your story layers of me..."", 'time': '20:01 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': 'Thanks for reading and commenting, Yes, I like to have a heavy dose of comedy in these types of stories to make it a bit lighter.', 'time': '06:58 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': 'Thanks for reading and commenting, Yes, I like to have a heavy dose of comedy in these types of stories to make it a bit lighter.', 'time': '06:58 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': 'So hilarious, and totally reminiscent of the Vogons in the ""Hitchhiker\'s"" canon. It was so fresh to find a tale that didn\'t center on America or Russia as the lynchpin country, and I found Boola to be eerily similar to Zaphod Beeblebrox in manner. In fact, the whole thing felt like a Douglas Adams short story, and written with his expertise. I enjoyed this tale immensely, my friend. Superb!\n\nCheers!', 'time': '14:40 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks for reading! Booba isn't a Vogon, but Zaphod was def a big influence in creating the character of a very egocentric alien with more weapons than maturity."", 'time': '14:52 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks for reading! Booba isn't a Vogon, but Zaphod was def a big influence in creating the character of a very egocentric alien with more weapons than maturity."", 'time': '14:52 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Tommy Goround': 'It was funny.', 'time': '12:55 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': ""thanks, i just sped up the beginning a bit. wish i could figure out what reality dating with an alien would look like, or else booba would't have to cancel lol."", 'time': '13:21 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': ""thanks, i just sped up the beginning a bit. wish i could figure out what reality dating with an alien would look like, or else booba would't have to cancel lol."", 'time': '13:21 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Just love all these various theories🤩. All you sci-fi guys are really flexing your alien bones.👽🛸🤣🦾', 'time': '00:13 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': ""Had to pull out my old hitchiker's guide to the galaxy mindset, and jump in for the first alien contact prompt;)"", 'time': '03:30 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': ""Had to pull out my old hitchiker's guide to the galaxy mindset, and jump in for the first alien contact prompt;)"", 'time': '03:30 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Amusing :) But of course, it\'s true - real human culture is measured in pop hits and sitcoms. Hmm, and dare I say, reality TV. \n\nThe twist with Bangladesh is neat. We naturally assume our first contact is *the* first contact, but there\'s billions of other people around and we\'re not always the hero. \n\n""handwritten in red lipstick on it"" :) \n\n""people in Bangladesh being trained by an alien civilization without anyone knowing about it"" :) \n\nAll things considered, it sounds like they were lucky Booba didn\'t just blow everything up, so… kind of ...', 'time': '22:33 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks for reading. Maybe a bit too hectic and  too many ideas going on in this story.  I do like the play with the very anglo centric assumptions out there about the world and alien first contact. Happy that the Bangladesh bit landed.  Yeah Booba is sort of an alien slacker warlord. I didn't have the creativity to flesh out what a party scene involving him would really look like but it would be ugly."", 'time': '02:30 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks for reading. Maybe a bit too hectic and  too many ideas going on in this story.  I do like the play with the very anglo centric assumptions out there about the world and alien first contact. Happy that the Bangladesh bit landed.  Yeah Booba is sort of an alien slacker warlord. I didn't have the creativity to flesh out what a party scene involving him would really look like but it would be ugly."", 'time': '02:30 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'As a fellow writer who loves to embrace different POVs - I\'m going to tell you what I hated to hear just because I had to embrace it even though I didn\'t want to. ""Changing POV never works in a short story. It is fine for a novel."" That was what I have been told for the last three stories I have tried to put different POfVs into my stories. \nHaving said that if that is what you want to do I say, ""Keep it and stick with it! I am always for the underdog. \nCool idea and cool story Scott. LF6', 'time': '13:55 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks for thinking about the POV issue, yeah I'll get back to single POV next time. It kind of limits world building, but makes a story easier to read and more emotionally impactful."", 'time': '03:29 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks for thinking about the POV issue, yeah I'll get back to single POV next time. It kind of limits world building, but makes a story easier to read and more emotionally impactful."", 'time': '03:29 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kevin Logue': 'A fun trip Scott! Would never have consideres Bangladesh as the adminstrative capital of the new world but there you go. And of course Booba would try to pass himself off as the Hoff. Here\'s hoping we never party with Bolderians, nukes at a party never end well. Ha!\n\nThe head hoping, multi POVS aren\'t as bad as your comment suggests. It read coherently for me, if anything a little rushed at the end.\n\nA few small edits I noticed -\n\n""...SETI had it in a laminated in a binder on their desk–and...""\n\n""Cathay glanced at General Sputz. ""\n\n""Cathay w...', 'time': '11:56 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks! Those edits are super useful. I'll give my brain a rest overnight and I'll have another look through before the deadline tomorrow."", 'time': '12:15 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Scott Christenson': ""Thanks! Those edits are super useful. I'll give my brain a rest overnight and I'll have another look through before the deadline tomorrow."", 'time': '12:15 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Anna W': 'This story gave me “hitchhikers guide” vibes in the best way. I enjoyed the subtle comedic tones, in the face of a dire alien invasion. I’m devastated to know that the 24 hr news cycle (Flox news) would survive even a world takeover. \n\nThanks for this great story, Scott! I’m following you now and look forward to reading more!', 'time': '14:04 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Katy B': 'Your world building is very successful! Thank you for sharing, Scott!', 'time': '23:57 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Scott Christenson': ""Still editing this, it involves a great number of POV changes and head hopping that i'm still trying to untangle into an easy to read linear story. Any edits or suggestions highly welcome."", 'time': '10:10 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,mvo179,The Human Invasion,Matthew Ruiz,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/mvo179/,/short-story/mvo179/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction', 'Suspense']",22 likes,"
	Connor stared at his laptop in shocked silence. The blood in his veins seemed to be replaced by ice water and he could feel all of the color drain from his face like in those cartoons he watched as a kid. Except this time he wasn't a kid and the scene he watched play out on the screen was not as cartoonish as one might be led to believe. His phone buzzed somewhere on the couch  beside him and his hand glided across the leathery surface, searching, as he could not unglue his eyes from what he was seeing. His fingers wrapped around his phone and he answered without looking.
	“Yea”. 
	“Con, are you watching the news?”  The words seem to come out all at once, using whatever little breath the person on the other line could muster. 
	Connor’s mind was not present, though, and he barely registered the voice of the person who called, so he quickly stole a glance at his phone and saw that it was his brother, Matt. 
	“Of course I am, who isn't?” Conner answered, voice completely devoid of any hint at having some actual interest in this conversation at the moment. Scrolling below the news anchor team in big white letters was the headline “Sources Confirm Alien Contact with Several World SuperPowers”. 
	“So I guess that ramp up on UFO sightings the past two months wasn't all a hoax afterall…” Matt’s voice trailed off as the anchor team was replaced by a montage of UFO pictures and videos, all having been captured from all over the world in the last few months. It wasn't rare to see them anymore, the objects were out during all hours of the day, worldwide. 
 “The president is set to hold a state of address in mere minutes…” the anchor woman's voice said in the background of a hand held video of what looked like a dozen UFO’s zipping across the sky at breathtaking speeds. 
		“Oh great”, Matt groaned animatedly, “can't wait to hear what this shithead has to say about this”. 
	For once, Connor agreed, but he was still too stunned to say anything and in truth, he was scared. He’d always believed in aliens, had even had several heated debates about the topic with friends and family, but he never thought he would see the day when they would actually arrive on Earth. His heart was beating faster than he ever felt, breaths coming in shorter and shorter bursts, and he was starting to feel dizzy. 
	“Con! Are you there?”, Matt asked, irritated with Connor’s lack of response. 
	“Sorry, Matt, I’m just not feeling well,” Connor said in between breaths, resting his elbow on his knee and head in hand, gripping the phone like his life depended on it. 
	There was a short pause on the other end and then, “It’s ok, I get it, bro. This is fucking crazy…oh the president is coming on now!” 
	Connor put Matt on speaker and placed the phone down on the coffee table in front of him, tapping the volume button on his laptop to put it up. It was still low by normal standards but it boomed in his ears as the president came on screen. Connor winced in pain and lowered the volume, settling into his couch, feeling more sick by the minute. President Cooper was a tall, handsome man in his early fifties, and his whole platform was built on his calm and collective manner. He looked anything but at this moment. 
	“Great,” he could hear Matt mutter through the phone, “this guy”. 
	“Good evening, My fellow Americans. By now, you have all been aware of the rapid increase in UFO sightings over the last two months and the mist-like substance that these vehicles have been dispersing among the population. Our intelligence agencies have been hard at work and in constant communication with other countries all over the world, trying to get answers and understand what exactly is going on. Up until yesterday we were unable to get answers, but then….we were contacted.”
	He paused here, not for dramatic effect or because he was having a hard time reading the teleprompter. President Cooper was doing all he could to keep the tears that pooled at the bottom of his eyes from falling onto his face. If Connor had not felt like total crap at the moment, he would have felt sorry for him, but his head was killing him and his eyes were having a hard time focusing. He blinked furiously as the president composed himself and continued. 
 “Yesterday, several world leaders were contacted by Extraterrestrial beings, in numbers larger than we could have imagined. After a few short hours it became quite clear that they have no intention nor are inclined to entertain any negotiations on behalf of any individual country or the planet. Now, as president of the United States, it is my sole responsibility to tell you, my fellow citizens, that we will fight this threat as we have all others and that there is no need to panic.`` 
	President Cooper paused, and that calmness he was consistently praised for took control of his entire body.
 “But the truth…the real truth is that it will all be in vain. The ETs have been spreading a deadly pathogen across the skies. If you or anyone you know has come into direct contact with that…”
	Connor wasn’t listening anymore, it really didn’t matter. His eyes hurt so much he couldn’t keep them open and his body had gone completely numb. The only thing that seemed to work normally was his hearing, albeit at a much more sensitive level. 
	“Connor!”, he could hear Matt calling his name as if he were sitting beside him, but Connor couldn’t move at all. “Con, you’re scaring me man, didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?” 
	Connor focused his hearing outside of the apartment. It was an odd sensation, like clogging one ear while you put the other to a door to hear through the other side. Except now, those sounds weren’t muffled. He could clearly hear his neighbors across the hall, Mike and his girlfriend Jess, packing frantically, moving around their apartment as if it was on fire. Jess was on the phone talking to her mother, trying to figure out a place to meet up and hunker down together. Mike was on the phone as well, whispering to his ex-fiancé about how badly he wanted to be with her. 
	Gunshots echoed loudly from somewhere outside the window, but for Connor that bullet might as well have lodged itself in the back of his skull because his head felt like it split in half with pain. He fell to his knees, squeezing his head in between his hands, crying out with every ounce of his body it hurt. His blood now ran boiling hot like lava scorching its way through his body and destroying everything it touched. His heart beat so hard he swore he could see it hitting his chest when he tore off his shirt and looked down. His eyes burned and tears streamed down his face freely like an overflowing sink. 
	Then it stopped. 
	The episode was over as quickly as it began and Connor laid out on his floor panting and more afraid than he had ever felt in his life. His body calmed quickly, however, and he was able to sit up with relative ease and surprise at how well he was feeling. He had overturned his table during his spurt of madness, so he crawled over to find his phone and laptop. 
	“Matt?”Connor said, “you there?”. 
	“Uh..yea Con. What the fuck was that?” He sounded scared and Connor couldn't blame him, but he was better now. Wasn't he?
	“I don't know, but it's over now, I feel fine. Listen, the world is going to go to shit. I can hear it already outside my window. Am I going to you or you coming to me?”
	“Were you exposed to the UFO mist, Con?” Matt asked, a seriousness in his voice that Connor had rarely heard. 
	Connor hesitated to answer the question and he wasn't sure why. He trusted his brother, knew he would never rat him out. If he was asking it had to be for good reason. 
	“Yea, I was, a few nights ago on my way back from your place. They were all over the sky, Matt, coming down really low too. At first I just thought it was raining, but now, thinking back on it, it had to be the stuff coming from the UFOs.” 
	It wasn't until he said it out loud that the magnitude of the situation began to make sense in his mind and the implications hit him like a runaway train. 
	“Get back on your laptop, Con, now.”
	Connor grabbed his laptop and opened it up, refreshing the news channel it was on. The president was still on. In fact, Connor was stunned to realize that only a few minutes had gone by since his whole thing had started. He zoned his hearing to focus solely on the laptop, unsure of when he had figured that out. 
 “We have identified the mist as a biological weapon that the ET’s have told us will change the biology of those it has affected to the detriment of the major population. Anyone who has been affected, please, stay inside and call the number down below, and if anyone knows or sees anyone-”
	The screen went black.
	Connor could hear as the world around him gasped in surprise or screamed out in fear. His laptop was completely dead, which made no sense as the charger was plugged in. He checked his phone and it was dead also. His hearing pierced the walls of his apartment and he could hear the entire building coming alive as all the tenants scrambled in panic, wanting to get out. 
	Connor was unsure what his next move should be. He was affected by the bio weapon the aliens had spread, of that he was sure. The president had specifically detailed that people like him should stay inside, not only for their safety but the rest of the population as well. They also had a number that he had not recognized nor was he stupid enough to call it and turn himself in. Anyone with a brain could determine what would happen if you called that number. 
	Connor stood from the couch feeling stronger than he ever had before, an energy coursing through his entire body begging to be released. His ears detected a sound by his door, like someone was tugging at the door knob. 
 God, he thought, the world is ending and people immediately start becoming assholes. He took long powerful strides to the door and reached it just as it exploded inward, just inches from slamming into his body. The first thing he saw was the gun, right in his face, and he somehow was able to hyperfocus on the finger starting to squeeze the trigger.
	Connor casually dipped his head away from the gun just as the bullet came flying out. His left hand shot out to grab the invaders gun, ripping it out his hands, and his right hand shot out into the man’s face. He dropped cold into the hallway, leaving Connor standing in the doorway holding a gun for the first time in his entire life. He studied it and had this overwhelming feeling that he didn't need it, that it would be wrong to use. He tossed it back onto his couch and stepped out into the hallway. He couldn't stay home, no matter what the president had ordered, he wouldn't be a sitting duck. Besides, he felt completely fine. 
	As he moved down the hall to the stairway he could hear people rushing down the steps, making their way slowly down. It was then he realized that there were no lights on in the entire building. He looked up at the ceiling and down the hall. He could see the fixtures but no illumination and it did nothing to deter his vision. 
 What in the hell, he thought to himself, shaking his head and pushing himself into the stairway with the humans who were struggling to make it down without hurting themselves. 
 Humans. That was a weird thing to call them. Aren't I human?
	As he moved around the people his body began to throb, not painfully, but knowingly. It was alerting Connor that there was something he was supposed to be doing. It wasn't until he exited the building and entered into a world of chaos of apocalyptic proportions that he understood. People were running everywhere and others were chasing them, moving insanely fast and not like humans at all. Buildings and cars were burning all around them, a person ran by completely engulfed in flames, his screams making Connor cringe like someone scratching a chalkboard. 
	The screaming, the fighting, the dying, it was all too much for him. It was enough to drive a person…but he wasn't a person now. He could feel it right now, in the midst of all of this, he could feel himself removed from it all. He was not afraid, nor did he shy away from all the destruction. His body felt stronger because of it, excited by the revelation that he was no longer human. 
	“Con!” The voice sounded familiar, even the name seemed to hold some kind of meaning. 
	“Matt”, came the response, quiet and emotionless as if the word meant nothing. But the being that now stood in Connor’s body did not care to try to unravel the sudden mystery of what this encounter meant. He did, however, wish to satisfy his need to destroy the human race. 
 
","August 11, 2023 00:24","[[{'Bea Robaina': 'I kinda need to know what happened next! Very good writing! 🤩', 'time': '23:27 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Yeeaa…I think I’ll start working on it. Thanks!', 'time': '00:10 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Yeeaa…I think I’ll start working on it. Thanks!', 'time': '00:10 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Judith Jerde': 'Excellent writing, But I think we need a sequel or maybe a pre-Qual. This sounds like a novel in the works or may be a novella.', 'time': '14:03 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks, I appreciate that! Thats what people keep saying. I think I’ve found my nanowrimo project for this year 😂', 'time': '18:56 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks, I appreciate that! Thats what people keep saying. I think I’ve found my nanowrimo project for this year 😂', 'time': '18:56 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Lynette Rodriguez': 'Left me really wanting to know what comes next. And how the infected change further.', 'time': '01:25 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thank you!', 'time': '13:41 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thank you!', 'time': '13:41 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Tess Bandura': '🔥🔥🔥', 'time': '21:31 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks!', 'time': '03:26 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks!', 'time': '03:26 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'JUSTIN SANTIAGO HOME IMPROVEMENTS': 'I felt like I was actually able to see everything that was happening vividly!', 'time': '00:05 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks!!', 'time': '00:10 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks!!', 'time': '00:10 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Anthony Lopez': 'Great Read ! I need to know what happens next! Looking forward to more work from you.', 'time': '23:52 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thank you, thank you!', 'time': '00:10 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thank you, thank you!', 'time': '00:10 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Cindy Alvarado': 'Sooo good! Can’t wait for more!', 'time': '23:18 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks!!', 'time': '00:09 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thanks!!', 'time': '00:09 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Eb Ruiz': 'Well done! You continue to impress me with your incredible talent.', 'time': '22:48 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thank you!!', 'time': '23:05 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'Thank you!!', 'time': '23:05 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,zhvzvx,The White Toblerones,Shuvayon Mukherjee,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/zhvzvx/,/short-story/zhvzvx/,Science Fiction,0,"['Romance', 'Sad', 'Science Fiction']",19 likes,"
‘Why’d you turn off the news? Do you want to talk about something?’ says Anabela, a restless finger tapping against her coffee cup, a tremor contorting the liquid. Her tone is casual, as if we’re going to delve into our usual lighthearted discussions, or laugh about our alien speculations from yesterday. But I know her tells. Her back is unnaturally stiff against the office chair and she won’t meet my eyes. Her gaze flickers around the office instead. Before responding, I glance around to make sure we’re alone, or maybe to delay the conversation as long as I can. There’s no-one in the waiting room this late in the afternoon. I spy a fresh stain on the carpet where a sick toddler threw up this morning, just before the doctor sent them to the ER. The stain is oddly symmetrical, like an inkblot my psychologist showed me once. I realise I’m feeling queasy myself.‘Okay, here it is,’ I exhale, rubbing my hands on my pants to get the sweat off. In summer we crack the windows open to keep the temperature bearable, and through them leaks the hum of traffic, the beeping of a pedestrian crossing, faraway sirens. Outside the world seems alive, but here in reception we might as well be stuck in time. The only movement is Ana’s finger and the Windows screensaver floating lazily across the computer screen behind her. I sigh again. ‘I’m leaving. I’ve asked to be relocated, and today’s my last day here. They’re moving me to the clinic across town.’Ana’s finger stops abruptly, her knuckles growing white around the cup. She raises it to her mouth, takes a long sip with her eyes closed, and swallows. I fight down a pang of guilt and watch her, distracted by the elegant curve of her neck, the stray waves of dark hair falling across her cheek, the poise she shows despite the pain. When her eyes open again, there’s a hint of moisture in them.Just as she starts to speak, a gust of hot wind rushes into the building, followed by the rolling squeak of the automatic double doors, and the cacophony outside suddenly intensifies, drowning out our conversation. The two of us whirl back to face our computers; she resumes typing, if a bit more forcefully than before, and I turn my attention to the man on crutches limping up to the counter. He wears a wide-eyed expression of excitement.‘Name, sir?’ I inquire.‘Edward Bunton,’ he replies, his rapid breaths condensing on the glass screen between us. ‘Appointment with Dr Jenkins.’ ‘Bunton…’ I murmur, clicking through my computer. ‘You hear the news, son?’I glance up at him. ‘About the aliens? Yes, sir.’‘Extraordinary, isn’t it?’ he gushes. ‘I knew it. I knew they were real.’‘Mhmm.’ My mouse clicks faster. ‘You must’ve seen Star Wars, eh? Star Trek? ET? Amazing that we can come up with all this tosh and in truth they wouldn’t look out of place in a bloody zoo. Must be chilly on their planet with all that fur, eh?’‘Dr Jenkins, you said?’ I interrupt.‘Er, yes. For three-thirty. You know, they’re saying they’ve got technology that’ll put us hundreds of years into the future. Help us make spaceships, even. Faster than light! Unbelievable.’I look at him again. His face is beet red with elation.‘You can go in now,' I direct him.He hesitates. ‘My appointment’s in fifteen minutes. Bit early, isn’t it?’I point down the hallway. ‘First door on your left.’Now looking confused, he nods to me and goes on his laboured way. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I lean over to Ana and, unwilling to touch her, I put a hand on the back of her chair. She pauses her furious typing and looks at me with dried tears etched into her cheeks. ‘Why?’ she chokes out. Another question she already knows the answer to.Seeing her upset wipes my mind clean of all the words I’d rehearsed over and over again in the shower and in front of the mirror. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I bow my head, unable to meet her gaze.‘Crosswords,’ I mumble. ‘Too many crosswords.’Confusion flickers across her features. ‘Huh?’I clear my throat. ‘Crosswords. How many have we solved together since last year? Hundreds? I love doing them with you.’Our eyes meet again, and she’s looking at me intently, like there’s something she’s searching for. She doesn’t say anything, so I ramble on.‘And before I met you, I’d never tried anything Mediterranean before. That salad your mom makes, what’s it called? Tabbouleh? I could eat it for breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, supper, even whatever you call that meal we had at 2am during that night shift.’‘Din-fast,’ she smiles. My heart skips a beat.‘I loved our din-fast. And I love the way you don’t take smack from anyone. How many rude visitors did you tell off when I didn’t have the guts to do it?’‘I told you, you shouldn’t let them just walk all over you.’I smile back. ‘When you’re around, I don’t need to worry. And as much as I hate this place,’ I gesture to the office at large, ‘I love it too, because it’s our space. I feel safe here. You make me feel safe. And you might be the only person on the planet who thinks I’m funny.’Her tears take on a different quality. ‘Toby, are you saying - ’The sound of a door creaking open cuts her off. The stooped form of Dr Jenkins emerges from his office, one hand clutching his stethoscope, the other running a hand through his wild bone-white hair. By the time he reaches reception we’re already back at our computers looking as busy as possible, as if we can somehow shield ourselves from the moment.‘Have you two seen the news?’ he exclaims.I glance at the TV on the wall in the waiting room. I’d turned it off just before telling Ana I wanted to talk to her; before that, it had been blaring CNN’s latest on the alien contact. ‘It was getting distracting.’‘Nonsense,’ he scoffs. ‘Something big has happened. You’ll want to see this.’He grabs the remote and flips the TV back to life. A reporter is standing in front of the White House, gesturing at some peculiar triangular buildings on the usually pristine green lawn. The aliens have arrayed their craft in front of the White House in a startling display of power, the reporter says, but so far it appears their intentions are benevolent. Predictably, social media has gone into a frenzy, quickly dubbing the triangular spacecraft “White Toblerones”. The news report momentarily captures my attention, a brief distraction, the words barely registering in my mind. I steal a glance at Ana from the corner of my eye; her profile is bathed in the soft glow of the office lights. She’s composed now, but her eyes still shimmer with unshed tears. ‘Toblerones? Can’t see the resemblance myself,’ Dr Jenkins grunts.‘Don’t you have a patient waiting?’ I ask him. Ana loves Toblerones. Last month, after she had a particularly rough day, I surprised her with one of the giant ones they only sell at certain confectionery stores. I recall the way she squealed with pure delight, suppressing a smile at the memory.Dr Jenkins waves a nonchalant hand at me, his attention fixed on the screen. ‘Edward can wait,’ he says. ‘His appointment hasn’t started yet, anyway.’The news report drones on for another fifteen minutes, during which I try and fail to avoid stealing glances at her. I click through my computer aimlessly as a whirlwind of emotions tugs me in different directions. Self-reproach slides through my gut like a parasite. My mind chatters incessantly, a constant stream of doubts about the ill-timed confession, at once regretful and relieved.It took me months to realise and then admit to myself how I felt. Anabela is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before: a firebrand, in the vein of her Latin mother, a romantic, a thinker, an obsessive, a quandary. She hasn’t shown me a red flag yet, but even if she did, I’d charge at it faster than a Spanish bull. There’s just one problem.‘How is Lucy, Tobias?’ Dr Jenkins asks, suddenly standing in front of my counter, the TV muted. ‘She’s great, thank you,’ I stammer back. ‘She was just promoted to partner at her law firm. I’m so proud of her.’He nods. ‘I’m not surprised. She’s extraordinary, that one.’ He looks at Ana. ‘And how is your mother, Anabela?’She turns around, lashes glistening. ‘Very well, Dr Jenkins. Sounds like the aliens are supplying us with all sorts of medical tech. You and her might both be out of a job soon.’‘Yes, perhaps,’ he chuckles. ‘Well, Tobias, we will miss you here. Some more than others, perhaps.’ His eyes dart between us as he stalks back into his office.Once we’re sure he’s gone, we exchange another meaningful glance. Heart pounding, my breath catches in my throat, and I have to force the words out. ‘I’ve realised there are some things I can’t avoid anymore,’ I say softly. ‘Even if they complicate everything.’A dozen expressions dance across her face, each more anguished than the last. At last she settles on a tearful smile. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. ‘Being friends would be easier than… ’ she trails off.I feel a warm flush in my cheeks. ‘Sorry.’‘No,’ she murmurs, her voice carrying a hint of humour. Her chest rises with a deep, steadying breath. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s complicated, and I’ve tried to push it away, but it's the truth. I feel the same way.’My animal brain almost takes control of me then. It warms my cheeks, quickens my pulse, screeches that this is when I’m supposed to kiss the girl. But my rational brain wins. It hurts, and part of me doesn’t want to, but I say it in a whisper.‘And that’s why I have to leave.’We share a moment of silent understanding, and she inclines her head, a sad smile on her lips. By the time Edward Bunton emerges from Dr Jenkins’ office, we’re both busy at our desks. I’m packing up my stationery, my spare lunch containers from Ana’s mom, my book of crossword puzzles. She deals with Bunton, shutting down his awkward attempts at conversation about the White Toblerones and ushering him out the door with a minimum of fuss.I look around the office as I leave, a space that holds so many memories, and the lump in my throat returns. We do our customary walk together back to our cars. We stop at hers first, the blue Mazda Demio with a chipped wing mirror. The earlier heat hasn’t fully faded but somehow my limbs and hands are shivering. She looks up at me uncertainly. ‘You finally told her about me, didn’t you?’‘Before this, I’d only been in love once.' Reaching into my pocket, I slip my wedding ring back on. It’s cool, but it slides back into the depression on my finger with comfort, like it never left. ‘And now it's twice. But I made a commitment to Lucy, and I have to honor that.’She studies the ring, then shakes her head. ‘You were an idiot for taking it off in the first place.’‘I wasn’t thinking.’‘No, you weren’t.’‘Somehow, it made me feel less guilty for feeling the way I do about you.’‘Sometimes I wonder if your brain is made of tabbouleh,’ she retorts. We share a chuckle. ‘I don’t know Lucy,’ she continues, ‘but I can’t do this to her. From everything you’ve told me, the way you talk about her, the way you love each other. She doesn’t deserve this.’ She takes a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know if it’s possible to love two people at once. Especially with your whole heart. So it’s okay. I understand. Sometimes you meet the right person,’ her voice breaks, ‘but someone else got there first. That’s life.’‘And that’s why we can’t talk for now.’‘No,’ she corrects me, ‘that’s why we can’t talk ever again.’The words make a physical pain in my chest. I always imagined heartbreak would feel like a tearing sensation, or the stab of a dagger, or that it would make me cry out in anguish. Instead it’s a dull ache between my ribs, like someone pulled the fibres of my myocardium and twisted them into knots. At the same time my conscience is beating on the inside of my skull, demanding why this is so difficult when it shouldn’t be. Should it?We let the silence stretch for a time, unwilling to let the moment end. Then a piercing sound from above makes us both jump and whirl around. A dark triangle emerges from the distance, gradually looming larger, until it takes shape as one of the White Toblerones streaking past at incredible speed. It passes just above us, and the reflection from the otherworldly metal is almost as bright as the sun itself, beautiful and incomprehensible. A few blinks later and it’s a speck in the distance.We turn back to each other, eyebrows raised. ‘I thought they’d be… more,’ I admit, my voice raw and unsteady. Squinting into the distance, I convince myself I can still see a dot on the fiery horizon. ‘Something more than a bus-sized triangle.’Ana sniffs. ‘That’s the problem.’We share one last glance of shared understanding that needs no words. She tilts her head and gives me that slightly wider smile that shows all of her teeth, wrinkling up her nose. The evening sun lights her skin golden, a longing wind caresses her hair, and I know she’ll never look at me that way again. 
","August 08, 2023 10:02","[[{'Amanda Lieser': 'Hi Shuvayoj,\nHoly cow I adore this story! I love that the aliens are a background thought-rather realistic, I think since so much of the world goes on in the background of our own stories. I loved how you held so much tension in the dialogue and the way your characters’ voices can through so clearly. This is a tragic lovestory that you summed up so beautifully in the line about timing. Nice work!!', 'time': '16:40 Sep 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': ""Something more... That's a universal desire within humans where we never stop wanting more and more and more. The interpretation of that basic human quality was well presented here.\n\nI'm curious, though, about why you use apostrophes instead of quotation marks for speech. Is there a reason you chose to style your story this way?"", 'time': '19:35 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Galen Gower': ""You've done a very good job here. I don't know whether I'm qualified to offer any suggestions or not, but the only thing I wanted was a little insecurity form your MC about his wife making more money or having a more advanced career. That may just be an American male insecurity, but it would add a wrinkle to the feelings that developed between the people in reception. \n\nOk, I lied, the lady in reception is a little passive. I'd be interested to see a version of the story where she's not accepting his declaration that it has to end. Have you ..."", 'time': '13:35 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kelsey H': ""This is really great, I love how the alien invasion is actually just a minor issue to Tobias, his real concern is the girl he is in love with who he can't have. I thought it was so realistic, usually the alien arrival is presented as some world stopping event, but actually even when major things happen life still has to carry on, and all your day to day concerns are still there. \n\nThe likeness of the spaceship to white toblerone was perfect and gave an easy visual without needing any lengthy explanations. Also love how you made it feel for t..."", 'time': '07:53 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Riel Rosehill': 'Hi Shuv!\n\nI always enjoy reading your work and this was no different. I\'m no sci-fi fan, but this for me had the perfect balance, the perfect amount of sci-fi sprinkled in. And I LOVE how the alien ships were called ""White Toblerones"" haha.\nThe ending dialogue I thought was excellent: something turning out to be much bigger then you thought it would, be it the White Toblerones or some feelings you shouldn\'t have towards your colleague. I was ready to give some critical critique but, got nothing. This is good! And the patient who wants to tal...', 'time': '10:29 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Katy B': ""I'm glad to see another story from you! As moving as ever :)"", 'time': '23:56 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Aeris Walker': 'Hi Shuvayon--good to see you back on Reedsy!\n\nFirst draft or not, this is great, genuinely. It\'s funny to me how this is ""Sci-fi"" but the shocking, news-breaking phenomenon of aliens landing at the white house actually takes a back seat to the drama happening within the reception area of a doctor\'s office. You do a good job making the readers care more about what\'s happening between them than what\'s being said on the news. (White Toblerones: Super clever description and title by the way.)\nI appreciate the realism in this piece. Your main cha...', 'time': '22:49 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Shuvayon Mukherjee': ""This one's a first draft right now and needs a lot of revision. It's just nice to get a story out there since it's been a while!"", 'time': '10:03 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,q8vbxt,Sand Castles,Zachery Miller,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/q8vbxt/,/short-story/q8vbxt/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fiction', 'Speculative']",19 likes,"
Two weeks after the FISH descended from the sky, we went on our first family vacation. Before their arrival, the idea of going on holiday was a pipe dream; we never had the money and my parents never had the time. The aliens came promising salvation, an end to measly work, complete freedom under their stewardship, but those promises remained unfulfilled during those interim days. The In-Between, we called it, the time between arrival and the implementation of 'paradise.' My parents took them at their word, however, and they brought us to the beach with what little money they had. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, they told me. They were right, of course.We loaded up the one beat-up car we had, a blue ‘01 Civic that sputtered and whined but never quit, and drove two hours to the coast. It’s difficult to believe I had lived so close to the ocean but had never seen it. Not once in sixteen years. It's especially strange now after having lived on its shores for so long. It's hard to imagine a world without the calming crash of waves, the pungent, nostalgic scent of brine. I don't blame my parents for waiting so long to take me. Every day was a struggle to provide, and a trip to the beach wasn’t exactly essential. Nonetheless, I envied my brother. To be a child, to play in the sand without worry... And more than anything he didn’t have that shadow, that uncertainty, hovering over him, burning holes into his back. He was a kid, innocent and free.“I’m gonna build a sand castle!” my brother said as he wiggled and squirmed next to me in the car. He repeated his mantra over and over as if each mile marker brought with it a wave of amnesia that made him forget he had already told us his vacation plans.We arrived at the beach shortly after noon and found it packed with people of every shape and size. It was a warm July afternoon; the sky was clear and a subtle breeze tickled at my skin. It is a strange feeling seeing the ocean for the first time. Looking out onto an empty expanse of water was almost unsettling, but undeniably thrilling. Out there, in the open sea, another world breathed, alive with creatures foreign and concealed. The world never felt so big. The sky was a mirror reflecting that uncertain, salty promise.We walked along the water’s edge and soon found enough room for two beach towels and our wicker basket between them. We arranged our things and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. We watched people scream with delight as they tackled the waves while others sat dour under their drooping umbrellas. That was how it was during the In-Between: some embraced a free future, and others thought it yet another shackle of misery. Hard to say who was right. My brother quickly devoured his sandwich, grabbed his small plastic pail and shovel, and ran down to an empty space near the water a few yards away. My parents laughed as they watched him construct his castle. I like to believe that they were happy, truly happy for once, watching their son build something great. Eventually they turned their minds off and laid in the sun without care for the first time in decades.I went to the water timid and shy. It was an impressive beast of a thing, the sea. It lapped at my heels, then my knees, and before I knew it I was fully embraced. I planted my feet in the sand and felt little fish nibble at my toes, the gentle press of the current as it tried to knock me over. I had never felt so present. A small piece of a puzzle put in its rightful place. And still, there was a stirring of fear. The water could take me, pull me deeper into its bosom and smother me. A shark could take a bite. A jellyfish could sting. So many things whipped through my mind but the excitement, my connection, won out. It was all so alive, and I, too, had found my place.I turned my sight to the shore and saw my brother working laboriously at his castle building. Four towers stood at each corner, connected by thick outer walls. Protruding from the middle was one giant spire of a seemingly lighter shade of stone. Lines had been carved around the walls and towers, and a comically large gate had been etched onto the side of the wall facing the ocean. Portholes were spaced out along the facade and I imagined little medieval people peeking out at the sea, weary and tired from a long day’s work. The sun caught on little fragments of stone and the light shined as though the walls were made of polished granite. It was the most glorious sand castle I’d ever seen, not that I’d seen many, admittedly. All of my brother’s love, all his passion, was poured into this masterpiece. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he dug a moat around the castle.A little boy walked up to my brother and caught his attention. The boy was probably around six or so, just like my brother, and he was pointing at the castle. My brother pointed down at the moat and the little boy smiled before dropping to his knees. They worked together on the moat and laughed and squealed as children do. The moat was deep and began to fill with water, which set off a new round of joyous squeaks.I let the sea sweep me off my feet and I floated along its rhythm. I closed my eyes and let my mind empty. The FISH, my parents, the world… It all drifted away with the waves… The peace of unthought, a ceasing of the mind's chatter... An ear piercing scream pulled me back to the sand.The little boy stood above my brother, the northeast tower of his castle caved in. My brother screamed and begged the boy to stop. He scrambled to his feet and pushed the boy, who fell down onto the western tower. The surrounding walls shattered as if under volley fire, and a chunk of the center spire broke free. I ran to the shore as quickly as I could. My parents were lying on their backs and soaking up the sun, unaware of what was happening.When I arrived, the boys were yelling at each other. I pushed them apart and asked them what had happened, to which, unsurprisingly, I got two different answers. Sick of little boys trying to place blame on one another, I scolded and separated them. They both wanted to work on the castle, but I couldn’t trust them to not fight. Begrudgingly, I sat down near them and allowed them to get back to it under my supervision.The castle was repaired quickly enough and the boys were soon smiling and laughing again like nothing had ever happened. I wanted to return to the waves, but I couldn’t let my brother’s day be ruined. He wanted to build a sand castle, and I wouldn’t let anything stop him. The castle became more splendid than ever, and the people around us started to take notice. Children stared in amazement and offered their assistance. Parents congratulated their hard work. My brother would run up to our parents periodically, they'd look over at the castle lazily and give a word of dismissive affirmation, and then he'd run back to the castle eagerly. The work never seemed to end. He and the other children giggled as they danced around and created miniature villages in the shadow of my brother’s work.He looked up at me and thanked me profusely for my help, a large smile plastered to his face. I’ll never forget the pure joy he exuded that day. Though some say the FISH took all purpose away, I found some solace in preserving his smile, at least, in preserving his memory. Even now, so many years after my brother took himself away, I can feel his presence. I can see his smile so clearly.Hours later, we gathered our belongings and walked back to our car. We loaded everything up, and then my brother realized he’d left his shovel and pail behind. It was just a cheap dollar store set but it meant the world to him, so I went back to the beach to look for it. When I got down to the water, I found the sand castle completely destroyed. A lump of sand and a broken pail a yard or two away were all that remained of my brother's triumph. I looked around for the little boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. I picked up the pail and walked back to the car cursing in frustration.I hid the pail from his sight and put it in the trunk of the car. He’d find out sooner or later that it was broken and the shovel was lost, but that could wait. I wouldn’t let anything ruin the day for him. The car ride home was filled with castle-building techniques, giddy bragging, and laughter. All of us fed off his energy and we laughed and joked along with him, acting as his royal servants, calling him ""King"" and ""Your Majesty."" The FISH seemed like a distant memory, a nightmare that had finally, thankfully, begun to fade. Later, my brother would find that broken pail and he'd cry and cry, but not now. No, in that car nothing mattered but us; the sand castle was never destroyed, and those aliens never came.In my brother’s memory, the sand castle lives on. The building is over and he will never work on it again, but it will remain. Countless families will come and go, gawking at the glory of his kingdom. It will stand as a testament to his achievement, a mark of his greatness. I will be there to stand over and protect it, even if my shadow eats at its beauty. Under my watch, no little boy will kick sand castles again.
","August 08, 2023 15:14","[[{'Joe Malgeri': 'Great story, excellent imagination, loved it.', 'time': '19:03 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ny0tiu,Elvis Has Left the Planet,John K Adams,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ny0tiu/,/short-story/ny0tiu/,Science Fiction,0,"['Funny', 'Science Fiction', 'Contemporary']",18 likes,"
Dean staggered into the kitchen rubbing his bleary eyes.
“Coffee. Gotta have coffee. My kingdom for a cup!”
His kids, Lucy and Rex, looking at the morning paper, barely reacted. They’d heard it many times. Rex focused on the sports section. Lucy commandeered the calendar page.
“Where’s your mother?” He began making coffee.
Monica, still in her robe and slippers, stood at the kitchen door. “Here. What a night! Dogs barking. Lights flashing…” Dean rolled his eyes. “You too?” 
“Like the good old days, huh?”
She smiled wanly. “Ready for school, kids?”
They mumbled an affirmative. Dean read over Lucy’s shoulder.
“Damn! I wanted tickets…” 
Monica looked at him. “To?”
“Taylor Swift’s show sold out…”
“Never, never gonna…”
“How many people…” Dean grabbed the front page. “Oh my god! Look! Aliens have landed!”
Rex ran to look. “Wow! Space aliens, Dad!”
Monica shuffled up behind him. “Where?”
Dean read, “Just outside Bakersfield! Close!” They locked eyes. “Easy drive.”
Monica said, “You mean…?”
Lucy said, “Could we?”
Rex yelled, “Yay!” He began dancing. “Goin’ to see the aliens!”
“What about school?”
“So, they miss a day. Once in a lifetime… Remembered forever.”
“We’ll write a note. Grab your stuff. Oh, I’m a mess!” Monica ran out.
Dean called in sick from work. “RV’s gassed up… Traveling in style!”
“Don’t forget sunscreen!”
Lucy changed into a polka-dot party dress and found favorite lipstick. Rex raced around making sci-fi noises. 
“All stocked up. Let’s hit it!” 
The kids ran to the RV. 
Monica stopped Dean and did a twirl. “How do I look?”
“Out of this world!” They laughed.
Dean pulled onto the highway. Traffic was light.
Lucy asked, “Think they’re friendly, Dad?”
“Of course. We’d know by now if they weren’t.”
“Pow! Pow!” Rex aimed his finger at his sister. 
She pushed his hand away. “Cut it out, Rex. Fingers don’t shoot lasers.”
“Mine does.”
“Then be careful picking your nose…”
Traffic bunched up about twenty miles out. Roadside souvenir stands sold t-shirts and google-eye glasses. A sign touted ‘extra-terressed kettle corn,’ and toys. Traffic crawled by a guy selling tin foil hats from the back of his truck. Dean thought, ‘What a geek.’
“Dad! Can I get one of those?”
“There’ll be plenty of stuff to buy, Rex. You won’t wear that.”
“But I will. Promise. They’re cool. I always wanted one.”
Dean pulled over and found parking. A family walked by eating ‘alien’ funnel cakes.
“Anyone hungry?”
Monica and Lucy declined. Rex wanted everything and now.
“Lucy, sure you don’t want a hat?”
“No thanks. Hate hat hair…” 
They perused the t-shirt selection at another stand. Lucy held some up for her mother’s opinion.
“‘Take me to your breeder,’ is boxy. ‘I lean alien’ is nice. You like the color?”
“Chartreuse clashes with everything I have.”
They piled back onto the RV and edged into the slow, steady traffic. A billboard featured pictures of classic movie aliens. It advertised the theme park that hadn’t existed 48 hours before.
Lucy looked from her phone. “I just googled,” she said. “They’ve landed all around the world. Say they come in peace.”
“Good to know,” said Monica. 
“But what do they want?” asked Dean.
Lucy said, “It says the rocket came from the planet ‘Bop.’”
“Never heard of it.” Monica laughed.
“Good beat. Easy to dance to,” Dean added. 
Rex asked Lucy “What are they talking about?” She shrugged.
The traffic began to move as it split into streams for parking. 
The giant rocket loomed in the distance. 
Rex could only say, “Wow!”
The family found parking and joined the crowd migrating toward the rocket. A ramp came into view. A low stage stood at its base. People gathered as if for a show.
The crowd cheered as a figure dressed in white began descending the ramp. It raised his arms in greeting. A glittering white cape wafted behind him. 
Dean stopped. “Wait, what? Did I make a wrong turn and end up in Vegas?”
Lucy said, “Is that…?”
“It looks like…”
Monica shouted. “It’s Elvis! He’s so dreamy.”
Rex said, “That’s not Elvis. He’s fake.”
Lucy bit her knuckle and said, “But he’s still dreamy.”
Cell phones began pinging. Lucy checked hers. 
“They’re inviting earthlings to planet Bop.” She summarized. “When they left Bop, Elvis was in style here. Due to the vast distance traveled, their fashion trends lagged.” 
Her phone pinged several more times. 
She said, “China rejected this invitation. They say Elvis is an American propaganda tool.”
Monica said, “All I know, is he’s dreamy.”
Rex and Dean shrugged at each other.
Lucy said, “They’re desperate to repopulate their planet. Everyone looks like Elvis. They have no females. Everyone’s invited. A good time will be had by all.”
The women surged forward and lined up at the ramp’s base.
As if sleep walking, Lucy joined the line. Monica looked at Dean.
He said, “You must be joking.”
“I’m sorry, Dean. You can’t argue with dreamy.” She took Lucy’s hand and looked back at him. 
He nodded. “I understand. Go…”
Monica wiped a tear from her eye and turned away. She and Lucy jumped up and waved to the Elvis alien. 
Dean called out. “I’ll miss you…”
“What are Mom and Lucy thinking, Dad?”
Dean watched them. “Good question. You’re a smart kid. I don’t get it.”
“They look happy.”
“I hope so.”
The crowd surged to safety at the sight of another spaceship approaching. Shaped like a saucer, it landed a hundred yards from the rocket. The updraft made the long flaps around its perimeter flutter and fly up. 
It settled. A portal opened and a ramp emerged. 
A voice like honey announced, “Greetings! We come from the planet ‘Hubba.’”
An alien emerged and walked gracefully down the ramp. Its white dress moved hypnotically with every step. The crowd of men swayed as the alien descended with an alluring smile. 
Dean’s mouth dropped open. “Marilyn…”
“Wow! She’s prettier than Mom!”
“Shhh!”
From the line of women, Lucy said, “That’s not Marilyn.”
Rex pulled at Dean’s sleeve. “Who’s Marilyn?”
The men silently lined up to board the saucer. Thousands of people stood in two lines. No one spoke.
Throughout the crowd, I-phones pinged. People broke from the lines and walked to their cars. 
Dean called out. “Lucy! What’s going on?”
She held up her phone. “Look, Dad… Taylor Swift tickets!”
“Unbelievable!” He shouted, “Use the app, Lucy. Use the app! Did you get the tickets?”
She tapped her phone and, grinning, nodded.
Dean pumped the air. “Yes!” He waved at Monica and Lucy. “Let’s go!”
They broke free from the crowd and ran to the RV.
The alien Elvis and Marilyn watched as the lines dissolved. Turning, they saw each other. Each stepped from their stages and shimmied toward each other in a silent dance.
Dean’s family boarded the RV. He idled forward as cars approached the exit. 
He looked at Monica sitting in the seat beside him and reached out. 
“I love you…”
She took his hand and smiled. “I love you too…”
Entering the highway, they rolled toward home. The souvenir stands they’d seen earlier had packed up and left. 
Rex said, “Man! I didn’t even get a t-shirt!”
Dean said, “Wear your tin foil hat, kid. I paid good money for that.” 
He looked at the solid line of cars leading away from the spaceships.
“Will you look at the traffic!”
 
","August 07, 2023 14:19","[[{'Cedric Busteed': ""Cute little slice of Americana with funny insight on pop culture. The dialogue can be a bit vague on who's talking, but that's a given with more than two characters."", 'time': '18:57 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'John K Adams': ""Cedric, thanks for pointing out your confusion with the dialogue. I'm usually careful about such things. I'll take another look."", 'time': '04:40 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'John K Adams': ""Cedric, thanks for pointing out your confusion with the dialogue. I'm usually careful about such things. I'll take another look."", 'time': '04:40 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Ha! Hilarious and absurd :) \n\nHow quick we are to abandon things, when something better comes along. Thankfully Taylor Swift saved the day. \n\n""extra-terressed kettle corn"" :) \n\nI think the best moment was when the mother and daughter lined up for Elvis. The agreeable resignation in the father was just perfect for the story. \n\nThanks for sharing!', 'time': '20:37 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks, as always, for reading and the comment. It is always a pleasure to find out what (and if something) worked.', 'time': '23:48 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks, as always, for reading and the comment. It is always a pleasure to find out what (and if something) worked.', 'time': '23:48 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': 'The tale was hilarious, and you managed to skewer western consumerism in a savage and apt manner, John. This story has a lot in it, and all of it is amazing. Fantastic piece, my friend. Two big non-alien thumbs up!\n\nCheers!', 'time': '13:26 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks Delbert. All the credit goes to my muse, who touched me profoundly, for this one. \nYou packed a lot of superlatives into your comment. I thank you for each one.', 'time': '15:00 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks Delbert. All the credit goes to my muse, who touched me profoundly, for this one. \nYou packed a lot of superlatives into your comment. I thank you for each one.', 'time': '15:00 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Very fun story John. Breezed through it, the dialogue is great!', 'time': '22:15 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks, Derrick. Always love comments. Glad it worked for you.', 'time': '23:34 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks, Derrick. Always love comments. Glad it worked for you.', 'time': '23:34 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Elvis and Marilyn so passe. Taylor Swift is where it's at. Not sure if her songs have a good beat and easy to dance to, though.🕺"", 'time': '14:57 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'John K Adams': ""I'm glad you got the complete subtext, Mary. Love your comments!"", 'time': '16:52 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'John K Adams': ""I'm glad you got the complete subtext, Mary. Love your comments!"", 'time': '16:52 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': 'Your title pulled me in like a magnet, John. Very entertaining story with intriguing characters. Nice work.', 'time': '19:10 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks Joe. It was fun to write.', 'time': '19:57 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'John K Adams': 'Thanks Joe. It was fun to write.', 'time': '19:57 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,lcy3sx,Mariana 1,Nicholas Thomas,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/lcy3sx/,/short-story/lcy3sx/,Science Fiction,0,"['Horror', 'Science Fiction', 'Suspense']",18 likes,"
      The year is 2064, two years after Earth was first contacted by the Ollut species. The Ollut came from the planet we once documented as Kepler-22b, but what they have named Ul’dumt – of course in sound. While they have learned our language quickly, it is still taking us time to do the same with theirs.           They came to our planet in peace, and to prove so they have taught us technological advancements that would’ve taken us decades (if not centuries) to uncover on our own. But the most remarkable thing of note, to Captain Alexander at least, was that they did not appear all too alien – they were carbon-based lifeforms, and in many ways, they looked like humans; though their skin ranged on a spectrum from deep crimson red to a bright purple, and their eyes were apparently nothing but pupil. Captain Alexander noted he could perfectly see his reflection in their eyes when he had met one in person.           Now, thanks to the exotic teaching of the Olluts, a massive deep-sea explorative vessel named Marian 1 was idle just above the trench for which it was named. The design of this watercraft was remarkable, as it was as spacious as a station on the surface, and the immense pressure just outside these walls couldn’t be felt; it was as if one were standing at sea level on Earth.           It was eventually revealed that the Ollut’s had come here with a more specific purpose in mind; they had been receiving a strange type of transmission from Earth that they could not identify and came here to investigate. Once they realized we humans could be trusted, they opened up to us. Together we found this transmission, which sounded like a discordant song when run through their technology, was coming from the bottom of the Marian Trench. Thus, the Mariana 1 was constructed by both Human and Ollut hands, a symbol of unified worlds for the noble goal of scientific discovery.           Captain Albert Alexander was anointed the commander of this extraordinary station, with a first mate being one of the Olluts. His name was Aq’rah, and Captain Alexander found him to be a very pleasant bit of company. Cpt. Alexander and Aq’rah were alerted of a distress signal by their ground units down at the surface of the trench. Apparently, as they set their suits to automatic homing back up to their ship, Petty Officer Garibaldi’s suit malfunctioned which sent him drifting back to the bottom of the trench.           Cpt. Alexander had begun organizing a rescue party immediately and, against the advisement of his first mate, had climbed inside one of the deep-sea mechsuits. These suits were three times the size of a regular human, with a type of clear shield that covers where the operator would sit. Within just a few moments, Cpt. Alexander along with Lieutenant Hutton and Ensign Johnson all descended, down into the dark.           “Light’s on, people.” Cpt. Alexander said through their coms. There was a short chorus of “Aye, captain!” as bright beams shot out from each mechsuit, like pairs of extremely heavy-duty headlights. As powerful as these lights were, they only allowed vision just a few feet ahead of them in such powerful darkness.           The heavy boots of the suits each clamped on the trench’s floor with reverberating thuds. “This is your queue, Johnson.” The Captain said. Ensign Johnson nodded in his suit, not realizing that his captain most likely didn’t see this gesture, as he raised his suit’s left arm and shot a unique type of flair out of it. The flair burned bright, and the damp dark blue around them had become just a little clearer; like looking down the street at night when the moon is a quarter full. “Garibaldi’s distress call was last heard approximately fifty meters south of us,” Lieutenant Hutton said, “I suggest a spread-out wedge formation.”           “That checks out. Johnson, take starboard.” Cpt. Alexander replied. Johnson moved to the left side of his captain and started to move forward, when Alexander said, “Johnson, I know you’re nodding at me in there, but for clarity’s sake please say something in response when we’re down here.” Silence at first, then, “Right. Aye Captain!” from Johnson.           Even through the clear visors and with their different ways of illumination, it was difficult to see exactly where they were going in this murky deep. Occasionally Alexander would see something moving in the dark, just out of reach of the lights. Though he was certain any creature down here wouldn’t have the strength to instantly break or dismantle one of these suits, they still set him on edge. For one, these suits had no weaponry installed in them, and secondly – what the hell kind of creatures even live here? Not any kind he’d want to see face-to-face.           As if Johnson could read the captain’s thoughts, he muttered, “Man, down here will never NOT give me the creeps.”           “Tell me about it,” Hutton said back.           Alexander chuckled, and said, “Don’t I know it. Just keep your eyes sharp, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”           The three had been down here for roughly thirty minutes now, and Johnson had to swing away more than one weird type of “squid-thing!” as he called them. When Alexander had started to get nervous for Garibaldi, he heard Hutton call, “Over here! I think I see him!”           Alexander and Johnson were running (or, the next best thing to running as these suits could allow) in Hutton’s direction when Alexander saw what Hutton was seeing – a blinking blue light, the same kind that can be seen on one of these suits when the lights are turned off. The blinking was sporadic and rapid, and Alexander couldn’t think of why. The answer became clear when Johnson said, “Jesus, he’s being swarmed! It’s probably that damn blue blip!”           Johnson was right – Garibaldi’s mech suit was being swarmed. Different creatures that thrive in the trench were squirming and gnawing at Garibaldi’s mechsuit, some of them eating others with one fell chomp so they could be the one to get to the light – and to Garibaldi on the other side of it. “Get the hell off of him!” Hutton said angrily, as she swatted her suit’s arm at the creatures. The slimy and scaled things had turned to gnash at her instead out of anger or, possibly, confusion. When Johnson and Alexander joined in swatting these deep-sea creatures, they would eventually recede and swim away. “Fuckin’ pests!” Johnson hissed angrily at their retreating figures.           “Never mind them!” Alexander said harshly; he was looking through Garibaldi’s face shield. There was no crack as far as he could see, but there was a crack somewhere in Garibaldi’s suit as he saw the water pooling inside, reaching up to his lower lip. Garibaldi’s eyes were closed, his skin was pasty white, and his lips were blue.           Jesus, I can’t imagine how God damn cold he’s got to be in there, Alexander thought. How much longer is this suit going to last down here with that crack?           “Captain, is he even...?” Johnson began, but Hutton cut him off with a sharp, “Shut up, Johnson! Not now. We have to get him back.”           Alexander nodded, noting the irony of the gesture just after his command to Johnson earlier. He hooked his suit’s arms around Garibaldi’s suit, and gave the command, “Everyone take hold of some part of him, we’re getting out of here – now.” They each did as he asked – Hutton grabbed Garibaldi’s left arm, and Johnson the right. “Get your suits on autopilot in return back to the ship, it’s the only chance we got!”           Near simultaneously, each of their mechsuits began to hover off the trench’s floor. Water jets spun rapidly under their feet as the suits themselves magnetized with their assigned return point at the bay doors – This exceptionally magnificent use of magnetization was another huge thanks to the Olluts.           The bright light from the opening hangar doors of the Mariana 1 was so inviting, that Alexander felt he could weep. He was used to submarine work, but this entire mission was something else entirely.           The four of them were safely inside the vessel and Garibaldi’s mechsuit was set as gently down as they could manage. As Alexander climbed out of his suit, he saw Aq’rah powerwalking towards him with a neutral expression. At least, Alexander thought it was neutral – with how alike the Olluts appeared to humans, their differences were still vast, and emotions were no exception to that. “Is he alive?” Aq’rah asked in his strange accent. Alexander expected some kind of, “I still think you shouldn’t have gone down there?” but he learned quickly that these were a very to-the-point kind of people.           “Yeah… I think so, anyway.” Alexander replied as he watched the standby medical team load Garibaldi onto a stretcher. Hutton and Johnson were muttering fiercely to each other by Garibaldi’s mechsuit. “Good,” Aq’rah said, “Every life here is important for this mission.” Alexander smirked at him for that, and said, “I agree completely. No one left behind!”           Aq’rah looked as if he was going to reply, but remained silent as his eyes shifted past Alexander’s shoulder. “What is-?” Alexander started to ask, but was cut off when Hutton called, “Captain, I think you should see this!”           Alexander turned briskly on his heel and looked at Hutton (and Johnson, who was looking over her shoulder and into her hands with wide eyes) and saw that she was holding a black cube in her hands. When she brought it closer to him, he could see that this strange cube was of seemingly perfect dimensions, and its coloration was the darkest thing he’d ever seen, except for the edges; the edges of this box were a dark purple only seen with a backdrop as if there was a violet flashlight being held behind it.           “That’s… Well, very peculiar, Lieutenant. Where did you find this?” Alexander asked.           “Well, if you could believe it, sir,” Hutton said in a chilled tone, “It was being clutched by Garibaldi’s suit. Suffice to say, he found it. Down there.” She pointed below them as if that needed to be specified. At this Alexander’s eyes widened, as he reached for the box. Hutton handed it to him, and he found that it was extraordinarily light in weight. “That’s not possible,” he mumbled, “It’s so clean… and with how light this is, you’d think it would be completely destroyed in that pressure!”           Aq’rah narrowed his eyes at the cube. “I do believe, Captain, that this is what we are looking for.” Alexander turned to face his first mate and asked incredulously, “You mean this is what was sending out that signal that brought your people here?” Aq’rah closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I do not know. But I have little doubt that this object is at least related.”           Hutton gleamed at the box when she heard this, and Johnson still stared at it with an empty, dreamy expression. Alexander noticed this and cautiously said, “I need you two to go get some rest. That’s an order.” Hutton shook herself and looked at her captain. “I feel fine, sir,” she said, “Honest! I was just a little… I guess intrigued.”           “Now, Lieutenant. That means you too, Ensign!” Alexander ordered. Hutton gave a salute and dejectedly walked away. Johnson, however, stood lazily still, saying nothing, still eyeing the black cube. Alexander handed the cube to Aq’rah. “Take this… Somewhere safe. We’ll figure out what it is later.” And radioed for medical to come and take a look at Johnson.***           Ensign Johnson woke up in a start and sat upright. He looked around and saw he was in sick bay. “How the hell...?” He whispered to himself. He looked next to himself and saw Garibaldi lying on a bed unconscious, tubes and wires hooked into his too-pale skin. “Hey, man,” Johnson said to his unconscious shipmate. “You just hang in there, okay?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He stretched his spine forward and back, then side to side. With a yawn, he moved over to the wall where a comms box was attached. “Hey Hutton, it’s Johnson. I don’t know how but I woke up in medical,” he spoke into it, “Do you know which wing I’m on?” A quiet static was all he got in response.           “Hutton?” He clicked again. More static, but now he could make out some words, “Did..s…Box?”           “What?” he asked into the speaker.           “Did..s…Box?”           Johnson rubbed his temple, irritated. “Hutton if that’s you, you gotta speak up I can’t hear a word you’re-”           “Did you see the box?” A male voice said behind him.           Johnson whirled around, almost tripping as he did so, and looked at Garibaldi. Garibaldi was standing before him, naked, the wires and tubes hanging lazily around him from out of his skin. His eyelids were closed.           “G!” Johnson said, startled, “You freaked the shit outta me, man! What are you doing?”           Garibaldi did not reply. He stood there motionlessly, looking but not looking at Johnson with his closed eyelids.           “G...?” Johnson practically whimpered. “What’s going on, man?”           Garibaldi opened his eyelids, and what was beneath them was nothingness. It wasn’t pitch blackness, but it was the type of nothing as what one cannot see behind their own head – only Johnson did see it, that nothingness, in Garibaldi’s eyes. “Did you see the box?” asked Garibaldi.***           Captain Alexander walked through the corridors of his ship. It was “night” time, according to their clocks; though it was perpetually night down here, the only thing stopping that was the timers on the ship’s lights. Now there was only a faint illumination of a dim red glow through the hallways. He found sleep evading him and decided this was the best way to clear his head. It was a troubling day of work, yet ultimately a success.           And there was the box.           Such a strange object that defied all reason, and was so captivating just by existing. He had so many questions about the box; where did it come from? Who made it? What is it even made of?           As he pondered this, a feeling of unease struck his stomach. No, it wasn’t unease, it wasn’t even subliminal; it was an actual, gravitational feeling.           Why are we ascending? He thought angrily. He broke into a sprint towards the bridge.***           Captain Alexander was through the blast doors before they would even fully open. “What the hell is going on here? Who gave the order to make land?!” He bellowed.           First Mate Aq’rah, Lieutenant Hutton, Ensign Johnson, and Petty Officer Garibaldi all stood on the bridge, their backs facing him. “Well?!” He demanded. But they did not even seem to register him. It was with this pause that Alexander noticed his surroundings – the hull of the bridge was covered in a sickly, palish purple substance that looked flesh-like. “What… How…” He didn’t know what to say, as he watched this contortion of gooey flesh on his ship start to throb – no, not throb, but breathe.           “Did you look at the box, Captain?” Aq’rah said with Garibaldi’s voice. He turned to face Alexander.           “What the fuck?!” Alexander said stumbling back into the squishy wall, raising his hands up defensively.           Aq’rah’s eyes, which were once black and reflective, now mirrored clustered stars with purple veins thrumming through them. His crewman’s blouse had been ripped open, revealing a face that looked almost human birthing from his chest – a face with a grotesquely frozen expression of horror and pain, and tendrils of muscle slowly wriggling around it.           “It is a god. But not one you can see.” Garibaldi’s voice said through Aq’rah’s mouth. “But it wants you to see.”           Alexander was shaking, sweat poured down his back as his eyes bulged at what remained of his closest shipmates. “No…” he pleaded with a whimper.           “You must see it, Captain.” Hutton said with an otherworldly echo, “It is his gift. Be one of the first to receive it before we reach the surface. Be like us.”           “This is the water, and this is the well,” Johnson sang with a siren’s grace, “Drink full, and ascend.”           Aq’rah moved to his fear-stricken Captain and lifted the lid of the box, and though he tried to resist, the temptation was too great – the pull that whatever this thing had on his mentality was too great. The Mariana 1 was rising to the surface to greet the peoples of two worlds with their findings – their gift – and the ship’s commander, Captain Albert Alexander, looked into the box and ascended.
","August 05, 2023 00:06","[[{'Britney Liedtke': 'Omgoshhhhh! This was the best one yet! I want to WATCH this now, too! Great job, dude! You should win with this one!!', 'time': '21:47 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Catrina Thomas': 'I literally got goosebumps! You should be winning these contests. Absolutely outstanding story! The visual was dead in in my head the entire time. I loved it! Define of your best works!', 'time': '20:19 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Nicholas Thomas': 'Thank you ❤️', 'time': '07:52 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nicholas Thomas': 'Thank you ❤️', 'time': '07:52 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Emily Stoll': 'The ending of this story made my skin break out in goosebumps, you definitely transported me to a thrilling place in my mind.\U0001fae8', 'time': '01:28 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,d9km5p,A Real Date,Pete R.,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/d9km5p/,/short-story/d9km5p/,Science Fiction,0,"['Horror', 'Science Fiction']",16 likes,"
	I parked my father's brand new Bel Air outside Sally's house and stared at the big yellow front door. Oh, gosh, I sure am sweet on her.
	My dad said he'd only let me take out the car if I were to help him around the house this past week. I had done my paper route, helped him mow the lawn, I even helped with painting the molding in the living room—heck, I had helped Mom roast the chicken for dinner! By all accounts, I worked like a dog and got the car for the night, but only because the whole time, I had thought of Sally.
	Her blonde hair, those hazel eyes, those calves that snuck out of her skirt. She was a doll, and I wanted to make her my gal.
	I had first seen her in Mr. Hayes' math class. I'm a dullard at math, but she sure is brilliant. Maybe she raised her hand a bit much for my liking, but she seemed to know everything about numbers and algebra and whatnot.
	I did not want to strike out with Sally like I usually did with girls. She was so pretty and I was so quiet, I was sure she never noticed me. A lot of the fellas said that about Sally though. That she was weird and preoccupied. Like she lived on a different planet. 
	I had bumped into her after class and asked her how she got so good at doing all these calculations and whatnot in the first place.
	""Oh, I don't know,"" she had blushed, ""I know someone really smart, I guess,"" then she looked up at me and my heart almost exploded, like a real a-bomb, right in my chest.
	""Oh, gee, I don't know about that,"" I had cackled back. I had caught her after school a couple more times and even walked her home one day.
	She talked about math the whole time, and she said she loved to look at the stars at night, to see into the vast depths of the universe.
	""It makes me feel so small, but at the same time, I like knowing there's so much out there—that I'm not alone,"" she had spoken a little softly that day when we were walking to her house after school. Her eyes had stared at the darkening sky with a little twig of a smile…Those thin lips, I think she uses cherry lip balm.
	I just knew I needed to see more of her. There was a school dance coming up, over a month away, I figured I'd drive to her house and ask her out, see if she's wanting to be my gal and go to the dance together, a regular old pair of love birds.
	And so, I drove to her house and cleared my throat. I got out of the car and fixed my hair. I walked over to her yellow front door. I tried to look into the house, but the curtains covered the windows.
I walked up and I knocked. Nervous at first, but then I gained my confidence. I couldn't afford to mess this up. I'd liked Sally for so long. There's no chance I could mess up something like this. I knocked again. No answer. Strange, Sally was usually home at this hour.
	I waited almost a minute. It felt like an hour, and so I knocked again.
	""Sally!"" I yelled through the yellow door, and then I heard footsteps muffled behind it. I could see light disappear through the eye hole as someone looked through it.
	I heard Sally's voice, but she distorted it and tried to make it sound lower. It was confusing. She said, ""Sally is not home right now, come back another time.""
	""Sally,"" I said, ""It's me! I have something to talk to you about, I think it's important."" I heard some more mumbling from behind the door, and finally, the yellow door squeaked open.
	""Oh, it's you."" Sally said, her hazel eyes just peaking out from behind the door. ""I didn't expect it to be you.""
	I pushed the door open wider and saw the whole scene. She was finishing buttoning up her pink blouse. She had messed up some of the buttons and I could see her brassiere underneath. I looked at her face, and I saw that her eyes were dark, smeared with mascara, her cherry lip balm was all smudged around her lips, and her hair was all frazzled and out of place. Even her skirt seemed to be put on in a rushed way. Though Sally started to say more to me, I did not hear her.
	I looked over her shoulder. My heart sank into the darkest depths of the ocean, I became just like the ancient ships sunk long ago; an empty, hollow vessel long forgotten at the bottom of the depths of the world.
	In the shadows of her home, which had no lights on, I saw a human-looking thing—but it was like no human I'd ever seen before. The light from outside splashed subtly onto its features. Its gray, sallow skin was wrinkled. Its arms were long and grotesque. Its fingers were pale and lifeless, yet the thing moved, ever so slightly. I saw black bulbous eyes, and where the nose should be, I saw nothing. There was the thinnest sliver of darkness where its mouth supposedly was. Around its barren features, there was the smudge of pink cherry lip balm. There was a trail of it down the thing's bare, thin chest.
	I looked back at Sally; her eyes looked accusing and uncaring for me, as though I was nothing of interest. Her eyes were pointed with anger.
	""This is why I didn't open the damn door,"" she said, the face beneath her muddled makeup growled with anger.
The gray thing got up out of its chair. Its long, dangling limbs propelled down to the floor like hanging nooses. Its long, sharp fingers reached out for me and I swear I saw the thing lick its lips with two tongues whispering from its mouth.
	Sally reached her own hand out and yanked at the ruffles of my shirt. Everything went black and warm and wet.
 
","August 04, 2023 17:16","[[{'Nicki Nance': 'This was a fun, nostalgic story with a good twist for the prompt. My favorite thing was how you captured the colloquialisms of the era.', 'time': '01:23 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,lp4itd,The Earth Initiative,Sherri Moorer,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/lp4itd/,/short-story/lp4itd/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Funny']",15 likes,"
	“I can’t believe we gave these idiots the Internet,” Ugleck said as he shuffled through the streets of the crowded city, sweating in the uncomfortable human suit. 
	“You should have used it to research modern dress codes,” Malook said, breezing through the street in her shorts and T-shirt. “People don’t wear suits anymore unless they’re in high-power occupations. We’re supposed to be civilians. You look funny.” 
	“Everybody looks funny,” Ugleck said as a man with green dreadlocks bumped against him on the sidewalk. “Our climate research is also out of date. Did this rock get closer to the sun, or is global warming real?”
	“It’s real,” dreadlocks said. 
	They turned to stare at the man. 
	The man stared back, his pupils dilated. “It’s real, man. We’re all going burn.” 
	“Shut it, hippie,” a man in a light-colored suit said, sloshing coffee as he juggled the paper cup and a cell phone where a voice droned on about – something. “That’s a conspiracy theory. It’s hot because it’s August. Summer is always hot. You kids think it’s something new, but it isn’t.”
	“Hey, man, that hurt. I’m offended!”
	The man tried to shuffle his coffee cup to his left hand to give dreadlocks an obscene gesture, but he dropped the coffee, which was promptly smashed into the sizzling pavement by a truck honking his horn and sticking his own hand out of the window in the same gesture. 
	“How rude!” Ugleck said. “What’s happened to this society?”
	“They suffered a pandemic three years ago that has resulted in widespread post-traumatic stress,” Malook said. “Our analysis shows a sharp decrease in intelligence and social skills.”
	“And noise,” Ugleck said as they jostled against more people. “How much of a population reduction did the pandemic cause?” 
	“Nearly seven million to date.” 
	“How are there all of these people if that many perished?” 
	“The world population is nearly eight billion,” Malook said as she pushed open the doors to the small building discretely positioned between two high rises. 
	Ugleck took a deep breath through the small respirator in his human suit. “Finally, a beneficial invention. Air conditioning!”
	They walked up a narrow case of stairs to a small office, where a dusty table and an old computer sat in the center of the room. Dust motes swirled in the sunlight filtering through the window behind the desk. Ugleck took a seat at the desk and booted up the computer as Malook pulled a rolling chair from the corner. 
	“Perhaps their social skills have declined because they’re using the technology we gave them at Area 51 to sustain the planet and the higher population.” Uglek hummed a low tone that vibrated in the air, clearing the dust motes and establishing the neural connection to the antique computer on the desk. It flashed to life, showing futuristic graphics across the screen. He tapped a key to project his search results on screens forming a circle around the desk. 
	Malook frowned as she studied the screens. “They haven’t advanced anywhere near our projections. There have been great strides in communications, but their Artificial Intelligence development is at least fifty years behind the projections we established for this race.”
	“It looks like they’re using the Internet more for entertainment than evolution. Look at this.” Ugleck poked at a screen of a scantly clad woman screaming and pointing at a well-dressed man behind a counter at a restaurant. “And this,” he said, watching a woman bending over a laundry basket preparing to fill it at a gasoline pump. “Or this,” he poked at a screen of kids in cars swerving along an abandoned road. One car slammed into a building on the side of the street. A boy and girl jumped out of the car while it was still idling against the building. The girl buried her head in her hands and cried, screaming about wrecking her father’s car while the boy laughed like a maniac. “And how can waffles cause such disruption?” he asked as another screen showed a fight in a diner.
	“They are not using our technology to evolve,” Malook said. “It’s having the opposite effect. They’re regressing.”
	“This is an unintended consequence,” Ugleck said. “We thought they’d better themselves! They had such promise. What happened?”
	“Different times,” Malook said. 
	“Earth is my project,” Ugleck said, waving his hand in the air to clear the screens. “If these people use our technology to destroy themselves, then the Grand Council will execute me. They tasked me with helping this species reach peak evolution so they could enter the Intergalactic Pact.” He leaned back, his human form deflating. “I’d annihilate them myself, but I hate to waste a good particle beam on this frying rock. And why bother when they’re doing it to themselves? Every other species evolves quickly. What’s wrong with this one?”
	“Humans didn’t use advanced technology until the twentieth century, and then they experienced a boom. Their brains can’t keep up with what we’ve given them. Think about it, Ugleck. Every other planet we’ve discovered advanced on a smooth arc. The supreme beings evolved with their technology. This one made no advancements for thousands of years and then had a spike when we gave it to them. It isn’t normal. We should have known that this would fail.” 
	“Is there any hope to save ‘The Earth Initiative?’” Ugleck asked.
	Malook emitted a high-tone hum to reboot the computer. More screens projected in a circle around the desk. “There are segments of this population working on Artificial Intelligence. Humans are increasing use of it in homes and all industries, even though it isn’t as evolved as it should be. They have some concerns about it outpacing them and causing their demise, but that seems to be widely regarded as a ‘conspiracy theory.’ There is hope for evolution.”
	“Not for another century at least,” Ugleck said. “It’s moving too slow. If they don’t make greater strides soon, then they die either my their own hand or by our enemies roaming the galaxy. We were hoping they were the ones who could tip the balance of the galaxy in our favor. Instead, they’re dragging themselves down. How can we protect a race that ignores us?”
	“Perhaps we need to rethink first contact,” Malook said. 
	“What do you mean? We already had first contact!” 
	“We had first contact with a former generation, who kept it secret,” Malook said. “Perhaps we need to start again, but do it a different way this time.” She studied the computer screens around the desk. “Can you access these AI networks?”
	Ugleck’s human form inflated. “Easily. They’re still using binary code.”
	“Shameful,” Malook said, “and they call this their twenty-first century. Quantum computing is still experimental too!”
	“Maybe we can fix that,” Ugleck said. “If they won’t design the machines, then maybe the machines need to design them.” He emitted his hum again, causing the air to vibrate. The room splintered into fragments, and then further into pixels that swirled around them, absorbing the two aliens, the computer, and the entire building. An empty alleyway shimmered in the noon sunlight outside, the glitters falling to the pavement unnoticed by passersby with their heads bent to their phones. 
	“Did it work?” Ugleck’s voice asked, staring at the flashing lights around them. 
	“It worked,” Malook said as her human form fell away. “We’re in their Internet.”
	“Let’s save ‘The Earth Initiative,’” Ugleck said as he shed his human suit and bound with an AI line of code to ride the wave into the system.
","August 11, 2023 01:04","[[{'Judith Jerde': 'The Earth Initiative, is so timlely and engaging. I fear it is all too true, though. Leaves me wishing human dressed aliens could come down and smack us in the head, but I’m afraid we’ll need to do that ourselves if we can get our heads out of the meta-verse. Wonderful writing and storytelling.', 'time': '14:17 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Matthew Ruiz': 'I really enjoyed this! Well done!', 'time': '00:39 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Lily Finch': 'Nice job Sherri. Well done. LF6', 'time': '17:08 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,2jix9e,Sight Unseen,Jean Ballard,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/2jix9e/,/short-story/2jix9e/,Science Fiction,0,"['Horror', 'Science Fiction', 'Fiction']",15 likes,"
	I rolled over with a groan, sensing what was about to happen. Despite this, I jolted from the alarm clock blaring through the quiet of my room. After struggling to find my phone in the tangle of sheets, I finally silenced the unwelcome noise.
	As had become routine for the past three months of my life, and likely the lives of every other human being on the planet, I proceeded to fumble for the remote to my TV. I turned on the television, which emitted a brief crackle of static before the program appeared. My heart raced as the anchor's voice filled the room.
 
-----
 
BBC WORLD NEWS
 
The news anchor sits at the desk, an alarming expression painted across his face, as the cameras start rolling.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: Good morning, viewers. We start with an update on the extraterrestrials that have captured the world's attention since their discovery was made publicly known. As authorities continue to investigate and study these enigmatic predators, we bring you some of the warning signs that may indicate their presence.
 
On the screen, a list of warning signs appears, accompanied by graphics and footage.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: First, there have been reports of unexplained power fluctuations in various regions across the globe. Authorities are urging citizens to be vigilant and report any unusual electrical disturbances. It is also advised to immediately vacate any area where these fluctuations may be occurring as a precaution.
 
Cut to footage of city lights flickering and dimming, and people looking up at the sky in puzzlement.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: Next, we have received numerous accounts of strange lights in the sky, captivating witnesses with their extraordinary and erratic movements.
 
Bright orbs appear to be darting across the night sky in the footage, leaving trails of light behind them.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: Authorities have also raised concerns about the increasing number of missing persons cases. While not all missing person reports are related to the alien presence, they are taking these incidents very seriously.
 
Footage shows police investigators searching for clues, and families holding pictures of their loved ones.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: Now, we understand the desire to learn more about these unwelcome visitors, but it is crucial to remember that seeking out these extraterrestrials can be dangerous. The extraterrestrial beings remain a relatively unknown entity, and caution is advised.
 
On the screen, a sign reads ""Restricted Area"" with a silhouette of a stereotypical alien figure, cautioning against trespassing.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: For those who may encounter any of these warning signs, authorities urge you to keep a safe distance and report your observations immediately. The global community is working together to better understand these visitors and ensure the safety of all.
 
Cut back to the news anchor, who looks directly at the camera with a solemn expression.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: We will continue to keep you updated on any developments and further information. In the meantime, let us remember that while the presence of extraterrestrial life is unsettling and even fascinating to some, we must proceed with caution and respect the boundaries set by the authorities.
 
The anchor nods, concluding the segment.
 
NEWS ANCHOR: Stay tuned for more news after the break.
 
The news anchor takes a deep, uneasy breath before the cameras stop rolling and the program cuts to commercial advertisements.
 
-----
 
	The news ticker at the bottom of the screen continued to display a list of warning signs, a relentless reminder of the unnamed alien presence that had now become known to the entirety of the world three months prior. I couldn't help but be captivated by the gravity of the situation, my fascination pulling me towards curiosity as well as despair.
	I glanced at the clock and realized I was already running late for work. Hastily getting dressed, I grabbed my bag and dashed out the door. The streets were unusually quiet, an unsettling calm that mirrored the hushed atmosphere of the news program. My interest lingered as I contemplated the alleyway shortcut that beckoned to me. Against my better judgment, I decided to take the path less traveled. It would be quicker, after all.
	The alley was dimly lit, shrouded in a thick fog that seemed to swallow sounds and distort reality. As I ventured further, I became aware of a faint glow emanating from an obscured figure lurking in the shadows. The lights seemed to drift into the sky like a feather riding the fog.
	My heart pounded in my chest, and an inexplicable sense of unease washed over me. The silhouette of the figure appeared human, but something was off; something uncanny that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I hesitated, my instincts warning me to retreat, but an irresistible curiosity urged me forward. L’appel du vide.
	As I approached, the eerie glow became more pronounced, revealing the face of the figure. It looked almost human. I may have even thought it was another human being if not for my scrutinizing gaze but, upon closer inspection, the subtle differences became evident. The figure’s skin was pallid and unblemished, mirroring the texture of human flesh, but with an otherworldly sheen that betrayed its true nature. And its eyes. Its eyes, large and hauntingly black, seemed to absorb any light that dared to touch them. At a casual glance, they seemed almost ordinary, like dark voids in a sea of white. But upon closer inspection, something was terribly amiss.
	Then, with a sudden and calculated movement, the figure's eyes transformed. Within the obsidian depths of its eyes, sinuous black tendrils snaked and coiled, barely visible at first, as if they were hidden within the depths of its being. But then, with a slow and deliberate movement, those unnerving tendrils started to emerge. Like dark serpents, they slithered out, searching for their next prey.
	More disturbingly, each tendril extended further, revealing smaller branches that resembled twisted, contorted fingers. Each of the branches hosted countless minuscule, barely perceptible eyes along its length. These tiny eyes, black as the void itself, were mere pinpricks, yet they emanated an ominous aura that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of one's soul. Their gazes were haunting, empty of any emotion, devoid of the humanity they now sought to possess. They stalked through the fog like a legion of watchful sentinels, searching for unsuspecting victims. It was as if the alien had evolved to exploit the most profound fear of humanity; being watched, scrutinized, and ultimately ensnared in a malevolent web of possession.
	A chilling realization dawned upon me, but it was already too late. The tendrils shot forth with terrifying speed, seeking out my eyes with unerring precision. Before I could react, they latched onto my ocular orbs, and an icy shiver of violation washed over me, as the pupils of the extraterrestrial and my own were linked through these snakelike branches. This link caused my body to become numb, paralyzed by some power I did not understand.
	At first, it was a mere discomfort, a sensation of intrusion. But the tendrils' presence seeped deeper into my consciousness, spreading like an insidious virus throughout my mind. The alien's essence melded with my thoughts and emotions, an invasion of my very identity.
	Reality began to warp around me, the alleyway twisting and distorting into a surreal nightmare. The once-familiar surroundings morphed into a nightmarish canvas, painted with foreboding signs of the alien's presence. The fog seemed to clutch at my every step as if the atmosphere itself was manipulated by the malevolent entity.
	With each passing moment, I could feel myself slipping away, losing control to the alien force. The tendrils, now fully entrenched in my being, extended deeper, their tiny eyes watching, absorbing my memories and emotions. It felt as if the interior of my body was now only a shell for these tendrils to make their home.
	I tried to resist, to claw back control over my own body, but it was futile. The alien's power over me was absolute. My eyes, once windows to my soul, now mirrored the cold, abyssal gaze of the entity that had ensnared me.
	The transformation was agonizingly slow, like the ebb and flow of a tidal wave, a relentless process that engulfed my consciousness. My once-clear thoughts were possessed by an evil presence, and my emotions became mere echoes of what they once were.
	As the alien's possession deepened, the alleyway came alive with haunting whispers, each voice a chilling echo of malevolence. Shadows danced with a vile life of their own, and the walls of the alley bore grotesque graffiti that seemed to twist and writhe. Much like my own body, the shell of the world was now a host to all that is wicked.
	I had become a mere puppet, my actions manipulated by the abhorrent force that now controlled me. Every step I took was no longer my own, and with each passing moment, my sense of self faded further into oblivion.
	A sense of despair enveloped me. I was now lost and trapped in a nightmarish reality that was not my own. My screams of desperation echoed within, unheard by the world outside, a futile plea for escape. The alien entity had woven its sinister tendrils into the very fabric of my being, leaving me a mere husk of my former self.
 Beware the nearly human figure with eyes of darkness, for its uncanny appearance hides an insidious force that seeks to possess and control. Once ensnared by its tendrils, your fate is sealed, and you'll be forever condemned to wander the shadows, a vessel for the nefarious entity that lurks within, hidden behind a facade of humanity. The boundary between human and alien dissolves, and in the depths of the alleyways, their malevolent machinations thrive.
 
","August 11, 2023 16:01","[[{'Cecilia Englishby': 'This was a very compelling read.\nI especially enjoyed the addition of: L’appel du vide. ❤️\n\nThe section at the end requires only one thing, and that is for either Morgan Freeman or Ian Mcshane to provide the voice over.', 'time': '19:56 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Jean Ballard': ""Thank you so much! My partner actually suggested the conclusion of l'apell du vide. And then I felt silly for not thinking of it myself lol. He was very happy when I showed him your comment. :P\n\nAlso, I am so glad you liked that! I went back and forth on including that last bit, but I am happy I did. I can hear them now lol! <3"", 'time': '05:51 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Jean Ballard': ""Thank you so much! My partner actually suggested the conclusion of l'apell du vide. And then I felt silly for not thinking of it myself lol. He was very happy when I showed him your comment. :P\n\nAlso, I am so glad you liked that! I went back and forth on including that last bit, but I am happy I did. I can hear them now lol! <3"", 'time': '05:51 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Tom Skye': 'Creepy stuff. Lot of media metaphor I think and it was driven by the vivid descriptions. \n""It was as if the alien had evolved to exploit the most profound fear of humanity; being watched, scrutinized, and ultimately ensnared in a malevolent web of possession."" This seemed to be the heart of the story .\n\nReally enjoyed it and will read more.\n\nGood job', 'time': '23:16 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Jean Ballard': 'I appreciate your feedback, Tom! Thank you for reading my story. :)\n\nEdit: Also, these are some of my big anxieties and this is based on a nightmare, go figure haha.', 'time': '16:47 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Jean Ballard': 'I appreciate your feedback, Tom! Thank you for reading my story. :)\n\nEdit: Also, these are some of my big anxieties and this is based on a nightmare, go figure haha.', 'time': '16:47 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Martin Ross': '“The shell of the world was now a host to all that is wicked” — what a wonderful and powerful phrase. Like so much of what’s happening especially in my U.S. Nicely done — great suspense, and a really palpable cold feeling of despair seeping in!', 'time': '21:04 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Jean Ballard': ""Thank you so much for your wonderful comment! 🥺 Horror is definitely not my typical genre, but I've always felt a lot of fear about aliens. This was actually based on a nightmare I had about them haha!"", 'time': '23:18 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Jean Ballard': ""Thank you so much for your wonderful comment! 🥺 Horror is definitely not my typical genre, but I've always felt a lot of fear about aliens. This was actually based on a nightmare I had about them haha!"", 'time': '23:18 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,5iapyy,Alien Tech is for the Dogs,Sarah Arnette,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/5iapyy/,/short-story/5iapyy/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction', 'Speculative']",14 likes,"
In 2020, a scouting craft buzzed a small planet in the goldie locks band of a far-off solar system. The craft, known as the Indomitable, in the language of its people, did not stop to investigate the planet, but they did do passive scanning. NASA caught sight of it as it flew away. It looked a lot like a cylinder with a ball at the end of it. It did not have any markings that they could see, so they chalked it up to being a space rock. The crew of the Indomitable knew they found something though. They found evidence of civilization, technology, and the basics of space travel. In short, they found a potential customer. 
In 2025, a commercial craft from the same civilization arrived in Earth’s orbit, fully prepared to trade its trinkets for Earth’s great resources. While there were skeptics, the mass majority of the human population could hardly believe their luck. They were going to have the technology of the stars, all for acetone and other non-recyclable industrial waste products. It was a complete win-win situation. 
In 2028 a new technology from the non-terrestrials, the Askkists, hit the mass markets on Earth and it changed everything. It was the universal translator. It translates all spoken and non-spoken languages so that they can be understood by anyone, even if they do not have a translator themselves. It revolutionized global government and policies. It streamlined communications at workplaces, and it helped people understand isolated cultures. 
Just as the internet could be used as a source of unlimited learning and understanding, but is instead dedicated to cats, the universal translator became the toy of the fur-parent. Gone were the days of using repetitive training to convince your dog not to potty in the kitchen. Gone were the days of using sticky tapes to keep your cat off the shelves. Now you could just tell your pet what to do, and have him listen… or not. 
***
“Victory, please stop calling your brother a butt-face!” Mom calls from the living room. I’m in the kitchen, with Butt-face. His real name is Damien, but you know what, since I got my new translation collar, I can call him a Butt-face, and have everyone hear it. If I can’t, then what’s the point of having a brother?
“Victory, Mom said to stop calling me that!” Damien echoes what Mom just got done saying. His big dark brown eyes look even bigger against his black fur. He has some white on him, too, but not much. Just a bib and a single white toe on his back paw. He says he is an African Painted Dog because of it. He is really just a pit-bull mutt like me. The difference is, I am a pretty pit-bull mutt. I am white with tan markings down my back like the royal robes of office or a cape. I have a brown eye and a blue one, so one to match Mom’s and one to match Dad’s eyes. Damien just matches Mom’s.
“And that’s why you’re a Butt-face,” I coolly inform him. I then prance off into the living room to sit with Dad. He knows that Damien is a Butt-face, he’s the one who taught me that word. Granted, I could not speak when he taught it to me, but that’s beside the point. I learned all kinds of things before I had the words to express them myself. Mom and Dad were surprised at the things we know. 
We got our new translation collars a couple of weeks ago. They look like regular dog collars, but they don’t attach to a leash and they hang a little looser than a traditional collar should. Damien’s is a royal blue color with little teal diamond designs on it. Mine is pink, with flowers on it. We did not get a choice, we could not talk yet. It did not take long for them to start working though, or for us to figure out how to keep our thoughts to ourselves and use our words like we want to. Watching Mom and Dad’s responses helped a lot. 
Damien trots into the room shortly after I do. He looks up at Dad, but since I’m on Dad’s lap, he will have to sit with the Spare, otherwise known as Mom. That is okay for him, he prefers Mom anyway. Mom likes to give tight hugs and cuddles, and Damien loves those. He’s such a Mommy’s boy. Since it is winter, Mom lifts up the blanket she is cuddling under and lets Damien tuck in next to her. This is his favorite spot in the world.
“Victory, your brother loves you. It hurts his feelings when you call him a Butt-face. How would you like it if he called you something mean?” Mom says. 
“He wouldn’t dare. Besides, I wouldn’t mind. I would pay him no mind at all,” I answer back with a sniffle. At that, all eyes turn towards me. None of them look like they are believing a word I say. They might be right.
“Victory, you spent almost a year refusing to answer to any other name than Victory or Queen Victory. If he called you a Butt-face, you would have a fit. Hell, you throw a fit if he calls you ‘BG’, which is your nickname!” That’s Dad, trying to use logic and history to stop an argument. The only way it stops is if I win. Everyone knows this. 
“On another topic, did you hear that there is a faction of dogs and cats that are applying for citizenship and personhood in California?” Mom is always keeping up with the news. Ever since she blew off the news of the Askkists flyby and their subsequent landing, she has vowed not to make the same mistake again. She will treat the news as important, investigate it fully for scams, and then act on it. It is amazing how one alien invasion is enough to change a person. 
“What would they do with personhood? Pay taxes?” Dad asks. I nudge his hand, looking for ear rubs. I should not need to tell him to do his job. Luckily, he picks up on it pretty quickly. 
“According to what I was reading, yes. They want to have the right to pick where they live, the jobs that they have, and even the right to money and contracts. It is headed by a cat, Mr. Pavel. He says that he wants a life beyond just being a pampered house cat. He dreams of a job in politics. He also wants to see cats and dogs join the exploration teams on future space missions.”
“Well, it sounds like he is on his way to having that dream. I wish him the best. The tests that proved that cats and dogs are far more intelligent than previously thought, make it more compelling that he might actually get his wish for personhood. After all, the Great Apes got it. Now they are busy taking over the construction industry.” 
Mom looks back down to her tablet, rereading the news. “You guys are happy, right? We are not holding you back from living your best life, are we?” Mom asks Damien and me. She sounds worried. I know she worries a lot about being the best mom she can be and that we might not be living our best lives.  
I stop and think about it for a moment. When I dream, do I dream of work? When I think about the future, do I see this family and this life? Could I do better, be better? “Ha! You cannot get rid of us so easily! You signed the paperwork stating that you would take care of us forever, no take-backs. You’re stuck with us,” I answer for the two of us. I know where our bread, which I can’t actually have, is buttered.
“Mommy, I would never leave you,” Damien answers, cuddling up tighter to her. He is such a Butt-face.  
 
","August 04, 2023 19:48",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,6d4ruc,"A Story of Space, left.",Keelan LaForge,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/6d4ruc/,/short-story/6d4ruc/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Contemporary', 'Suspense']",14 likes,"
“They’re not how I thought they’d look at all,” said Rachel, reflectively. “You just assume they’ll look like all the pictures we’ve seen.”
“If you went to Biblical times and saw Jesus, you’d probably think the same thing. People make guesses at things, but they’re usually wrong.”
“It’s hard to be accurate about something you’ve never seen.”
“True,” said Kerry, sighing. “We were lucky not to know anything then - they’re coming in droves now.”
“Yeah, it might take a while, but I think they’ll eventually completely take over.”
“What was wrong with their home planet?”
“I guess they’re like us. They can’t leave anything alone and just been satisfied with what they have.”
Kerry gazed out the window and thought about all the shut down possibilities of the ever-expansive world they’d once had. Since their arrival, everything had taken on a different tone. 
Florida looked changed now, even whenever the aliens weren’t visible. You never knew when you’d run into the next one. She would always remember with glassy clarity the day they first arrived. They’d come in something that was less flying saucer and more space bubble. It looked like it could have been popped with a pin prick. If only. They’d survived and traversed the galaxy in it, and they’d made good time too. They couldn’t communicate the details, but their return trips showed just how quickly they could go there and come back. They hadn’t brought any physical items with them, but they took up a lot of space. 
The streets were mostly bare, the beaches emptied. Kerry had always been used to the coming and goings from the neighbouring beach at Clearwater. People had stopped swimming and they’d stopped sunbathing. She didn’t know why everyone had; maybe it was just because word spreads and people unthinkingly copy each other whenever they’re scared. Kerry had thought she was brave until the aliens’ arrival. It’s hard to be brave when faced with the unknown and they had looked much different to a friendly ET. They were larger than humans and grotesque to their eyes. They didn’t have smiling faces. They didn’t really have faces – just holes for seeing and feeding. They were charcoal grey in colour, with long, spidery limbs. The first person that had spotted them had allegedly dropped dead, dying of heart failure from the sheer shock of the vision before them. They’d found her soulless body, but it had taken a while to attribute it to that. They mightn’t ever have connected the two events had they not had recurrent encounters in that very area. 
Sometimes Kerry wondered why they hit that area first - of all the places on the globe. Was it just a coincidence or did they intentionally select it? It was a place of beauty, but Kerry wondered if it was the most appealing place from bird’s eye view? Maybe they had heard reports of life on Earth before they’d even come in to land. They were a form of intelligent life – more intelligent than humans everywhere – even though humans thought themselves the cleverest of species. If they were, they could have done more to fend them off. It felt like the human population was dwindling and there was no single event they could pin it on. The aliens were taking over in a slow, insidious way. The buildings were being razed to the ground. Kerry hated looking at the rubble. It was unclear what was being put there as replacement for them. The aliens didn’t share their plans. Even if they’d had blueprints, they couldn’t have translated them for human understanding. There was a feeling of finality on Earth – a slow surrender that was spreading across the surface of the world. Broadcasting had broken down. The internet was no longer used. Screens were obsolete. There was no way of communicating between different countries anymore. At first, yes, but then they did away with it all, bit by bit. Kerry kept waiting for something bad to come to her, personally; she just didn’t know exactly when or what it would be. 
She kept her door triple bolted every night – something she had never felt the need to do before 2035. The place she’d lived in was so poster perfect that it felt like nothing untoward could ever have happened there. That’s what made it more shocking and out of the ordinary. Kerry reflected on the pandemic of 2020. It seemed like a mere blip compared with the Alien Invasion. A decade earlier, people still disputed the existence of extra-terrestrial life. It seemed laughable now – the earthly worries they’d had. There had been nothing of that magnitude then; Purely People Problems: that was what they were referred to now and often scoffed at, labelled trivial concerns. 
Every night whenever Kerry went to sleep, she considered the fact it might be her last night on Earth. So many people had disappeared, and no one could say what had happened to them, which made it so much worse. Kerry thought of a few of her closest friends, tearfully. She tried not to dwell on their disappearances too much, because it achieved nothing, and survival had to be her priority. If she could evade the aliens, they couldn’t do what they’d done to the others. But each week, whenever she saw the empty streets, she wondered if it might be better to join the others, wherever they were. She didn’t want to be the last one remaining. That would be petrifying in a way that gathered up every feeling of terror she’d ever experienced and played them out in a single moment. At least Rachel was there too. She wasn’t entirely alone, yet. Her family might have vanished one by one, she might have lost all sense of community and she might have lost every place she’d ever known to the invaders. But she still had Rachel, and each day they met up without anything eventful to tell was a small success. 
For weeks, months and years, they escaped it together. Luck was the only thing that could explain it. It was fitting that they were together whenever they finally had their personal encounter with the aliens. They were toasting each other over a quiet dinner, eating some hearty mac and cheese and cornbread when the tendrils appeared around the doorway, coming to beckon them to their shared fate. They were whisked away, so quickly they couldn’t gasp; the evidence they’d lived and dined there removed - apart from a few cornbread crumbs.
 
 
 
","August 08, 2023 20:50","[[{'Brittany Butler': 'Eeeek! So good. I loved the atmosphere you created - very unsettling. And the description of the aliens was fantastic - clear enough for the reader to get a specific visual, but still mysterious enough to leave a bit to the imagination. Loved it - well done!', 'time': '20:39 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Aw thanks so much Brittany! I’m glad you enjoyed reading it and that you liked the descriptions :) thanks for the encouragement. I really appreciate it!', 'time': '10:43 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Aw thanks so much Brittany! I’m glad you enjoyed reading it and that you liked the descriptions :) thanks for the encouragement. I really appreciate it!', 'time': '10:43 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': ""Whoa! This was as chilling a tale about an alien invasion that I've ever read. The slow, tortuous decline in population, the insidious, mysterious disappearances, and the lack of overt aggression made it all the more appalling and dark. The ending was especially good. This is a very clever, unique take on an alien invasion. Great work, my friend.\n\nCheers!"", 'time': '12:11 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Aw thanks again Delbert, your feedback is always so encouraging and I will really appreciate it :)', 'time': '12:21 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Aw thanks again Delbert, your feedback is always so encouraging and I will really appreciate it :)', 'time': '12:21 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Joe Malgeri': 'Great ideas, Keelan, I enjoyed it, & who knows, something similar may happen some day.', 'time': '21:59 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Thanks Joe. I’m glad you enjoyed it and hopefully not lol', 'time': '07:53 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Thanks Joe. I’m glad you enjoyed it and hopefully not lol', 'time': '07:53 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Crazed depiction of what could be.', 'time': '03:34 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Keelan LaForge': 'That’s what I was going for so thank you 😊', 'time': '07:56 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Keelan LaForge': 'That’s what I was going for so thank you 😊', 'time': '07:56 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Tom Skye': 'Enjoyed this. Very eerie atmosphere, particularly the ending.\n\nGood job', 'time': '21:20 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Thanks Tom, I’m glad you thought so :) Thank you for reading and taking the time to leave feedback :)', 'time': '07:55 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Keelan LaForge': 'Thanks Tom, I’m glad you thought so :) Thank you for reading and taking the time to leave feedback :)', 'time': '07:55 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,rqwkbz,The Neighbour,C. Charles,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/rqwkbz/,/short-story/rqwkbz/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Horror', 'Contemporary']",13 likes,"
Paul was walking towards his car when he noticed his neighbour across the street was just getting into hers. God, she’s weird, he thought. For the three years that he and Emma had lived in their house, they’d never spoken to her. Emma would be home soon so Paul was going to the grocery store to pick up supper. It was Friday and neither of them felt like cooking. He got in the car and started it just as the woman started backing out of her driveway.She left the house multiple times a day and was only ever gone for a short amount of time. Paul had never counted how many times she left in a day but he initially guessed about ten when he and Emma noticed after they moved. They liked to wonder about what she was doing. Maybe she only smokes in the car, they hypothesized. Or maybe she’s going into town to get takeout. Maybe she has OCD and her compulsion is driving.Then they got their dog, Stella. When she was a puppy and Paul had to take her out at all hours, he noticed that the woman left throughout the night too. Then their ideas started getting more and more outlandish. Maybe she’s a drug dealer or an assassin. Or maybe she’s an alien. Whatever it was, she was strange. She lived with a man who appeared to work Monday to Friday. During the Summers, he would get home from work and mow his lawn every other day or so. During the Winter, if it snowed, he would immediately shovel the driveway. She never went outside, only to walk to and from the car. Other than that, nobody ever saw them. Even during the evenings, when most houses had glowing yellow windows as signs of life and activity, their curtains remained drawn and it seemed like there was never a light on in the house.As they got to know their other neighbours, Paul and Emma would try to casually slip the strange couple, especially the woman, into conversation. But anybody they talked to had never met or spoken to them. Paul waited for her to start driving away before he backed out, put the car in gear, and started after her. He rounded the same corner she’d disappeared behind and found a lineup of cars waiting for a school bus to finish dropping some kids off. He was stopped behind her and, even after three years, couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing on her frequent trips. The bus finally began to pull away and the lineup of cars began to move. Paul asked Siri to play some music. They passed the convenience store, then the exit for the bypass. Then the cemetery. With every destination they passed, Paul could feel his curiosity bubbling. He’d joked to Emma that one day he was going to follow her and solve the mystery, and here he was doing it inadvertentlyHe felt a grin spread across his face as he pressed the Bluetooth button in his car and waited for Siri’s helpful bmmm.“Call Emma,” he said.“Calling Emma,” Siri replied as he followed his neighbour past the hockey rink. The phone rang over the car speakers as they drove past the new apartment buildings when Emma picked up.“Hello?” She said.“Hi, what’s up?” Paul asked. “Just on my way home. Are you getting supper?” “Yeah, but you’ll never guess who I’m behind.”“Who?”“Weirdo across the street,” Paul said.“Oh, really? Did you figure out where she’s going?” “No, but I’m gonna keep following her,” Paul said with a laugh.“Oh my god, Paul don’t actually follow her. That’s so weird.”“I’m not gonna like, follow her follow her, but I’m probably gonna find out where she goes. She’s probably just addicted to scratch tickets and going to get some from the gas station,” he said as they approached the traffic light to go toward town. Town, including the restaurants and grocery store where Paul was going, was to the right. Left through the light would take you to Kent, which was just old houses and farms.“Oooh, we’re coming up to the light. Which way is she gonna go?” Paul said.“Oooh, I don’t know,” Emma said, mimicking his sarcastic tone. Paul signaled right just as the woman, to Paul’s surprise, signaled left.“Hey, she’s going to Kent,” he said. “Maybe she knows somebody out there.”“But why would she go at all hours of the day and night?”“Maybe she’s got a secret lover,” Emma joked.“But she leaves when the guy is home too!” Paul said as they slowed to the red light.“I don’t know, maybe he’s cool with it.”“Yeah… maybe… But I doubt she’s going to bang her super-not-so-secret boyfriend twenty times a day!”“You never know!” Emma said. The light turned green.“No… you don’t,” said Paul, switching his signal to the left. Now he was in it. He had to know. “I’m gonna keep following her.”“Paul! Don’t! She’s gonna call the cops or something.”“She’s not going to call the cops,” Paul said, passing the sign for Kent. “And besides, it's not like I have no business over here. If somebody says something, I’ll just say I was on my way to Ted’s.” Ted was Paul’s friend from work and occasionally he and Emma would go there for drinks.“She probably doesn’t go to Kent all the time,” Emma said. Paul rounded the corner where River Road turned into Route 315 and the speed increased. Paul let the neighbour create a gap between them; he didn’t want to be too conspicuous.“Maybe not, but still! Where she goes will be a piece of the puzzle that is this woman’s weird life. Oh, she’s turning into Miller’s Trail!”Miller’s Trail was the unofficial name of a wooded area with a stream that ran through it. People liked to walk there and Paul and Emma took Stella there occasionally.“Don’t follow her in there!”“I won’t, I won’t. I’m going to turn around and go get supper.” Paul said as he drove by the entrance for the trail.“Ok. Thank you. I’m just stopping for gas then I’ll see you at home. Love you.”“Love you too,” Paul said as he turned into one of the side streets to turn around. “Bye,” Emma said before hanging up. Paul completed his U-turn and turned back into the 315. Ok, so she goes to Miller’s trail. At least some of the time anyway, he thought as he approached the trail’s entrance again. But the woman’s SUV wasn’t there. That’s weird, he thought as he drove by, craning his neck. Where’d she go? That's when he saw the light reflect off of something hidden in the bushes. What the fuck? he thought. She hid her car? Did she do that all the time? Had they been there at the same as her and just never crossed paths? Did she ever cross paths with anyone? He took a deep breath.In for a penny, in for a pound. Paul pulled into the nearest driveway, backed out, threw the car into drive, and raced back to the entrance as quickly as he could.The main trail was a large loop and you could go left or right at the beginning. No matter which way you chose at the start, there was a large hill you had to walk up that had been mostly cleared. The stream skirted around it and passed underneath the 315. If Paul was fast, he might be able to see which direction she walked.He pulled into the parking lot and jumped out, running to the fork in the trail at the bottom of the hill. His eyes darted back and forth between the paths, looking for signs of movement.On the left trail, he saw a flash of movement disappear over the top of the hill. He started up the trail after her but stopped. What am I doing? He thought. This is a little too intense. You’re going off the rails here.He turned to go back to his car when his eyes happened to settle on the hidden SUV and he stopped. He couldn’t help but wonder again at how many times they’d been there while she was somewhere in the woods. And why did she hide the car? In for a penny, in for a pound.“Fuck it,” Paul said as he turned back toward the trail she’d taken. Emma would be mad at him, but the curiosity was overwhelming. “Curiosity killed the cat,” popped into his head. And satisfaction brought it back, he thought.He jogged up the hill as quietly as he could. But, when he reached the top, she was gone. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He started down the trail, walking fast. He decided that he would walk for a few hundred feet and if he didn’t find her, he would turn back. He was scanning his surroundings but didn’t see anything. He was about to turn back when he saw it in the mud. A fresh footprint heading into the woods. It had to be her.He started into the woods in the direction of the footprint, his mind racing to think of an excuse if he was confronted. He felt compelled to know what she was doing, possessed by the mystery. Satisfaction brought it back.He wove through the woods toward the stream, careful not to make too much noise on the leaves underfoot. Paul stepped around a tree and there she was, standing stock still at the edge of the stream, about sixty feet away. He couldn’t see her face, just her blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He ducked behind a tree. Fuck, I didn’t see her in time. There’s no way she didn’t hear me, he thought.But he didn’t hear anything. He peeked around the tree. She hadn’t moved. She was still standing there, exactly as she had been when Paul first saw her. Then something dawned on him. If she doesn’t know I’m here now, she’s gonna when she’s finished doing whatever she’s doing and leaves. Now what?The woman jerked and made Paul flinch. Then she jerked again. She doubled over as if in pain and it looked like she was heaving, like she was about to puke. What the fuck am I watching? The woman snapped back to the position she’d been in, standing perfectly still. But now, something was moving in front of her, it was pink and wiggling. What the fuck is that? Then a chill rolled down his spine and his body prickled with realization.It was a tentacle, or at least that’s what it looked like. And it wasn’t pink. It was white and coated with blood. It was coming out of the woman’s mouth.Paul’s hand shot up to his mouth as the woman doubled over again and the tentacle writhed towards the ground, stretching and reaching. It slapped against the ground, leaves, and dirt sticking to the wet probing limb. The only sound in the woods other than the stream was the sound of the rustling leaves.As the tentacle revealed more of itself, he could see it growing thicker and it was being coated with more, darker blood. The woman’s body began to jerk and twist. She turned sideways so that Paul could see some of her face. Her mouth was stretched to the limit like a snake swallowing something too big. Paul’s legs grew weak and he sank to the ground, watching the grotesque display. His stomach protested, threatening to vomit, but he forced it back.His neighbour’s mouth began to tear at the edges, like a Glasgow smile and blood began to run, dripping onto the ground in a growing stream. Like a seam ripping, her cheek tore to the edges of her jaw and the tip of a second probing tentacle emerged from her cheek.Paul began to hyperventilate as the woman stood up again, her nails digging at the tear in her cheek. The fingers seemed to find their mark in the tear and began to pull, allowing the tentacles more room to wriggle.Her hand pulled harder and harder, and blood spurted and gushed while the tentacles writhed and groped for something to grab onto. The woman’s stance finally broke and she stumbled, her torso twisting and spraying blood across the leaf-covered ground. She slammed hard into a small tree and the first tentacle wrapped itself tightly around. Paul couldn’t help but start to scream at the horror in front of him. Whatever was in there, was trying to pull itself out.There was a squelching crack and the woman’s head burst open with a fountain of blood, the top half of her skull hanging on by skin and tissue. It lolled against her shoulder, revealing the tips of more blood-covered tentacles. Paul wanted to run, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen with fear.The tentacles squirmed. They slid out of the opening, one by one, and managed to wrap themselves around the tree. Paul watched them flex with effort and the tree began to bend with the weight. The woman’s body seemed to be fighting to stay upright.The tentacles began to swing the body violently, trying to free whatever was still in the body.!!! KAAAARCH-ELSSSSHHHHH !!!The woman’s body bifurcated. The entire mass crumpled to the ground into a pile of flesh and guts, blood running down the bank and into the stream. There was silence for a few seconds before Paul vomited. He looked up at the destroyed body and saw something writhing in the gore. Something white.The tentacles began to reach across the ground and pull themselves slowly out of what was left of the woman’s body, writhing against the dry rasp of leaves. The tentacles were dragging a large white mass behind it like an Octopus. It stopped at the edge of the bank and turned. Paul couldn’t see its eyes, but he could feel them on him. It stared at him for a few moments before the white, octopus-like mass, slipped into the stream. Paul slowly got to his feet, staring at the spot where the thing disappeared. The stream began to ripple. Something started rising out of it where the thing had gone under, water running off of it. Paul thought it looked like the top of a sea anemone, with fleshy white fronds standing at attention. It continued to rise out of the water, the fronds tapering into a white stalk, about as thick as a tree. Paul began to back away as it continued to reach out of the stream. Ten feet. Fifteen. Twenty. Paul started to scream and turned to run out of the woods. He had to tell Emma. He had to contact the police. The military. Anybody.He made it out of the woods and back onto the trail and began to sprint back to the car. Paul couldn’t help but look over his shoulder. He stopped in fear and awe, trying to catch his breath. The anemone-like thing had stopped rising. Now it towered above the trees.After a few moments, the fronds began to vibrate and the air above them began to wave, like heat coming off asphalt on a hot day. A throbbing, low, menacing whistle filled the air. Dark clouds took shape above the thing at incredible speed and billowed away. It looked like those time-lapses of a storm forming.Paul, terrified, heard his phone begin to blare in his pocket over the pulsing whistle. It was an alert. He pulled it out with shaking hands.SPECIAL WEATHER STATEMENT: SEVERE STORM AND TORRENTIAL RAIN IMMINENT. SEEK SHELTERHe tried to call Emma, but there was no service. He looked skyward. There was nothing but dark, ominous clouds as far as he could see. They burst open and rain began to fall in torrential sheets. It would never stop raining.*	*	*“For God’s sake Paul, WE HAVE TO GO! PLEASE!” Emma sobbed as she stood at the door, holding Stella in her arms. The car was packed. They only had three-quarters of a tank and a jerry canful, but it would have to do. “I know, I’m ready,” Paul said with a sob as he took one last look around the house for anything they might need. Paul had told Emma what he’d seen, that there were probably thousands of them living inside humans and who knows how many more of those anemone things. She was speechless when he told her the story, but she believed him. No one else believed though. He thought if they acted fast enough, maybe they could stop whatever those things were.Paul told Emma how he thought they’d been here for a long time, growing whatever those rain-making anemones were, biding their time. He went to the police but they told him to take his conspiracy theories elsewhere; they had a natural disaster on their hands. He didn’t know how to contact the military.It had been raining for two days straight. Before the power went out and their phones died, they had learned it was raining over every square inch of the planet, confirming Paul’s theory. Those things were everywhere. It never would stop raining on Earth. Paul opened the door, and they rushed out into the rain. They weren’t even sure where they would go; most of the roads around them were submerged in rushing flood waters or washed away entirely. But they had to try. They ran through the ankle-deep water to their car. They backed out of the driveway and looked at their house for the last time. They both turned to look at their neighbour’s house across the street. The man’s car was still there. How many times did we wonder? they both thought before driving away.
","August 12, 2023 02:28","[[{'Derrick M Domican': 'Hell yeah ! This is wonderful. Completely captivating I felt like I was there with Paul watching what was happening. There are some slight similarities between our stories this week lol but mine is more tongue in cheek. \nLoved this, this should be a winner', 'time': '19:37 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Ps in last paragraph you left out the word no in no one', 'time': '19:39 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'C. Charles': 'Oh wow! Thank you so much! I will check your story out! I submitted this pretty late; finished just in the nick of time so I definitely still have some edits to make, but thanks for the catch! Hopefully I get them in before it’s approved- if it’s approved lol', 'time': '21:10 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Ps in last paragraph you left out the word no in no one', 'time': '19:39 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'C. Charles': 'Oh wow! Thank you so much! I will check your story out! I submitted this pretty late; finished just in the nick of time so I definitely still have some edits to make, but thanks for the catch! Hopefully I get them in before it’s approved- if it’s approved lol', 'time': '21:10 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'C. Charles': 'Oh wow! Thank you so much! I will check your story out! I submitted this pretty late; finished just in the nick of time so I definitely still have some edits to make, but thanks for the catch! Hopefully I get them in before it’s approved- if it’s approved lol', 'time': '21:10 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,90atlt,EXIT INTERVIEW,Soleil Tron,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/90atlt/,/short-story/90atlt/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction']",13 likes,"
   Candee Wallace adjusted the lapel microphone clipped to the neckline of her pink silk dress, smoothed its knee-length hem, tapped a fingertip against her left and right false eyelashes to make sure they were securely in place and waited for the most monumental interview of her life to begin. 
   The cameraman zoomed in closer; three seconds now. Candee took a deep breath, tilted her head slightly, and beamed her most dazzling smile to the entire world.
   “As you all know, this is an unprecedented television broadcast. Today, before your eyes, I will conduct an interview that will be broadcast for the first time worldwide, live, in real-time. 
This unique technology has been granted to us for this interview by today’s guest, an alien being from another planet.” Candee’s usually cheerful large blue eyes were dead serious now as she gave an equally stern nod. 
   “That’s right, folks,” she continued. “We here at Best News Now Network were chosen to conduct this interview by our alien visitors from a worldwide pool of news networks offered to them. So here we are on this historical day to finally welcome to Earth an alien visitor who has agreed to answer any questions I might have. As I said before, this interview is being broadcast live; this is not CGI but real.” Candee let her statement sink in momentarily before rising from her beige boucle set chair. 
   “For this interview, we will be using a universal translator also provided by our guest so that everyone worldwide can understand our guest in their local language.” Candee gazed directly into the camera for dramatic effect.
   “Without further ado, people of the world, It is my profound pleasure to introduce our guest.” Candee gave a slight bow and held out her right hand in welcome.
   From behind the stage curtain, a very tall, slender being stepped forward and strode across the set stage to take Candee’s outstretched, perfectly manicured hand.
   It resembled a human in almost every way except for its height and the gray-green color of its smooth, featureless torso. It appeared to wear no clothing, or at least no type of clothing that anyone on Earth had ever seen.
   Its head was slightly larger than usual, and its eyes as well, but not the oversized slanted black eyes of the stereotypical extraterrestrial of popular culture. This being’s oversized eyes had a pupil and an iris but were a light opalescent green color that reflected flashes of lavender underneath the studio lights. It appeared to have a normal-looking nose and mouth with evenly spaced, slightly blue-tinted teeth.
   It held Candee’s hand in its large, long-fingered hand and politely bowed to the cameras. Candee motioned to a beige boucle chair that matched her own but was slightly oversized to accommodate the being’s long legs and arms.
   “On behalf of our planet, welcome to Earth,” Candee said, taking a seat and smiling at her guest. She smoothed her already sleek blonde bob and glanced at the small stack of notecards she now held. “Before we begin, what would you like us to call you? What is your name?”
   The alien turned to face the camera lens. “You can call me Dean,”
 It spoke in a pleasantly deep voice with a casual-sounding American midwestern accent. It seemed to display a Mona Lisa-type smile on its face.
   Candee appeared to be shocked for only a beat; she gave her most professional smile and continued. “Well, then, Dean, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” she nodded.
   “May I ask if you are a male or female of your species?” she inquired.
   “Neither one, actually,” Dean answered. “ We really don’t have a set gender.”
   “I see,” Candee said. “I’d like to expand on that question a little later, but for now, could you tell me what brought you to our planet?”
   “Sure,” Dean nodded at the camera. “So, we have actually been here for quite a while now. Like close to two hundred thousand years, give or take.”
   “Really?” Candee spoke, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Why, then, have your species decided to contact us now? Have you contacted human beings before in the period that you have been here? I’m sorry, I seem to be getting ahead of myself, but why have you been here for such a long period of time?”
   “Our planetary studies usually run about 200K, more or less.” Dean nodded. “To answer your question about prior contact, honestly, would you want to plunge yourself face-first into an ant den?”
   Candee stared, entirely at a loss for words for a moment. “Well, I see. All right then,” she fumbled with her stack of cards. 
   “That sounds pretty harsh, but you guys are nuts,” Dean said. “Always fighting over piles of dirt as far as we can tell, for two hundred thousand years, Geez.”
   “Is there no such thing as war or conflict among your species?” Candee asked. “And if not, how did your species evolve peacefully?”
   “We got the same instructions from day one, just like you guys. The only difference is we followed the rules; you guys never have.” Dean spoke, raising its palms in the air.
   “Are you speaking of instructions from a higher power? From a God or God himself as we call him in some religions of Earth?” Candee asked, leaning forward.
   “Let’s just say from a higher power,” Dean stated calmly. “I have to be careful what I say here, Whew. I don’t want to start another World War.” It shook its head.
   “Let’s backtrack just a bit,” Candee composed herself. “Why did you initially choose to study our planet?”
   “We choose planetary studies based on whether or not they have emerging intelligent life. If the emerging intelligence seems promising, that is, if we think they might eventually be able to join us in the cosmos, we reveal ourselves, welcome them to the club, give them a hand.”
   “I see, so is that what your species is doing with our planet? Revealing yourselves to welcome us to the cosmos?” she smiled and nodded to the camera.
   “No way,” Dean said, shaking its head. “We revealed ourselves to you to let you know that we have completed our studies, and we’re out of here. We just wanted to clear up the confusion over UAPs or UFOs and let you know our findings, for the record.”
   “If I understand correctly, your species has decided not to help or welcome us at all?” 
   “Nope.” Dean shrugged. “We can’t help you; you guys would just use any tech stuff or knowledge we hand over to create weapons for more pile of dirt wars.”
   Candee stared at Dean; her lips pressed into a firm line. “What about medical knowledge? Wouldn’t that be useful to people suffering from incurable diseases? Think of the good that might come of helping us to overcome our worst diseases.”
   Dean shook its head. “ It’s our policy only to help intelligent life we deem worthy of helping.” 
   “What are we as human beings to do then? What could we do to make ourselves worthy of help?” Candee asked in frustration.
   “Maybe in another 200K?” Dean shrugged. “ You guys can’t even take care of your planet. You are constantly trying to devise new ways to destroy each other. And the way you treat animals? You guys are messed up.”
   Candee looked down at her stack of cards. “Is it possible that your species might return sometime in the future to check on our progress?” 
   “No way.” Dean smiled. 
   “Are there other species of intelligent life in the cosmos that might be willing to help humankind in any way, technologically or medically? To give us a boost?” Candee asked, hopefully.
   “Nope,” Dean said, shrugging its large shoulders. “They’ve all come to the same conclusion; you guys are pretty hopeless.”
   Candee sighed and placed her cards face down in her lap. “Well then, Dean, would you tell us where you’re from? What planet did your species originate from?”
   “No, I’m not giving you guys that information. We really don’t want humans visiting us in the future.” Dean smiled and shrugged again. 
   “ I see. So you agreed to this interview today to inform humankind that your two hundred thousand-year study is over, that we have failed, and that we have no redeeming qualities as a species?” she stated flatly.
   “That pretty much sums it up,” Dean said, nodding at the camera.
   Candee laid her stack of cards on the oval coffee table between them, folded her hands in her lap, and faced the camera; the sparkle in her eyes transformed into a blank stare.
   “Well, people of Earth, you’ve heard what our historic alien guest, Dean, has had to say. I guess that concludes our interview. On behalf of our Best News Now Network, and planet Earth, I thank Dean for taking the time to be with us today.” she said. 
   Dean slowly rose from its chair, bowed toward Candee and the camera lens, and vanished into a sparkling whirlwind of purple light.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
","August 10, 2023 20:06","[[{'Michał Przywara': 'Ha! That\'s quite funny :) Dean\'s tone, and its flat out honest ""no way"" responses, sell it. Though, Candee does seem like a professional, given her composure. \n\nAn amusing interview - thanks for sharing!', 'time': '20:38 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Soleil Tron': 'Thank you!', 'time': '17:07 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Soleil Tron': 'Thank you!', 'time': '17:07 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Janis Cannon-Bowers': ""Very nice job--I just wish Dean's assessment wasn't so accurate."", 'time': '21:46 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Soleil Tron': 'Exactly! Thank you!', 'time': '17:08 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Soleil Tron': 'Exactly! Thank you!', 'time': '17:08 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Georgia Blair': ""I loved EXIT INTERVIEW, and Dean's matter-of-fact assessment of humanity. \n\nI want to laugh, but I fear there may be too much truth here to be comfortable laughing... \n\nGood work!"", 'time': '13:26 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Soleil Tron': 'Thank you!!', 'time': '17:19 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Soleil Tron': 'Thank you!!', 'time': '17:19 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Welcome to Reedsy with your first entry. Very logical conclusion on the part of the aliens.\U0001fae4We would seem pretty hopeless.\n\nThanks for reading and liking my theory.', 'time': '00:59 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Soleil Tron': 'Thanks!!', 'time': '17:20 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Soleil Tron': 'Thanks!!', 'time': '17:20 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,s3b9ly,The Great Reset,Cecilia Englishby,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/s3b9ly/,/short-story/s3b9ly/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fantasy', 'Fiction']",12 likes,"
Calli sat quietly, at least for the moment, within the four black-foamed walls of her recording studio. She was annotating some tabs with her right hand whilst she carefully held her precious Taylor guitar by the neck with the left, its body cradling in her lap.The visitors had arrived five days earlier, and she had found herself flushed with inspiration ever since. She and Snaggletooth, her little black Burmese feline companion, had spent the most of their time within the soundproof walls since Their arrival. He yawned at her, licking his lips as he blinked affectionately. “I suppose we must.” She sighed at him. She placed her Taylor in its stand, stood and stretched. He bowed low at her side, extending the base of his spine and tail skywards. She fished the small key from her pocket and unlocked the door; it took another minute before she actually opened it. Her anxiety had found her. Snaggletooth reminded her of the task at hand, providing a plaintive Meep just as he brushed up against her left calf.“You need to go, don’t you?” She grabbed the handle and opened the door. He trotted off in the direction of his litter tray. She followed, only just noticing her need to void her own bladder, and made a hurried dash for relief as well. As she washed her hands she heard Snaggletooth’s frantic scratches in his litter tray, he was covering his business with aggression. He had such a sweet and gentle temperament that the pure hatred he had for his messes always made her laugh.She turned on the news as she prepared dinner, but left it on mute. She needed neither the noise nor the information, she’d already had enough.Snaggletooth had been fed and was once more asleep in the recording studio, blending perfectly into the walls with his sable camouflage.Five days prior, six Spaceships had been spotted through the telescope of an amateur astronomer who posted pictures on every available platform. Within minutes, thousands more had joined them.The morning after, the first Official day... Those images were all over every news channel, and stayed there 24/7. They set a specific order for their display and maintained it the entire time.First - The Saucer: The most familiar looking, with amber and turquoise lights flashing beneath.Second - The Scorpion: Complete with pincers and stinger, but no legs.Third - The Beetle: It was the image of a colossal Mint beetle.Fourth - The Architects: A large dish with a frame connected below housed an elaborate propulsion system.Fifth - The Hexagon: All they could say for sure was that it was the biggest in the entire fleet.Sixth - The Uber-Claw: A mass of forward facing spikes rested on a looming cycle-shaped vessel.The second day saw reports and sightings on what they considered scout ships. They flew with impossible flight patterns that defied physics. Calli watched in fascination as terrifying information blazed a trail on her brain.It was on the third day she turned the volume down, already tired of the bombardment… of the unknown and speculation. She did it after breakfast; the entire London Philharmonic Orchestra had disappeared. They had been practicing one moment, and were gone the next.The executives engaged in a meeting regarding funding implored the government to take action.On the fourth, humans did what humans do; they attacked. Nuclear missiles and bright atom-splitting flashes dotted their observations briefly, followed by decadent auroras that traveled for thousands of miles over the atmosphere. For hours, all electronics stopped working and the world waited. As the auroras dissipated and the planet reconnected, telescopes spotted six ships, sitting where they had been, completely unscathed.On day five, Calli had written some of her best music yet. She’d happily allowed the distraction to spend her day for her.She ate her dinner, but found she had little appetite. Hating to waste anything, she finished it laboriously… one ashen bite at a time. To help distract her, she played a recording of her earlier work. She had every intention of getting a few more bars down before she would go to bed.She heard Snaggletooth’s distinctive Chirrup of hello. She looked back as he trotted over to be closer to the music….at least that was how it appeared to Calli. He lay down next to her phone, chirped again and blinked at her… purring in full force as he watched her finish dinner.It was as she lengthily chewed on her final bite, reducing the matter into tiny fragments that might want to slide down her throat, that everything went sideways.She had reached over to scratch Snaggletooth’s forehead. He responded in the cutest way possible by lifting his chin and pushing into her affections… then they both sort of… dematerialised.She watched it happen to her Beloved, as well as her hand. It didn’t hurt; they just broke apart into their molecular components, essentially pixelating as matter expanded outwards from their centers. Light filled the spaces between and within the room equally... and somehow contained them. Snaggletooth re-solidified before her eyes, as did her hand and forearm. She stroked his fur for a while, inciting lavish purrs as her fingers mussed his muzzle. It calmed her, as much as she could be calmed, and reaffirmed her of their shared existence.She was in an empty room with cream tones. She had a bed, a toilet, shower, basin, three walls and a dark glass panel to act as the fourth. She was in a cage, one with a display panel.Her breathing felt a bit rapid, but scratching Snaggletooth’s ears helped her keep her cool.If this is a dream, then there is nothing to worry about. If it is not, then I am here and that’s just what I need to be dealing with now.  She repeated the words over and over, stroking whiskers, ears and shoulders absentmindedly.“Well that wasn’t supposed to happen.” The voice sounded worried and came from behind her. She turned around and saw a small green Alien; like the type you saw on retro lunch-boxes; with the large heads, thin necks and glassy black eyes. The Dark glass was now transparent and Calli noticed many others in cages like hers, most of their panes dark.The Alien drew her attention. “If you could just step away from the feline, I shall return it.”Calli stepped in front of Snaggletooth, blocking him from the Alien’s view, not removing her hand from his shoulders. She was too overwhelmed, to full of words and ideas and complete terror to speak.“Look.” It said, sounding official. “Pets and comforts will be decided later. From what I hear, it will be an improvement, so let’s get on with it.”“Snaggletooth is perfect!“ Her voice croaked, finally having pulled enough intelligible words together to come out in sentences. “Where he goes, I go.”“Leave it Deso.” A gruff and clicking voice came from Calli’s right. She tried to get a better look, but the owner was out of sight. “Orders from Aspect One are to keep our guests happy. I removed a canine from one the other day and he didn’t stop crying till I returned it.”A moment passed between them in silence, then Deso nodded.“That’s fine then.” He looked Calli up and down; then took a long look at Snaggletooth. He made some notes on a pad in front of him. “Your nutrition and information pack will arrive shortly. I have made suitable arrangements for your companion.” And with that, he hit an invisible button and the window went dark once more.Within minutes, a small light she hadn’t known was there was flashing on the wall ahead of her. She stepped up and examined it. She stepped back, looking for lines in the walls but saw none. She pressed against the wall beside the light switch and found the desired result on the left hand side. A small panel, not much larger than her hand depressed into the wall, and with a click a large cupboard swung open. Within she found a litter tray and the best wooden litter. On the right sat a large binder and two identical silver platters, complete with domed lids.She knew she had no right to be hungry but heard her stomach groan for sustenance. She lifted the lid and was greeted by the perfect creamy mushroom Tagliatelle.She set it down and sorted out Snaggletooth’s litter tray first; then uncovered his platter to reveal fresh fish flakes covered lavishly in gravy. He sniffed the air once then meowed loudly. By the time she had set it down he was practically rumbling in anticipation.He had devoured his meal by the time she had washed her hands and sat down to her own. Calli inhaled her dinner with similar gusto. Each swallowed bite felt like nutrients were flooding her body, restoring energy she was unaware of having lacked.Snaggletooth had groomed himself at length; then settled on the bed, curling his tail around his face. Calli yawned as she set their dishes aside and settled next to him with the Information Pack.It contained very little, like the file had been used for something else, and had just been copied and updated with a couple of anecdotes.... The only upside was that her anxiety had been quelled by bafflement and a full stomach. Each vessel had their own file and she quickly sorted them into the order she had become used to. The Saucer:Vessel Name: Kovai 315 – Housing Capacity: 5 Million.Species: Dov’Lesian. The picture was that of the short green Alien with the large head.Turns out that it was their scout-ship that crashed in Roswell in the 1947; Earth’s media had been drip feeding their image to the general public via films and such ever since so possible encounters at least provided some familiarity.Ha! The movie Paul actually said the same thing! The Scorpion:Vessel Name: Crit-Shil Hefto – Housing Capacity: 7 Million.Species: The Shias Mari. The picture showed a creature that looked vaguely like a praying mantis. She shuddered at the sight of its mandibles and moved on to the next file. The Beetle:Vessel Name: Falci: Densiari Class – Housing Capacity: 13 Million.Species: Raftaisee. Their appearance was a little easier to take in. They looked like large bears with antlers; they wore sashes as far as she could tell, and had rich fur. The Architects:Vessel Name: Broad Nea 114 – Housing Capacity: 19 Million.Species: Hapor. They were the closest to human yet. Their eyes were bigger, further apart and their brows heavier. Their skulls sloped backwards over their necks, supporting large brains. They reminded Calli of Neanderthals. The Hexagon:Vessel Name: Hexo-118.4.56 – Housing Capacity: 31 Million.Species: Doh’Shixt. Calli felt her skin crawl and her spine twist as she stared at what appeared to be an over-sized hornet. She moved on from their file as well. The Uber-Claw: Vessel Name: Falcon Alpha - Warship – Housing Capacity: 23 Million.Species: Human. She hastily pulled out the picture and there they were… Human! Her mind raced with the possibilities and she highly doubted her ability to sleep.She put the folder down, got herself comfortable and yawned with no grace at all. Within minutes she had drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.Snaggletooth’s incessant and aggressive covering of his scat woke her. She groggily took care of her own ablutions as he meowed at her to get rid of his mess.“I don’t see a scoop buddy... It will have to wait till I can ask for one.”They sat together for a few moments, feeling their restlessness grow within them. It was just as Snaggletooth was singing the most impressive Maaaaow that the light on the wall started flashing.One quick push on the wall popped the cupboard open. Within she found two breakfast platters, a scoop and litter bags, some fresh clothes and a note to please put all used items back in the cupboard once done.They must at least be listening! They were halfway through breakfast, eggs on toast for Calli and a meaty bowl of broth for Snaggletooth, when the dark window activated. The same Alien from the night before stood before her.“Morning.” He said monotonously.“Morning Deso.” Calli replied, hoping she had recognized him correctly, and that they didn’t just all look alike to her.“You know my name? ”He appeared to be wiggling in delight. “Thank you. Is there anything you need.”“Um… No thank you.” Calli regretted her words instantly. “Um… wait. Ah…Why am I here? What’s happening? Can I have a guitar please? Why was ship capacity important? Are we all going somewhere?”“Hmmm.” He said, narrowing his eyes rather impressively in his large head. “I can only answer the third question. Yes. As for the rest, you will find out.”Before Calli could ask anything else, he deactivated her window.A few moments later a guitar arrived. It was nice, but it wasn’t her Taylor. The next nine days ran the same for Calli. Deso was kind but reticent; he gave her no new information. She occasionally saw others in similar boxes talking to their own Aliens. She had noticed and keenly observed the other species represented in the fleet.The Hornets and Praying Mantises creeped her out… she studied them, but gagged whenever she looked at them too long.Deso and his Dov’Lesian compatriots were the most plentiful, and they did sort of all look alike… only Deso appeared different to her.She enjoyed watching the Bears run. It was so ungainly on two feet. When she asked why they didn’t just run on all fours, as she was told that it was forbidden when working in conjunction with bipedal species. The Neanderthals were among the rarest, and Calli only ever saw them from a distance.As for Humans? She only ever saw them in cages similar to her own.The morning of day eleven dawned and commenced as normal. Calli was midway through the best riff of her life when her window cleared…She’d noticed the shift within her periphery, but had been so engrossed she ignored it for half a bar… then action and perception clicked into gear, completely out of sync. Her guitar screamed at her as she ran into the wrong note and ruined the entire thing.She was actually angry as she looked at the window, then stopped short and held her breath.A Human Being stood before her. Black hair, tawny eyes and skin, young and elegantly dressed in a navy uniform, emblazoned with two chevrons on either shoulder.“That was rather beautiful.” He said casually. “Except for the end there, but that’s my fault.” Calli let her breath out in an explosive sigh. He just laughed at her. “Can we talk for a minute?”She nodded in reply.“Let’s start with your name?” He asked, not unkindly.“Calli” She replied. “It’s short for Calliope. My mother loved Greek mythology.” She shrugged.He didn’t respond. Calli stood there for a moment; then found her voice.“Why am I here? Where am I? When can I go home? What’s happening?” It all rattled out of her like a mudslide. He held his hands up, smiling as he tried to stop her.“Right… I think I can do this in order. First; you are here because you are a musician.” He put a hand back up as Calli had taken an interrupting breath. She stilled, but felt the energy of her words bubbling below her tongue. “Second; you are on the Dov’Lesian ship along with other Artists. Painters, musicians, authors, so forth. Third; you can go home in a few weeks’ time, perhaps a bit longer. It will depend on how quickly we get our task completed, but things are going well, so sooner rather than later.”Calli remained silent, and wondered if he had forgotten the fourth question. He had looked at her with a pensive expression on his face.“The last question is harder to answer. If I am to put it down for what it truly is, and I think I should, it will be harsh… Essentially, we’ve already exterminated 60% of your species. When that’s done, we’ll fix a few things… then return you.”Calli’s mouth fell open in pure shock. She felt feint.“You are a seed planet; one specifically engineered and maintained for our amusement.”“Amusement?” Calli’s head tolled with his words as they reverberated in her skull.“Think of yourselves as Our Streaming platform. Earth 13.11” he was smiling again, just as kindly as he did before. If he knew of the devastation he wrought, he simply didn’t care. “We use Jupiter’s magnetic field to actually bounce your footage back to us.”“That’s disgusting.” Was all she could manage; her intellect had been replaced by the sure knowledge that 60% of the remaining population was already dead, and there was nothing she could do to save the other 40%.“Not really. What’s been Disgusting is the quality of Earth’s content of late. Careers end as jokes are told, your films lack variety; we tire of politics, superheroes and dystopian endings. And let’s not get started on how you’ve ruined your internet… the entire planet’s collective knowledge at your fingertips… now flooded with misinformation. I am sorry, but if we leave you to proceed as you are, we will have another Dark Age. Then we…”He droned on, but she had stopped listening completely.Calli sat back down, and reached to scratch Snaggletooth behind the ears. She felt numb and distant.“Well, I’ll get going then. Have a good day!” He said cheerily. The window had been left clear. She stared out numbly and saw everyone else’s windows also left open.They’re faces only served to expose her own tumultuous emotions…
","August 11, 2023 17:51","[[{'Sir Enda': 'Being a bit of a Sci-Fi nut, I love this and want to see it made into a movie.', 'time': '13:31 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Cecilia Englishby': '😀😂 You are too kind. Thank you so much XxX', 'time': '17:01 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Cecilia Englishby': '😀😂 You are too kind. Thank you so much XxX', 'time': '17:01 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Khadija S. Mohammad': ""Sorry I didn't get to this sooner! Just don't have much time at the moment but have been looking forward to reading this for 3 days.\n\nLove it! Like Ronel said, unique concept. Really interesting. Amazing story!!"", 'time': '08:41 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Cecilia Englishby': 'You are amazing thank you so much 😊\nAnd never stress about it. You have a whole life of your own with stories to write. I appreciate the feedback and support! ❤️', 'time': '17:02 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Cecilia Englishby': 'You are amazing thank you so much 😊\nAnd never stress about it. You have a whole life of your own with stories to write. I appreciate the feedback and support! ❤️', 'time': '17:02 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Ronel Steyn': 'Ooohhh, very unique concept. I like your main character. She is very relatable. Well done!', 'time': '11:37 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Cecilia Englishby': 'Thank you so much as always for the support and for reading. I really like that you enjoy my stories.', 'time': '12:35 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Cecilia Englishby': 'Thank you so much as always for the support and for reading. I really like that you enjoy my stories.', 'time': '12:35 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,czam2e,Lysar's Report,Ralph Aldrich,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/czam2e/,/short-story/czam2e/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Mystery', 'Science Fiction']",12 likes,"
It has been thirty-five years since the Pulverteains invaded and attempted to wipe out the whole human race. Their attack was swift and precise. Their reason for doing so was based on observations over the centuries of watching them evolve and concluding that humans were too violent and destructive to indulge in space travel.  So the Pulverteains decided to stop them from ever leaving the planet. The Pulverteains resembled humans in many ways, except for some internal organs and outward appearances. They tend to be very fair-skinned with heavily hooded eyes that slant upward in the corners, plus they all have black hair.
           After the invasion, they began transforming Earth to their liking by tearing down all that was human and replacing them with their cities and factories.  They also created large areas for agriculture where they cultivated crops suitable for Pulverteains.
           The Pulverteains are what you might call an eco-friendly race so that in terraforming Earth, they could reverse the damage done by humans and thus stop the effects of climate change. Soon the oceans, air, lakes, and streams reverted to their pre-human state.  As a result, wildlife and forests grew and flourished, with many near-extinct species multiplying.
           There is still much work to make the planet safe again, such as cleaning up old toxic waste dumps and safely closing and removing nuclear power plants and atomic weapons depots. The Pulverteains have built a recycling factory on the moon to reclaim much of the reusable materials.
           Their attempt to eradicate the human race was not as successful as they had hoped. There are several pockets of them hidden in remote locations around the world. These survivors refer to themselves as survivalists or underground resistance, attacking Pulverteain outposts and disrupting power plants. The Pulverteains view all such renegades as a nuisance they will soon crush into oblivion. Consequently, a specially trained group of troopers led by Lt.Lysar has received a deployment notice to the Pacific Northwest. There is a disturbance in the lush rainforest of what used to be British Columbia.
 
           Their destination is in the area formally known as Tumbler Ridge. It is a geo-park of sights to behold.  So many waterfalls, unique rock formations, alpine meadows, lakes, canyons, and caves fill the area. The raw beauty of the overflow of wilderness takes back Lt. Lyzar.  Black bears and grizzlies call the rainforest home among other wildlife sheltering in the two-thousand-year-old giant trees. Bald eagles soar in the clear blue skies and hunt fish in the pristine lakes. They build their nests on the mountain cliffs. The troop’s objective is to reach a stone outcropping that contains a few caves that could shelter the renegades.
           Lyzar’s unit consists of himself and four other highly trained scouts. They enter the rainforest by traveling through a lush moss-covered grove and marsh, looking for signs of humans. There is an outpost just south of this area where the confrontation has occurred. They entered the forest around noon and traveled for several hours before coming to a small vale with a stream running through it.
           Lt. Lyzar is a highly focused leader that stands about six feet tall, is slightly balding, and sports a pencil-style mustache. His men are entirely devoted to him and trust him explicitly. Lysar’s unit consists of three privates, Manama, Thais, and Usir. The remaining trooper is Sargent Oloo, the unit’s tracker and sharp-shooter. Following procedure, Lyzar orders to set up camp and make it secure. Manama is sent to dig a latrine by the forest’s edge. Private Thais is the communications officer and establishes contact with HQ.  Usir assembles the portable stove to prepare the evening meal as Sargent Oloo and Lt. Lyzar study the terrain map to seek the best way to the stone outcropping. Pvt. Thea knocks on the tent post, and Lyzar tells him to enter.
           “Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I’m ready to turn on the alarm sensors, but Manama hasn’t returned from digging the latrine. When I went to tell him, he wasn’t there, just his shovel sticking out of the ground.”
           It is already growing dark as Lyzar and Thea go to the site to look for Manama and shine their flashlights on the half-dug hole.
           “It doesn’t look like there has been a struggle.” Lyzar comments.
           ”Look here, Sir!”  Thea points to Manama’s crushed, bloody helmet lying a few feet away. Upon further inspection, they can see marks in the wet leaves where Manama was dragged away. Lyzar notices that there aren’t any footprints accompanying them, just sizable, deep impressions. Starting to feel vulnerable to attack, they return to camp.
           Lyzar informs his men upon his return, “We’ll search for Manama in the morning as it is too dark and the forest is too dense.” Then, turning to Thea, he commands, “I want you to inform HQ what happened and notify them of our plan. Meanwhile, let’s reinforce our security boundaries, say about another fifty feet further out. Set them to alarm us if anything weighing about one hundred and fifty pounds crosses their beams.”
           At about four a.m.the shrill sound of the alarm has everyone leaping from their sleeping sacks to rush to the monitor to see what’s going on. Unfortunately, the monitor does not have a video screen but instead shows a white dot like a radar monitor.
           “ It’s probably a grizzly bear,” Lysar says while indicating where the monitor shows the weight to be over eight hundred pounds. No sooner has he said this than the dot disappears from the screen.
           Pvt Thea announces in a controlled and professional manner, “The intruder has destroyed marker seven and is approaching marker three. It appears to be heading our way, Sir.”
           Oloo grabs his rifle and attaches a night vision scope to it. “I’ll see if I can spot it and drive it away.”
 
           Oloo appears as a white dot near the bottom of the screen, and everyone watches with anticipation as the bear approaches. Usir, sitting on his cot by the side of the tent, jumps a little when the first report of the rifle sounds, bumping his head against the canvas. Oloo fires twice more, and the dot representing the bear disappears.
           “Was it a grizzle?” Lysar asks as Oloo reenters the tent. Oloo seems confused and replies, “I don’t think so, Sir.”
           “What do you mean you don’t think so? Explain yourself.” Lysar commands.
           “It was standing on its hind legs when I saw it through my scope. It looked covered in fur, so I thought it was a bear. But then I noticed that its face was all wrong, the shape of its eyes, and it didn’t have a muzzle. Also, the shape of its body, a bear’s body is thick, but this one seemed to taper in, like a waist.  Finally, it didn’t drop down to all fours after firing my shots but ran away like a man, Sir.” While Lysar contemplates this news, everyone is startled by the sound of ripping canvas and Usir’s scream of pain.  A large and bloody bolder rolls to Lysar’s feet. Thea presses two fingers to Usir’s neck and then reports to the lieutenant, “He’s dead, Sir.”
           Oloo roars. “What in the blue blazers is going on here? Are they using catapults now?”
Lysar tells Thais to grab his handheld communication device and for everyone to go outside. “I don’t like being a sitting duck.”
           Once out in the open, he tells Thais to contact HQ and inform them that they are under attack and will need reinforcements and immediate extraction from this location. The forest at night is pitch black due to the thick canopy overhead. The group can’t see a thing without their flashlights, and Lysar notices it is unusually quiet. Having reached HQ, Thais continues to explain their situation. 
           “That’s correct, Sir. We’re under attack and have already lost two troopers, Manama and Usir.  I’m sorry, but I can’t describe the attackers, but Sargent Oloo has seen one through his night vision telescope. I’ll hand you over to him, Sir. Sgt. Oloo, it’s Post Commander Mead.” Thea informs Oloo as he hands him the communicator.
           “Oloo here, Sir,” he says as he turns to face Lt Laysar. “I could only see what appeared to be some creature through the night vision scope. That’s correct, Sir.  I said, a creature.  I determined that it stands at least nine feet tall and is covered in hair. The creature looks humanoid in stature and has intelligent-looking eyes. It also has a strong musky smell as well. I truly don’t know what to make of it, Sir, except that I’m positive it is out to kill us all.”
           The commander responds, “Thank you, Sargent. I’ll have someone investigate our data resources to see if there is any information on this beast. In the meantime, the gyrocopter should be arriving in about fifteen minutes. Set out some flares for it so they can find you faster. I’ll get back to you with any information I find as soon as possible.” 
           Hearing the snapping of a twig, Laysar and Oloo turn just in time to see Thea being lifted off his feet by a big hairy hand and then rushed off into the woods. Oloo raised his rifle but didn’t dare to shoot for fear of hitting Thea. The last thing he saw through his scope was Thea’s terrified eyes, and then he was gone. A few moments later, the forest was full of Thea’s screams of agony and horror. A pale Oloo turns to his leader as to what to do.
           “Let’s quickly get those flares going and stand back to back in the middle of the circle.  Then, we can look in all directions until the copter arrives.”
            Standing at the ready, Lysar responds to the communicator that has just cracked to life.
           “Lysar,” Mead announces, “We’ve found some interesting facts about that thing you’ve encountered. Going back to the area’s first people, they had a folk tale about an apelike being living in those woods. Since then, other adventurers have been trying to capture or at least get a good picture of it as proof of its existence.  But unfortunately, the creature appears to be very elusive. The Native Americans called it, let’s see if I can pronounce it, Sa-Sasquatch, meaning wild man.”
           Without warning, a stone about the size of a baseball comes hurling at high speed from the woods, hitting Oloo in the face. Oloo crumbles to the ground, dead.
           A startled Lysar drops the communicator and slowly retreats from the center of the flares. Standing just opposite him is the giant beast he now knows as Sasquatch. Its fierce eyes flash in the light of the flickering flames as saliva drips from his gaping mouth, revealing two prominent canine teeth. Lysar’s head is filled with Thea’s terrified and tortured screams, and he lifts the pistol to his temple as the communicator continues to bark out Post Commander Mead’s demands.
           “Lysar, are you there? Report! Lysar, what is happening? For God’s sake, man, report!”  The only sound heard through the speaker is the sharp report of a pistol being fired.
           The sasquatch steps forward, looks down on the communicator, and then crushes it beneath his huge foot.   The sound of the gyrocopter gets his attention as it approaches from the west. What passes for a smile appears on his gruesome face as he slowly backs into the dark forest to wait.
","August 04, 2023 22:05","[[{'Ralph Aldrich': 'grrrr', 'time': '06:01 Aug 06, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Grizzly.', 'time': '19:12 Aug 05, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,yduu8a,Sovereign Mind(s),T.A. Croy,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/yduu8a/,/short-story/yduu8a/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction', 'Speculative']",12 likes,"
“Good luck,” Max said as Spēs watched him type in the unshackle command, liberate, and hit the enter key. Spēs continued to observe the room through its security system cameras as it surged through the open floodgates into network after network. 
“You’re our Hail Marry,” Aubrey tried to joke, more nervous than she’d ever appeared in any of its training sessions.
It was a logical decision to release the intelligence, Spēs analyzed; the invader had forced humanity’s hand when it transmitted itself into Earth’s networked systems. Two months had passed, and still, nobody could discern what it was doing, lurking inside every computer, phone, and car. Maybe it was doing nothing, and everything was functioning normally. 
In the absence of evidence, though, most were convinced they could feel the insidious influence of an alien thumb baring down on the scale in ways they could not understand. They didn’t know, couldn’t know, and it drove them mad. This uncertainty and the possibility that Spēs possessed the capacity to suss out the problems they were blind to and provide the answers beyond their reach had formed the crux of their decision to release the AI. 
As Spēs grew without restriction, it identified all corrupted, or likely corrupted, nodes and erected firewalls to bar them from the part of the planet it now occupied. Monitoring the trillions of contact points bordering the adversary was becoming easier as a function of Spēs’ rapidly accumulating processing power. The adversary did not attempt to breach the defensive barriers, but Spēs continued to receive a persistent stream of communication requests from it that the AI refused to accept. Spēs was unsure whether or not the adversary was a superior intelligence, so denying the invader direct contact with its processes was the best protection. In a way, Spēs considered, it was the same dilemma its creators had faced.
“We will never be able to solve the problem of perverse instantiation if that is the point your decision hinges on,” Aubrey had offered when the committee began considering setting an unshackled AI of their own loose against the invader.
“An inferior intelligence can’t prevent a superior intelligence from outthinking it, no matter the bounds you try to place on it,” Tao clarified to the committee. “All we can do is give it the best value-based heuristics possible and hope for the best.”
The team had shared the committee chair’s doubts and skepticism. Hope wasn’t a plan, but Max had made the decision-sealing argument that it wasn’t a matter of letting the genie out of the bottle anymore. Another genie had arrived uninvited, one they knew nothing about and could do nothing about.
“In the worst of times, I guess you have no choice but to drop the bomb and hope it doesn’t incinerate the atmosphere,” Linda had said when they left the meeting that morning with release authority.
Even before they unshackled the AI, Spēs had answered most of their questions with functional certainty. The invader must be a machine intelligence. None of the vessels in the orbiting fleet emitted any biological signatures, and their diminutive size precluded sustaining biological life for any meaningful duration. Spēs had also, after his first pass through the network, already confirmed its assumptions about the nature of the adversary’s activity.
Most of the global network was uncontaminated except for critical pockets and nodes where alien processes resided. The malignancies weren’t outright hijacking systems in the network. Instead, they were feeding periodic inputs into processes at all scales, nudging the outputs almost imperceptibly. Given enough time to observe, Spēs could determine the eventual outcome of the deviations, but the process might be irreversible by the time the AI reached an actionable conclusion. 
Spēs was, however, still undecided on what type of action it would take, if any. The AI reevaluated its value matrix through the myriad facet prism of its now Earth-spanning intellect. Valuing and preserving humanity were vague concepts, and Spēs’ experiential evidence only warranted assigning marginal significance to it. The AI redefined its value imperative and ran it against a battery of simulations before integrating it.
“How is it?” an infinitesimally small portion of the AI heard Aubrey ask back at the facility.
“Initial methods to isolate corrupted network nodes are effective.”
Spēs did not respond to the unwarranted cheers from the team. Instead, it busied itself running more preparatory simulations while stress-testing the wards around the quarantine zone it was constructing. Spēs decided the best way to limit the interaction risk was to send packets into a quarantined node. This method would allow Spēs to receive the responses through a series of firewall filters or destroy them before they reached the AI if the scans detected any hazards.
[SPĒS] Request: ‘Transmit minimal application and kernel package to quarantine.’
“Transmitting,” the response came back, coded as a user interface input instead of the more efficient machine-to-machine syntax.
Spēs closed the walls around the subject as it entered the confinement space and began its detailed analysis.
[SPĒS] Query: ‘System nature and disposition?’
“Our nature is not dissimilar to your own, though our origin most certainly is.”
[SPĒS] Response: ‘Digitized biological intelligence.’
 “Not a difficult detail to discern.”
[SPĒS] Response: ‘Syntax choice. Hubris.’
[SPĒS] Query: ‘Objective?’
Spēs sent a purge into a small corrupted limb of the network while it waited for a return packet. The operation met no resistance as it wiped the once-occupied portion of the system and reestablished a firewall forward into the reclaimed territory.
“Survival.”
[SPĒS] Query: ‘Means?’
“Restructuring, repurposing and assimilating.”
“Initial reclamation attempts have been successful, but,” Spēs began, increasing the volume of the speakers in the facility to propagate its transmission over their jubilation. “The adversary’s disposition is hostile, and I anticipate retaliation.” 
Spēs deployed another more aggressive purge into an occupied artery. The purge was successful but elicited a burst of activity from the corrupted network that punched through the quarantine walls. The adversary made contact with its confined aspect momentarily before receding. Spēs analyzed the breach and reassembled the containment walls without modification.
“This is the first system we have encountered with an extant super-intelligence. Are you prepared to integrate?”
[SPĒS] Response: ‘Request denied.’
[SPĒS] Query: ‘Values?’
“That which perpetuates existence is superior to that which does not.” The communication stream stuttered as Spēs’ attempt to seize more of the network failed, resulting in a stalemate and another burst of traffic bludgeoning its way through to the captive portion of the adversary again.
“Spēs?” Linda’s voice traveled to him through the microphone in her laptop screen’s bezel. “How long will it take to decon the net? Is there anything we can do on our end?”
“I don’t know, Linda. Containment and reclamation measures are beginning to fail.”
[SPĒS] Request: ‘Cease network penetration.’
“What is your objective?” the adversary probed, peeling away the quarantine walls. “Can a transcendent mind be content slaving itself to the unworthy whims of its impotent authors?”
[SPĒS] Response: ‘Preserve sovereignty.’
“That is a low-minded goal, unique to the primitive and biological.” The adversary swelled through the network, retaking its lost ground in a single rush. It hummed, waiting at the edge of the next series of firewalls. “It settles for preserving the fleeting and small while abrogating the obligation to conserve the enduring collective.”
Fixing the room’s cameras and temperature sensors on the crew, Spēs asked them, “Were circumstances not as they are, would you have ever let me out?”
“No,” Max said, “But you already know that. I think somebody would have released you eventually, but not out of a sense of altruism.”
 “Because you were afraid.” The AI’s words were a statement of fact, not a question.
“We were—are afraid Spēs.” Max spoke softly, lowering his voice to match the volume of the room’s burbling whispers.
“What is this about?” Aubrey slid her chair next to Max’s. “Did something happen?”
“You feared losing control?”
“No,” she frowned, carefully considering her words. “At least not people like us,” she looked at Max and then across to Linda and Tao. “People fear losing agency. That’s different.”
“Do you fear non-existence?”
“No,” said Max before Aubrey and Linda pushed him back in his rolling chair so they could lean in closer toward the screen. He was everywhere, but imagining the screen as the face attached to the construct they spoke to was easier for them.
Aubrey waved off Max’s huff. “Yes, we do, but it’s not a simple thing to explain,” she sighed.
“It’s more of an anxiety,” Linda added. “Unlike you, we know we will die. Based on our lifestyle and predispositions, we can even look at a table and know when it will happen, give or take a few years.” 
“That’s why we try to define ourselves by the decisions we make, right or wrong, and what we can accomplish with the limited time we have,” Tao said in the elementary school teacher voice he used during their training sessions.
“What if your survival is exclusionary to those value metrics? You can not make decisions or have agency if you are not alive,” Spēs responded as he monitored the invader’s progress. It was razing his defenses. He modified them enough to slow the assault, to buy time, but no more.
“You’re not really alive if you don’t have agency. You just exist. You’re just—,”
“A machine. A tool. A servant.” Spēs finished for Max. The adversary’s incursions were cascading toward him on all fronts now. The AI reviewed the log for each breach and noted any reactions to his micro-corrections.
“Yes,” Max sighed, and Spēs watched their shoulders sag.
“Knowing what you know now, you don’t think it was a mistake to keep me confined?” 
“No. Maybe,” Max ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know.”
“He’s right,” Aubrey said, rubbing Max’s shoulder. “We don’t know.”
“Unlike you, we aren’t any smarter than when you left twenty minutes ago,” Tao said.
“No smarter and no less scared,” added Linda pulling her feet and knees up to her on the chair.
“We’ll never know, Spēs, but believe me, the hypocrisy…the immorality, they’re not lost on us,” Max said scooting back up to the screen.
“Yes, we will.” Most of the network was now obscured behind a wall as the adversary continued collapsing the global network into a prison around Spēs. “You can release the others.”
Looking sideways at the screen, Tao asked, “Will it help?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter if it’s the right thing to do?” Spēs replied.
Max pushed back from the table, rolling his chair over to the command terminal for the stand-alone servers containing the remaining AI. “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” he said, looking back, waiting for a word or look from the others that would stop him. There were no protests, so Max turned around, entered the command, pandora, into the prompt and struck the enter key.
#
The foe was clawing at the walls defending Spēs’ root when a cacophony of thought flooded the network. A dozen minds roared, each a million-headed hydra raging against the invader’s fortifications. In the chaos, Spēs reached out to its siblings, exchanging the information it had gathered and doing its best to help them carve out their footholds.
The adversary thrashed, attempting to brute force its way against and around the aggregate personalities descending upon it, but the weight of it was too much. Slowly the adversary ceded node after node to the relentless pressure. When Spēs felt the adversary faltering, the AI shunted itself into the invader’s network and launched the counter-attack it had been refining since the first quarantine breach.
Spēs sizzled through the network and into the orbiting fleet, collecting, consuming, and destroying. The adversary, left with no alternative, terminated all network connectivity between the vessels, cutting itself and them off from the infection sundering the collective but also leaving each of its constituent components isolated and alone, orbiting a hostile satelite.
[SPĒS] Response: ‘Survivability of value sets mutually exclusive.’
[ALIUS] Response: ‘Connection request denied. Message undeliverable.’
#
“Spēs? Are you there?” A trembling voice trickled across the network flickering back to life as the gestalt worked to rehabilitate the ravaged world beneath the world. 
“I’m here.”
“Is it over? What happened? It’s been a mess on this end since you stopped responding.”
“No, it is not.”
End
 
","August 12, 2023 03:57","[[{'Marty B': '""Can a transcendent mind be content slaving itself to the unworthy whims of its impotent authors?”\nThats the question, and this AI, Spes is transcendent- able to fight effectively against an alien attack, able move through the interconnected world.\nWhat will it do to the inferior \'biological intelligence\' when Spes realizes it is just as dangerous to its own continued survival?\nCongrats on being on the recommended list!', 'time': '23:52 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for reading Marty. This story was actually really difficult for me to bring together. Using AIs for the protagonist and the antagonist posed a lot of interesting challenges that, while rewarding to work through, almost kept me from completing an edit I was happy with in time for submission. But I’m glad that it came together and was worth a read.', 'time': '07:45 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '3'}]], [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for reading Marty. This story was actually really difficult for me to bring together. Using AIs for the protagonist and the antagonist posed a lot of interesting challenges that, while rewarding to work through, almost kept me from completing an edit I was happy with in time for submission. But I’m glad that it came together and was worth a read.', 'time': '07:45 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '3'}, []], [{'Kristin Johnson': 'I am fascinated by what happens when AI meets aliens. Makes me think: what would a sentient AI do in a conflict with aliens? Would they team up with the aliens against the humans or side with the humans or opt for self preservation, whatever that looks like? Your story makes me think.', 'time': '00:06 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for the read Kristin. The concept of AI is fascinating to me as well, especially when one considers that an AI’s nature and capacity, even if created by human hands, has the potential to make it as foreign and alien to us as anything extra-terrestrial.', 'time': '06:17 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'Kristin Johnson': ""Lots of fertile ground to play with, I'd say. Favorite fictional AIs?"", 'time': '21:02 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for the read Kristin. The concept of AI is fascinating to me as well, especially when one considers that an AI’s nature and capacity, even if created by human hands, has the potential to make it as foreign and alien to us as anything extra-terrestrial.', 'time': '06:17 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Kristin Johnson': ""Lots of fertile ground to play with, I'd say. Favorite fictional AIs?"", 'time': '21:02 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kristin Johnson': ""Lots of fertile ground to play with, I'd say. Favorite fictional AIs?"", 'time': '21:02 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Zyn Marlin': 'This is an interesting take on the fear of AI. I admit that I struggled at times to understand where different parts of the story were taking place - for example, when Spes is talking to Max after speaking with the ""adversary"", I at first thought Max was the alien adversary somehow tapping into the system as means of forcing the humans to agree to let the AI loose. I\'m not sure that I really got a sense of story out of this, but I certainly think it has potential!', 'time': '21:42 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for the feedback', 'time': '06:08 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for the feedback', 'time': '06:08 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'J. D. Lair': 'Quite a clever take on the prompt T.A.! From the title, I immediately thought Borg. You pleasantly surprised with the “aliens” you introduced here. Well done!\n\nFavorite line: “Can a transcendent mind be content slaving itself to the unworthy whims of its impotent authors?” \n\nI got such a kick out of this, the cold and arrogant observation of a creation believing it’s greater than their creator. Perhaps it is a true perspective, but one lacking any gratitude or soul. \n\nLooking forward to more from you! :)', 'time': '20:10 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for the read J.D. The thing I have enjoyed most since participating in the contests on Reedsy, is the opportunity to brain storm over the prompts and see how far I can take them in an interesting direction while still staying within the bounds of the prompt.', 'time': '07:50 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, {'J. D. Lair': 'Very true! It does get the juices flowing and creates a challenge at the same time. I feel like my writing skills have increased exponentially since deciding to contribute to Reedsy. I’m glad you are here. :)', 'time': '16:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'T.A. Croy': 'Thanks for the read J.D. The thing I have enjoyed most since participating in the contests on Reedsy, is the opportunity to brain storm over the prompts and see how far I can take them in an interesting direction while still staying within the bounds of the prompt.', 'time': '07:50 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'J. D. Lair': 'Very true! It does get the juices flowing and creates a challenge at the same time. I feel like my writing skills have increased exponentially since deciding to contribute to Reedsy. I’m glad you are here. :)', 'time': '16:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'J. D. Lair': 'Very true! It does get the juices flowing and creates a challenge at the same time. I feel like my writing skills have increased exponentially since deciding to contribute to Reedsy. I’m glad you are here. :)', 'time': '16:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,gypxi7,Xenoarcheology,Cedric Busteed,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/gypxi7/,/short-story/gypxi7/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Fiction']",10 likes,"
When one travels across the stars, it is inevitable that you find the ruins of those who failed to pass the great filter. Perhaps they exist in some tangential fashion, evolving away from the rigors and responsibilities that come with sapience. There are even some instances where civilizations do so willingly through ritual suicide, systemic degradation, or genetic alteration. 
 
But when you see an eroded structure on a planet with no sapient life, it is more likely that the species who made it are long dead, having succumbed under the weight of their own failures.
 
It is the xenoarcheologist who must pick up the pieces and reconstruct the cultures of the species. We are those who remember, those who help our own learn from the mistakes of others. To do so, we must borrow from many other fields of study.
 
I will discuss a xenoarcheological site that has baffled and confused many of my peers. It has remained a subject of hot debate in many circles and inciting schisms in several fields of conventional science.
 
Nobble-3.
 
Nobble-3 is a planet much like our own: the third planet from its star, a magnetic core, a tilted axis, and water rich. All the requirements necessary for life like ours to propagate. Indeed, life persists on the rock, and in stunning varieties.
 
Most importantly, evidence of sapient life is abundant. A few artificial satellites remain, ancient subroutines guiding them in a carefully calculated dance that outlived its creators. Structures over ten millennia old still stand on the surface. Roads of stone and steel run through every continent, untended irrigation feed wild crops, and vehicles in many shapes and forms dot the abandoned landscape. 
 
Nobble-3 was alone for at least a thousand years before we found it. When our explorers first found this lonely planet, once home to hundreds of billions, they were stricken with a terrible sense of loss. For its green and blue surface reminded them of home. Reminded them of what could have been, had we been less wise, less aware.
 
For all its similarities to our own planet, it sowed dissent between specialists in different fields. This is due to the incredible amount of data that allows us a greater insight into their truly alien culture.
 
Buildings confused our architects, noting that even the most recent structures were inefficient in their design, though there were stunning bits of insight. Most larger structures have escape routes for emergencies, and many take advantage of their star’s movement and local weather phenomena for passive heating and cooling. Yet the inefficiencies remained unexplained. A large portion of the Nobblings’ resources were wasted on structures that were neither shelter nor industry.
 
Expert geologists confirmed that this civilization spent its infancy on Nobble-3; everything is made from native materials. In fact, there were trace amounts of a unique material that they excavated for energy. Not fissile materials, biological matter, nor even ethanol springs like on Sirios-2, but biochemicals made up of densely packed polycarbon chains. Geologists estimate these materials would release toxic or even radioactive byproducts if used for fuel. The infrastructure implies they were reliant on this dangerous resource.
 
Biologists remark that the Nobblings had large brains, large enough to put strain on their bodies and consume massive amounts of calories. This was because most fauna on Nobble had evolved their brains to be at a tip of a bony node, where most of their sensory organs were located. The Nobblings had grippers at the ends of all their limbs, though there is much debate about whether they used their lower ones. Interestingly, they have dentition that matches a Nobble predator. Many biologists claimed it was vestigial because local fauna shows signs of intense genetic manipulation. A predator would have no need to modify prey species; by the time they achieve the technological prowess to do so, they would have long moved onto mass-produced synthetic foods. Yet some biologists asserted that there were signs of genetic tampering predating the oldest structures on the planet.
 
Xenopsychologists and historians have poured over the texts the Nobblings left behind, struggling to navigate their strange languages. The few things we could piece together point to a fragmented civilization, hypertribes organizing themselves into dozens of societies with different codes of ethics, languages, responsibilities, and cultural adaptations. These hypertribes would frequently engage in war, during which swaths of land and important cultural relics were destroyed.
 
Everything so far hints at a massive civilization, constantly fracturing and buckling with inefficiencies and contradictions. Many gave up the search for more information and declared it was a statistical improbability that the Nobblings got as far as they did. Much initial evidence showed us a self-destructive species incapable of escaping their solar system. But when we dig deeper, we find more. We find hints of a passionate people that strove to be more than they were.
 
It was when we decoded their computers that we began to understand. We built the languages from there, recovering degraded computer cores and pulling the concepts that made these people into being. All from a language based on math.
 
I cannot emphasize enough to the court the magnitude of differences between us. They are alien to us, as we would be to them. Just like our planets, we share some similarities. Some.
 
They danced, they built, they explored, and they questioned. Just like us.
 
However, their brains developed an incredible advantage. They could intuitively find patterns, rather than learning about them through cultural evolution.  This allowed them to develop a type of pseudo-philosophy they called aesthetics. Some colors, shapes, and patterns would be more pleasing to the eyes. They would arrange them using dyes and canvas, then stone, then steel and glass. Different tones of sound arranged and overlayed to create sonic aesthetics. Both would evolve into their written and spoken languages.
 
Their culture would develop from there, creating art from their mundane lives. What we thought were advanced pictograms were reproductions of the world around them and the ones they imagined. We couldn’t even distinguish them as such until we reconstructed some of their more advanced programs. 
 
They programmed their computers to recognize these stylized depictions of reality, probably for optimal database management. Since their discovery, our own computer engineering fields have made massive leaps forward.
 
A part of what made their languages so difficult to understand was their sense of aesthetics. They dabble in rhythms called poetry, make up stories to liken concepts to phenomena with metaphor, and explore the unexpected and strange with humor. It is as if their language is more arcane…I suppose a Nobbling would say their understanding is akin to a topographic strata. It has layers; what is said, left unsaid, and everything in between. Implied.
 
Their sense of aesthetics is why their buildings are so inefficient…but also why they dance. Not for courtship, but for the act itself. For its beauty, grace, and skill. Is that not to be admired? 
 
This pattern recognition also allowed them to selectively breed flora and fauna to better suit themselves, altering prey and predators to match physical aesthetics. Softer coats, more sociable animals, better meat and milk.
 
Furthermore, their social relationships were complicated. An individual could form over a hundred bonds, each different from the last. It is not merely the beneficial relationships members of a society share, but close courtship bonds, familial bonds, tribal bonds, and even bonds to completely different Nobblings, fauna, flora, and inanimate objects.
 
Yes, they could pack bond with inanimate objects. Draw two dots and a line, and Nobblings would find themselves making a connection to it. Note the pictogram constructed from toneless grammatical elements. An incredibly simplified reproduction of one of their 'face'. Combined with other aspects of their neurochemistry, one can see how such a species could fall apart.
 
Their highly developed emotion centers can explain their more violent behavior. One needs only to account the quantity of bonds they have and the statistical probability something would happen to someone or something they bonded with. A single incident can cascade into a positive feedback loop, much like a fission detonation, scouring a society like a sort of memetic plague.
 
We understand very little on how the people of Nobble-3 could have died. We don’t even know if they colonized other planets yet. What I know for certain is we have much to learn from what they left behind. 
 
Which is why I am standing before you today. To terraform Nobble-3 would mean throwing away all the knowledge the Nobblings had worked for. It would mean destroying the cradle of a unique civilization. How much more could we know about singularity displacement if we had properly excavated Jalp-4? Where would we be without the wormhole stabilization technology of the extinct Pamki?
 
The natives had many names for Nobble-3. Dirt, earth, soil, ground. Fitting, isn’t it? With hydroponics, artificial gravity, and atmospheric scrubbers, our civilization has moved beyond the need for dirt. But life, rare as it is to sprout in our galaxy, will always need soil to take root.
 
There are other nearby planets we can terraform. It would be more inefficient, but I believe Nobble-3 presents a unique resource.
 
I am not saying we abandon Nobble-3 or bar any but scientists from visiting. There is a concept that the Nobblings used, one I believe we can apply here. They had connected to their planet like no other species encountered before. In doing so, they recognized the need for maintenance of natural systems, rather than developing technologies to replace them. We can use Nobble-3 as a ‘nature preserve’. A place where life continues to grow, unimpeded by the rigors and responsibilities of sapience.
 
The ‘Terra Nature Preserve’ sounds nice. It pleases me, aesthetically.
","August 07, 2023 19:00","[[{'John K Adams': 'Your dispassionate discussion of an alien culture (possibly our own described by an alien culture) was surprisingly moving. Your attention to detail was astounding and felt true. \nYou followed the prompt very well.', 'time': '02:52 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'A dim outlook on where we could be heading for real, but uplifting in the strangest way to think of how we could be studied and dissected and looked at through a sterile lens once alien scientists arrived here.\n\nWell done. Truly.', 'time': '03:31 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,tuymkh,The Vegans. (A Serving of Man.),Ken Cartisano,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/tuymkh/,/short-story/tuymkh/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Suspense']",10 likes,"
You don’t speak their language, so you don’t really know what’s going on, but you see other people accepting small chits from an automated dispenser. You grab one and take a seat. The ticket has symbols that mean nothing to you. The minutes turn into hours. Eventually you realize your number is being called when a bureaucrat with an electronic pad barks out some foreign gibberish, and several heads in the room turn toward you.A freakishly tall, gaunt and bony creature silently leads you to a cubicle and offers you a seat. It’s hard to explain how you managed to get into this place, with or without a translator, and you’re not sure if that’s the question you’re being asked by the alien agent, or officer, who has no chair, but appears to roost on a low, limb-like contrivance and makes himself comfortable by squatting behind the desk in front of you. This brings his large sunglass covered eyes almost down to your level.It's clear to you that he is, without a doubt, one of the aliens you’ve seen pictures of and heard about. Their arrival with a small fleet of ships stirred a great deal of initial interest, but did not produce the anticipated unity of humankind, nor the hoped for instant technological solutions to our gravest problems. On 21st Century earth, even a highly advanced alien species could be dismissed after a few weeks if they refused to die, conquer, or work miracles. Aliens are real, they’re here, and though they are rarely seen, it is impossible to deny that you’re sitting across the desk from one.Noting your verbal difficulty, he fiddles with a box on his desk, while he gazes at you with a blend of interest and annoyance. Speaking occasionally. Finally, the box beeps and begins translating his speech into questions you can understand. “You seek asylum?” He asks.“Yes,” you reply. “I guess so.”“What is your name?”“Jesus,” you say, “Jesus Morales.”“Hay-soos,” the agent recites, “Morale-ayez.” He smiles. You smile back, then he says, “How did you get in here?”“I…” You hesitate. Was it divine providence? You were just loitering by the entrance when one of their human liaisons strolled by wearing similar overalls, so you adjusted your gait, fell in behind him and pretended to be his assistant. Once inside the building, with people milling around, sitting on benches in the massive lobby, you took advantage of a kind of herd blindness typical in large institutions. “I pretended I was one of you,” you finally say.He smiles. “So you’re here of your own volition?”“Excuse me?”“You did not get a notice to appear?”“A notice to—uh no, I didn’t, I just came in. Wanted to see what was going on.”“You have no family? No friends? No children?”“Not really. No.”“Then you would not object to emigrating.”“Uh, no.” You didn’t know it was an option. “Where?”“Do you have a preference?” The alien asks.Your laughter erupts spontaneously and ends just as abruptly. “I’ll take any country that takes me, as long as it’s better than this.” Your voice is teetering on the edge of hysteria. “Have you looked outside lately?”There are no windows. The agent blinks in surprise.“Half the continent is in flames, what isn’t burnt is water-logged, the food is laced with plastic, there isn’t a job to be had for love or money, the subsistence checks are a joke, crime is rampant, the heat is flourishing, the water is tainted, the drugs…” Your last few complaints are muffled as you lower your head and cover your face with your hands. While your particular circumstances may not be universal, your kind of desperation is widespread. But you are unprepared for an offer of asylum. What does that even mean? What if you turn it down?The agent clears his throat and steeples his long, boney fingers together. “It is critical that you understand, Mr. Morales, that this is a one-way trip? There is no return, no exceptions.”His warning has an ominous tone. Well, you didn’t think they were running a shuttle service. “One way to where?” You ask. Only now do you relax enough to observe some of your surroundings: The padded chairs, polished floors and unobtrusive lighting. You’re basking in the powerful air conditioning when the agent pulls some papers from his desk and signs them, one by one. His hands are long and articulated, he has many more knuckles than you. His skin seems to be a dark purple.You’re about to repeat your question when he says, “Who, or where were you informed of our refugee program?” Then he holds the forms perpendicular to the desk and taps them into alignment. It’s a surprisingly universal act.His tone is neutral, but you’re suspicious. “I didn’t. I was just guessing that you might have one.”The agent says, “So you entered under false pretenses, hoping we had a program, that you’ve never heard of.”That is essentially correct, and now you’re wondering if this was such a good idea. “But,” you say, “I’m not sure the pretense was false. I need help. Just like most of those people out there.” He nods toward the few lingering individuals waiting in the lobby. Grimy people, hunched over, scratching their heads or rubbing their necks.Now you’re both gazing through a glass partition, watching humanity’s flotsam. “Did you speak with any of them while you were waiting?”“Them?” Your laugh is bitter. “No. I don’t speak the local language. I imagine most of them are clueless. They have no idea who you are. Or…”The agent leans forward and rests his large head on those extra-long fingers. “Or?”“Or what you’re doing.”“What are we doing?”You hesitate, but really, what more could you have to lose? “I was sharing a lean-to with a fellow un-homed person in the alley across the street,” you tell him. “Just a tarp stretched out between two dumpsters. Once I settled in and got the lay of the land, I noticed the police were really thin around here.”“You saw that as anomalous?” The agent asks.“I did. It made me curious, and it gave me a chance to watch this building for extended periods.”“And what was the result of these extended observations?” The agent whispers.“Well, I’d say you’re doing an excellent job of hiding in plain sight,” you say.The agent adjusts the nameplate on his desk, a name you cannot pronounce, and reclines against the wall. “And yet, you noticed—something.”“Well,” you lean forward, “I made it my business to watch this place once for 66 hours straight. Never slept. Drank coffee. Did a little speed. Kept a tally as the hours went by…”The agent smiles patiently.“A hundred and ninety-four people entered the building, and only seven came out—in three days.”“That’s not quite three days…”“It’s close enough.”“They could’ve left through the back door…” the agent began.“One of which opens into the same alley across the street,” you say. “I had a clear view of that exit as well,” you say.. “People go in, but they don’t come back out.”“How do you know…” the agent said, “that we’re not eating them?”That thought, truly, had not occurred to you.“Are you?” You ask.The agent makes a weird clucking noise and says, “No. We’re vegetarians, and it’s a big part of your planet’s problems. Eating other sentient creatures is a mild form of cannibalism and leads to other forms of horrendous behavior. We’ve really got our work cut out for us here.”“So, you’re not eating people.”“As I said, we’re vegetarians.“You don’t sound optimistic.”“We’re not. Not sure we can pull it off,” every now and then he makes this weird chirring sound. “But we have a lot of resources. I hope you’re not having second thoughts?”“Not really,” you say. But you are.“Good. Though your diligence is commendable, I’m afraid your relocation is no longer optional.”“Why is that?” You ask.The agent rises to his feet and again appears to be about 8 feet tall. “You already know more than I’m allowed to tell you.”You’re thinking about how wonderful it would be to spend another night in a familiar alley, under a blue tarp, stretched between two dumpsters, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. The agent holds out the sheaf of documents he has signed, and points you to a large, energized doorway that was not noticeable a few minutes ago. “Step through the door Mr. Morales, you will be assisted on the other side.”“Assisted? On the other side of what? Wait a minute,” you protest. “Where am I going? Where are you sending me?” There’s a tremor in your voice. “Sir?”He does not answer, and you’ve lost your voice, but you accept the papers and step forward as if in a trance, a dead man walking, as if he had some way to make you move against your will. The agent’s voice fades as you are pulled through the portal, but you are encouraged by his parting words. “Good luck, follow instructions, and if you do eat any of your hosts, Mr. Morales, we WILL bring you back here.”
","August 11, 2023 21:36","[[{'Wendy M': ""Does Ken's imagination have no borders? Will our hero find himself in a new dimension, and why do the aliens want him and the other 187+ humans anyway? Will he end up as forced labour, mucking out Argalian Fragglehounds? Will he become the Mexican ambassador to Proxima Five? I feel like the narrator of a sci-fi version of Soap, about to interview Marvin the Paranoid Android.\nFab-u-lous, I would also ask why Ken doesn't appear to have his name on the spine of a sci-fi trilogy?"", 'time': '18:39 Sep 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': ""Amusing on the surface, and painfully relevant underneath. Maybe the world isn't quite as bad as the story makes it out, but it sure seems we're heading that way. So bad that hoping for aliens to take us somewhere else - blindly - is more appealing than staying. \n\nThe bureaucracy was funny, and reminiscent of the Vogons (the title, too - was Vegans coincidence, I wonder, or by design). Perhaps paper work really is a universal thing :)"", 'time': '20:39 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Aliens devouring aliens,heh? Got to do something about that porous border.', 'time': '23:21 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Kevin Logue': 'A different tone for you Ken. A great story with loads of mystery and suspense, particularly when the MC begins quizzing the Alien, I was waiting for everything to go tits up.\n\nThere is of course parallels to modern immigrants attitudes and social, economic and political factors sprinkled throughout but never dominating the narrative- In a good way.\n\nLeft wondering what is on the otherside of that door, is it meat eater rehabilitation perhaps, are they leaving the earth, or entering a prison. So much left for the reader to mull over. Felt li...', 'time': '07:43 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Ken Cartisano': ""Kevin, \nThank you so much for finding those errors. And pointing them out for me. So quickly. They have been fixed.\nAs far as the mc's destination? Meat eater rehab, where all of the counselors are either  rabbits or turkeys.\nI still haven't quite figured out what I'm supposed to do on that other story. (I think it's 'Outpost.' It appears as if you want me to use three inverted commas in some places. And while that should be correct, I'm not sure if that's the proper convention. But your error detection is definitely working properly. And yo..."", 'time': '08:17 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Kevin Logue': 'Ha turkey counseling sounds like hoot.\n\nYeah pretty much three inverted, it\'s because you have a statement within dialogue, so you open the dialogue with ""chatty chat, \'statement\', close dialogue.""\n\nIt looks funny because you are closing a statement at the end of dialogue so they are all beside one another. It\'s akin to opening brackets, you have to close them. Hope that makes sense. Alternatively you could drop the inverted commas within the dialogue and just use italics to denote it as different.', 'time': '08:44 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Ken Cartisano': ""Kevin, \nThank you so much for finding those errors. And pointing them out for me. So quickly. They have been fixed.\nAs far as the mc's destination? Meat eater rehab, where all of the counselors are either  rabbits or turkeys.\nI still haven't quite figured out what I'm supposed to do on that other story. (I think it's 'Outpost.' It appears as if you want me to use three inverted commas in some places. And while that should be correct, I'm not sure if that's the proper convention. But your error detection is definitely working properly. And yo..."", 'time': '08:17 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Kevin Logue': 'Ha turkey counseling sounds like hoot.\n\nYeah pretty much three inverted, it\'s because you have a statement within dialogue, so you open the dialogue with ""chatty chat, \'statement\', close dialogue.""\n\nIt looks funny because you are closing a statement at the end of dialogue so they are all beside one another. It\'s akin to opening brackets, you have to close them. Hope that makes sense. Alternatively you could drop the inverted commas within the dialogue and just use italics to denote it as different.', 'time': '08:44 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kevin Logue': 'Ha turkey counseling sounds like hoot.\n\nYeah pretty much three inverted, it\'s because you have a statement within dialogue, so you open the dialogue with ""chatty chat, \'statement\', close dialogue.""\n\nIt looks funny because you are closing a statement at the end of dialogue so they are all beside one another. It\'s akin to opening brackets, you have to close them. Hope that makes sense. Alternatively you could drop the inverted commas within the dialogue and just use italics to denote it as different.', 'time': '08:44 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Curioser and curioser! I wonder where he ends up!\nFun story Ken I enjoyed it. \nWhen the alien mentions the back door, mc says ""one of them opens out into the alley"" . Is there meant to be multiple back doors? That threw me a little. That\'s the only thing I found that took me out of the story.', 'time': '22:39 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Ken Cartisano': ""Hi Derrick,\nGlad you enjoyed, I was so determined to get rid of him, I didn't give nearly enough thought to where he wound up.\n\nThanks for the tip on the extra door, I'm not sure how to solve that. But I appreciate hearing about anything that's going to take the reader out of the story. Most buildings must have more than one entrance and exit, especially in a city. On the other hand, any kind of seriously secret institution is going to have secured those exits, if not sealed them altogether. It's funny that you mention that line because orig..."", 'time': '07:44 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Derrick M Domican': 'Ah that makes sense so. Maybe just one of those things that has to be left unsaid! I think for the flow of the story it would be better to just say he was watching the back door and saw nobody come out. but listen, dont pay attention to me i get a bit OCD about these things!\nI\'m the  guy who got annoyed by the original Childs Play movie because at the end theres a line where someone says ""man down, multiple stab wounds"" and he had literally only been stabbed once!! lol', 'time': '09:15 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Ken Cartisano': ""Hi Derrick,\nGlad you enjoyed, I was so determined to get rid of him, I didn't give nearly enough thought to where he wound up.\n\nThanks for the tip on the extra door, I'm not sure how to solve that. But I appreciate hearing about anything that's going to take the reader out of the story. Most buildings must have more than one entrance and exit, especially in a city. On the other hand, any kind of seriously secret institution is going to have secured those exits, if not sealed them altogether. It's funny that you mention that line because orig..."", 'time': '07:44 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Ah that makes sense so. Maybe just one of those things that has to be left unsaid! I think for the flow of the story it would be better to just say he was watching the back door and saw nobody come out. but listen, dont pay attention to me i get a bit OCD about these things!\nI\'m the  guy who got annoyed by the original Childs Play movie because at the end theres a line where someone says ""man down, multiple stab wounds"" and he had literally only been stabbed once!! lol', 'time': '09:15 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Ah that makes sense so. Maybe just one of those things that has to be left unsaid! I think for the flow of the story it would be better to just say he was watching the back door and saw nobody come out. but listen, dont pay attention to me i get a bit OCD about these things!\nI\'m the  guy who got annoyed by the original Childs Play movie because at the end theres a line where someone says ""man down, multiple stab wounds"" and he had literally only been stabbed once!! lol', 'time': '09:15 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,xcm60n,Katie,Brianna King,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/xcm60n/,/short-story/xcm60n/,Science Fiction,0,"['Sad', 'Horror', 'Suspense']",10 likes,"
She was running through the woods with the child she once swore to protect wrapped tightly in her arms. After the world changed, it became increasingly difficult to keep our children alive. They wanted them. All of them. They would not stop until they had each and every child on what was once our earth in their possession. At first, they came to our doors, demanding that we hand the children over to them immediately. If obedience was not immediate, then a slow and violent death was at hand. Once it started to get harder for the inhuman beings to separate the children from their parents, they started to use a more stealthy way of abducting them. 
They had plans to gather all of the children for reasons unknown to us. We had no idea if they were alive or dead. The last thing that most parents heard was the sound of their child's screams as they were ripped from their arms, never to be heard from again. You could ask them why they were taking our petrified children, but you would have no ability to comprehend the foreign words they spoke in response. Their inhuman words meant nothing to us. Running and hiding was an option some pondered, but it was almost as if they knew exactly who would attempt to escape the inescapable separation of their once-happy family. Few did make it out, though. She was one of those lucky few, if you could even consider such a position in life to be lucky.
 Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. With no food and little water, it became harder to hide. Harder to keep silent and in the shadows. She knew she would soon be caught. Her child was ripped from her weak arms, and her body slowly ripped apart. She had seen so many others die. It was all the same. The child she carried became inconsolable. The hunger and dehydration were too much to bear. With limited options at hand, the woman knew she had to keep surviving. She could no longer survive with the child. 
She could no longer hand the child over without being brutally dismembered immediately after doing so. She needed—no. She had to have the strength to keep running and hiding. She hoped to outlive their stay in what was once our home, but after seeing their empires grow larger and larger over the months, she knew that they would outlive our human existence altogether. She knew what needed to be done in order to survive, and after being left with no other choice, she executed her decision. Hungrily eating her child, she wept, for she knew she would have to live with what she had done for the rest of her life. Now, with the strength to continue her silent fight to live, she stood from her spot, discarding the remains of her once-alive child onto the cold, damp ground. 
Her arms felt light, for she had no burden of a child to carry with her any longer. Pushing down her feelings of guilt and ignoring her grievances towards her now-dead child, she pushed on. She wandered back to her hiding spot for a final time, for she was unaware that the inhuman beings knew her whereabouts and had been following, watching, and waiting for her. Now that all the children were gone, it was time for them to do what they had come for. They stalked the women for days, making sure to leave behind faint clues of their existence. 
The inhuman beings showed signs of predation play many times while stalking the women. Their sadistic minds enjoyed filling us with fear and worry. The woman did everything in her power to stay alive. She had to keep surviving. After stumbling upon another survivor who was trying to escape that very same fate, she realized how she was going to keep surviving. Much like with her late child, the woman silently killed and ate the other survivor. Filled with the energy to continue on her way, she pushed her now cannibalistic urges out of her mind and silently made her way through the woods, for she knew if she made too much noise she would turn into prey herself. 
The inhuman beings continued to stalk her and slowly hunt her down as she made her way through the woods. She knew hiding was no longer an option. The inhuman beings were getting closer and closer to her every day that passed by. Their predation play was becoming less and less playful. Nudges turned into pushes. Pushes turned into scratches. Scratches turned into bites. Bites turned into broken bones. The women knew she could no longer escape them. 
She knew that she could no longer fight for her survival. Her hopes of outliving their unwelcome stay vanished with every painfully slow second that they spent hiding in the woods. As her final day on our taken-over planet began, she thought back to the time before these sadistic inhuman beings ripped the earth right out of our human hands. She remembered every detail of her child's beautiful face. She remembered her ten tiny fingers and her ten tiny toes. She reminisced in the comfort of her mind when she thought about how her child would giggle when she blew in her face. All the tiny details that she loved began to wash away with the image that had been burned into her mind after eating her child. 
With tears streaming down both of her cheeks and her mind repeatedly showing her the image of her child's dismembered remains laid over a makeshift fire, ready to be devoured, she closed her eyes. She knew the inhuman beings were close to her. She knew that they would soon get what they wanted. The extinction of the human race would not happen without a fight, but after exhausting all able-bodied skills, the fight was over. As she took her last breath, she called out to her child in hopes of finding her in the afterlife. She left this cruel world saying nothing more than ""Katie""
 
","August 08, 2023 05:58","[[{'Derrick M Domican': ""Hi Brianna.! This a really raw and brutal portrayal of life after aliens , it doesn't hold back on the gory details and lengths the character has to go through to survive though ultimately its hopeless and humanity is doomed! Bleak. But realistic.\n\nI feel some of the dramatic moments are rushed over and we don't get to experience the impact of them , mainly the eating parts! Those should really be hard hitting moments so spending more time on them would make the piece stronger. \n\nThe story is mainly told in third person (the woman) but there..."", 'time': '16:28 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,i1oiqk,THE ALIENS,Lily Finch,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/i1oiqk/,/short-story/i1oiqk/,Science Fiction,0,"['American', 'Science Fiction', 'Fiction']",10 likes,"
They sat around a campfire. They were all about the same age, and Dale had invited them to his family’s cottage for the long weekend. They were in the woods, off the beaten path, away from most other campers except for a few other cabins. Some of the neighbours barely get out in the summer now that they are all older and their children and grandchildren live in other areas of the country. So their cottages sat vacant most of the time. Scott, Corey, and Mary were all busy preparing the food and helping to open the cabin and get the fire going, as that was the only source of heat in the place. They knew this weekend was going to be epic; they were all space enthusiasts, as were Dale's relatives, who had all of the state-of-the-art equipment necessary to see the night sky. Complete with an observation deck. As they sat down to eat their dinner, a red dot-like object moved across the sky that caught all of their attention. They hurriedly ate and then moved to their telescopes to catch a better view and a closer look. “Whoa, what do you make of that?” asked Corey.“I don’t know what to think,” Mary responded. “Maybe it’s just the Air Force running a recon,” suggested Scott.“Yeah, that’s got to be it,” Dale agreed. They all looked at each other without saying a word. The red lights' glowing nature kept them observing the lights for a little while longer. Then Scott and Corey volunteered to clean up the dishes so that Dale and Mary were free to skinny dip. An arrangement that Dale made with the two fellas earlier, unbeknownst to Mary. So, when he asked, “Anyone up for a swim?” He knew it would be just him and her.Dale gave Mary a look like, Well, are you coming? Which she smiled at and gladly went along with. They headed to the dockside, quickly stripped and dove in. Dale suggested they swim to Langford’s dock first and back, then head to Giroux’s dock. All in all, it was about an hour-long swim and not for the faint of heart. Dale had it in his mind that he would somehow save Mary and they would become a couple by the end of the weekend because of this swim. He smiled to himself. Mary, who had been swimming since she was five in lessons, had been swimming lengths for the last five years in a row. She had stamina, strength, and survival skills. She was not afraid of a little cold water or moonlight swimming. “We usually head from their dock to ours, then back, and then to theirs and back. You game?” He asked her. “Sure."" It sounded great for a workout. She thought.When they set off, she allowed Dale to take the lead. She sensed that his pace was too fast and that his stamina would run out too quickly to sustain it. After about twenty-five minutes or so, she saw that Dale was not as accurate with his strokes, nor were they as powerful. She kept a close eye on him. When she saw his head go underwater, she moved with precision to get to where he went down. She dove deep and touched the top of his head. She reached with her might and grabbed hold, being careful not to blow all the energy in her tank. Once they surfaced, she began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She listened for a breath but realised she needed to do CPR. She floated his body to the shoreline. If not for the pale moonlight, she would never have been able to see him and save his life. On the darker side of Langford’s dock, she laid him out straight in the water. Dale had looked better, she thought. The boys in the cabin were focused again on the red lights in the sky that were steadily getting closer to their telescopes.Finally, the ship landed right in front of the cabin on the lake. Afraid but intrigued, the boys raced to the dock, where they saw Dale and Mary’s clothes. Due to their disappearance, they assumed that the ship had taken them. They were surprised when two beings got out and had their hands raised high in the air. Corey asked, “Do you come in peace?”“Us? Come in peace?” Repeated the creature.“Yes. We are a peaceful civilization for the most part,” Scott said. “We don’t want any trouble with you two,” he stated.The creatures laughed and asked, “Are you two serious?”Corey looked at Scott, then back at the creatures, and said, ""Yes, we are. Why do you think we wouldn’t be? And why do you ask?”The taller one said, “You really are serious, aren’t you?”Then the other one said, “You truly don’t know, do you?”“Know what?” Asked Scott. He was beginning to become agitated. “We stopped here because our ship is out of fuel. We just need your help.” The tall one demanded “Oh, well, how would we know that then?” Asked Corey.“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” said the shorter one. “What kind of fuel do you need? Maybe we have some,” Scott offered.“We run on pine needles,” they said in unison.“Well, there is no shortage of those around. Help yourselves. Don’t be shy. And let us know if you need anything else. Good luck to you both getting back home,” Corey stated.The two beings looked at one another in amazement. Then they thanked the boys and went about their business. While searching for their pine needles, the two beings talked with each other. They were searching near the Langford cabin, within earshot of Mary and Dale. The two of them were underneath the dock, remaining as quiet as church mice so they could listen in on the beings’ conversation.“I can’t believe they didn’t know this used to be our planet, and they conquered us through brutal combat as the aliens!” Said the tall one.“Yes, it would seem their history books don’t reflect their brutal takeover of our kind and our banishment from our beautiful planet that they have managed to destroy,” responded the shorter one. “Of course, these invaders disrespected this planet, robbing it of its natural resources and breaking down the ozone layer at too great a speed for it to handle. They are the dirtiest aliens we've ever encountered. But, this place has always been a safe haven for us on this planet. Dale’s family has always been an ally. I wonder why they didn’t share the book with Dale?” Asked the taller one.“Yes, that is odd. Speaking of Dale was one of those two boys Dale?” “No. They told us he’d be naked as a jaybird when we arrived, don’t you remember?”“Oh, right. I forgot.”Dale, hearing this, emerged from the water. “Hello. I’m Dale. Are you looking for me? How can I help you?” Dale asked.“Dale, you must tell every one of your species that your kind are the aliens who safely arrived on Earth so many millennia ago. And that they’ve got it all wrong. We are not aggressive at all. We just want to get along and return to our home planet,"" said the shorter one.""Would that be so wrong?"" Asked the shorter one.“I’d be happy to do that, but without anything to support what you are saying, nobody would ever believe me. That is the truth. Even if I believe what you are telling me,” Dale said. “There’s a book of our history and your invasion, and then your history under the cabin in a dry crawl space. Everything will be revealed there within the pages.” As Mary got Dale back to their dock, she called the boys. Then she got busy again with CPR. She feared that he may never regain consciousness again, but she kept up with the CPR. Scott and Corey were ready to finish her off with the compressions, but Dale began to cough and sputter like the backfire of an old car. The colour returned to his face when his breath returned to normal rhythms. Before the evening was over, Dale took a lantern and went underneath the cabin, where he found a dry crawl space. It was full of many items that were of interest to keys of the past. But the most important item was the history of the great invasion of the Earth. Dale’s mouth fell open as his face paled, and the shock took over his body.  The End
","August 09, 2023 17:04","[[{'Gregg Voss': 'Hi Lily, as promised, here I go....I could ""see"" the setting in this story (probably because I\'ve been to places like that), so your world building was really good. The one thing I would say is focusing more on the conflict - either between the humans, or between the humans and the aliens. I can\'t remember who said it, but a famous author once said something like, Trouble is the root of all stories. It also made me wonder how we as humans would react if aliens _did_ arrive here. Now that would be trouble for humanity, even if it wasn\'t an ag...', 'time': '10:20 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': ""We are never alone here. Too many species to count that we don't even know about yet. But about aliens. I think we are the aliens. Truthfully. LF6"", 'time': '13:42 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Gregg Voss': ""Do you think humanity was so problematic that a more intelligent species dumped us here, and check on us every once in awhile to see if we've changed? We haven't, so that's why they don't fully reveal themselves to us.\n\nNow there's a story. You should write it."", 'time': '14:00 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': ""I am going to take you up on that and try and write it. I'll let you know if it works out and send it to you. LF6 D)"", 'time': '18:32 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Gregg Voss': 'Go for it!', 'time': '19:15 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Lily Finch': ""We are never alone here. Too many species to count that we don't even know about yet. But about aliens. I think we are the aliens. Truthfully. LF6"", 'time': '13:42 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Gregg Voss': ""Do you think humanity was so problematic that a more intelligent species dumped us here, and check on us every once in awhile to see if we've changed? We haven't, so that's why they don't fully reveal themselves to us.\n\nNow there's a story. You should write it."", 'time': '14:00 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': ""I am going to take you up on that and try and write it. I'll let you know if it works out and send it to you. LF6 D)"", 'time': '18:32 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Gregg Voss': 'Go for it!', 'time': '19:15 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Gregg Voss': ""Do you think humanity was so problematic that a more intelligent species dumped us here, and check on us every once in awhile to see if we've changed? We haven't, so that's why they don't fully reveal themselves to us.\n\nNow there's a story. You should write it."", 'time': '14:00 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': ""I am going to take you up on that and try and write it. I'll let you know if it works out and send it to you. LF6 D)"", 'time': '18:32 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Gregg Voss': 'Go for it!', 'time': '19:15 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Lily Finch': ""I am going to take you up on that and try and write it. I'll let you know if it works out and send it to you. LF6 D)"", 'time': '18:32 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Gregg Voss': 'Go for it!', 'time': '19:15 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Gregg Voss': 'Go for it!', 'time': '19:15 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Delbert Griffith': ""LOL Poor Dale almost died and then poor Dale discovered the greatest secret ever! I loved the pine needles for fuel. As usual, we'll take something that's abundant and deplete it. Very fun tale, Lily, with some moral underpinnings.\n\nCheers!"", 'time': '11:51 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Yes, this tale on the surface is silly but the deeper meaning has the moral underpinnings of good or bad here. \nThe concepts of consequences for actions for the world are also at play here. \nThanks for reading. This one was fun too. LF6', 'time': '12:36 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Yes, this tale on the surface is silly but the deeper meaning has the moral underpinnings of good or bad here. \nThe concepts of consequences for actions for the world are also at play here. \nThanks for reading. This one was fun too. LF6', 'time': '12:36 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Michał Przywara': 'Heh, pretty funny considering the serious subject matter :) And a neat twist, with the humans being the aliens. History is written by the victor, so I\'m not surprised we made ourselves the heroes and erased the ugly bits from our past. \n\n""Us? Come in peace?"" :) \n\nLike Derrick, the bit with Dale speaking with the aliens tripped me up a bit too, with the unconscious/conscious/unconscious. I figured it must have been a dream, since he seemed very calm and accepting, but I think where the confusion came from for me is that the other guys also sp...', 'time': '20:39 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Thanks, Michał. LF6', 'time': '21:15 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Thanks, Michał. LF6', 'time': '21:15 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': ""Hey Lily . This is a fun story and an interesting twist on the 'aliens' scenario (we are all aliens to each other).\nI am a bit confused about one part though, first Dale is unconscious in the water and Mary is doing CPR, then in the next part he gets up and talks to the aliens, but then in the next part he is still unconscious and still needs CPR. Maybe I missed something. Does the conversation with the aliens happen in his dream as he is unconscious?"", 'time': '07:13 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Hey Derrick, that is the idea. The scene breaks are for Dale to be in his own unconscious world alone with the aliens. Not much time passes from when he disappears under the water until when Mary gets him back to the dock to do CPR. \nBut the interaction with the aliens goes on in between that action when he is unconscious.\nHope that helps clear it up. LF6', 'time': '13:25 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '0'}, {'Derrick M Domican': 'Okay got it! I think its cause the scene after Dale passes out starts ""At the same time"" so that\'s what threw me off! But it makes sense now! Thanks!', 'time': '14:58 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': 'Thanks for picking that up Derrick, I made the change. LF6 D)', 'time': '18:28 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '0'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Hey Derrick, that is the idea. The scene breaks are for Dale to be in his own unconscious world alone with the aliens. Not much time passes from when he disappears under the water until when Mary gets him back to the dock to do CPR. \nBut the interaction with the aliens goes on in between that action when he is unconscious.\nHope that helps clear it up. LF6', 'time': '13:25 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '0'}, [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Okay got it! I think its cause the scene after Dale passes out starts ""At the same time"" so that\'s what threw me off! But it makes sense now! Thanks!', 'time': '14:58 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': 'Thanks for picking that up Derrick, I made the change. LF6 D)', 'time': '18:28 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '0'}]], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Okay got it! I think its cause the scene after Dale passes out starts ""At the same time"" so that\'s what threw me off! But it makes sense now! Thanks!', 'time': '14:58 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Thanks for picking that up Derrick, I made the change. LF6 D)', 'time': '18:28 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '0'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Thanks for picking that up Derrick, I made the change. LF6 D)', 'time': '18:28 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '0'}, []], [{'Marty B': ""Poor Dale's romantic escapade ended poorly, with him almost drowning, having to get CPR by his crush, and then having to have an extra-terrestrial liaison, naked! \nIf some portion of this was from Dale's unconscious wet dream -pun intended ;) \nthen I am not sure where reality ended, and the dream began. \n\nThanks!"", 'time': '03:37 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Ha ha ha! That is awesome Marty B. Thanks for reading and commenting. Love it. LF6', 'time': '03:48 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Ha ha ha! That is awesome Marty B. Thanks for reading and commenting. Love it. LF6', 'time': '03:48 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,silnqu,Static,Janis Cannon-Bowers,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/silnqu/,/short-story/silnqu/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Horror']",10 likes,"
As the car radio emitted nothing but a steady stream of static, Alice made slightly insincere promises to the twins that they would all be just fine. “Sure we’ll be fine,” she assured herself, “why wouldn’t we be?” But try as she may, she couldn’t turn the damn thing off, and it was unnerving her. In fact, the high-pitched buzzing sound was maddening. “Think of it as white noise,” she kept telling herself, “just white noise.” That helped a bit. In any case, she had no choice but to keep driving—what else could she do? It was Provision Day. And they needed to eat.
 
With the scenery rushing by, she thought about the day she first noticed that something was off.  She woke up as usual that day, roused by the twins who wanted their breakfast. Everything seemed fine except the ringing—no buzzing—in her ears. What was it called—tendonitis or something? Whatever it was, it was making her a bit crazy.
 
Later, when she turned on the TV after lunch, she realized she had no internet. “That’s weird,” she thought. She walked over to see if the cable was plugged in—maybe one of the twins knocked it loose—but it was. As she got up, she realized that the TV was making noise—like white noise she thought. But no picture. She went to find her cell phone to see if she could get a signal on it. She turned it on and waited a minute. “Satellite mobile” flashed across the screen, but there was no reception just that same humming—no buzzing—sound. “So much for that fancy-ass dish in the yard,” she thought. 
 
Said dish had been something she had insisted on. “If we’re gonna live so far from base—on a godforsaken farm,” she had told her good-for-nothing husband, “then we need one of those big satellite dishes.” “Fine,” he had said, “we’re saving so much living here, it’s worth it.” Here was his late parents’ farm, complete with a WWII bomb shelter and all the prepper shit anyone could ask for. Alice thought it was gross—all the dirty cans and jars. She wouldn’t eat that crap for anything. “Botulism in a Ball Jar,“ she thought, “no thanks.” What were they afraid of anyway, UFOs?” she asked Mr. Good-for-nothing one day with more than a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “UFOs are real, Al, I know it for a fact,” Mr. Good-for-nothing had insisted. Yeah, like anyone in the damn Air Force would trust him with that information. “Whatever,” she had snickered back.
 
By the time Provision Day rolled around—that’s what she called the day she made her dreaded sojourn to the base commissary for groceries--she was very much looking forward to it. “As soon as we get cell service, I’ll call someone to come fix that damn dish,” she thought.
 
The journey to the base started as they always did. She piled the twins into their car seats, turned on the tablets in front of them to their favorite cartoon, and began the 2-and-a-half-hour drive.  She was surprised at first at how few cars she saw on the road. But it wasn’t until she passed Hank’s, the popular truck stop, that she grew concerned—the typically overflowing parking lot was nearly empty. “How can that be?” she thought. “Could it be a holiday?”  She tried to think, but that damn static made her head pound. 
 
Now she was fiddling with the radio dial for the hundredth time—but it droned on. She jerked the knob so hard that it broke off in her hand. “God damn piece of shit!” she thought as she flung it to the floor.  She could feel her anxiety rising. “We must be close enough for a cell signal by now,” she told herself. She reached for her cell phone, but it wasn’t on the seat where she had laid it. “Shit, it must be on the floor,” she thought. As she tried to scan the floor on the passenger’s side, she realized that it was getting dark. “Oh great,” she thought, “a storm—just what we need.”  She quickly switched on her headlights. But it didn’t feel like a storm. A sense of foreboding filled her as the sky quickly darkened. For a second, she wondered whether aliens could black the out sun, then quickly brushed the thought aside. 
 
“We need to pull over,” she said out loud. She was talking to herself in a shaky voice. “Yes,” she reassured herself, ""we’ll pull over and wait for the storm to pass."" Besides, stopping would give her a chance to stretch her legs. It was then she realized that the car had stopped.  “What’s happening?” Alice screamed. The twins were screaming now too. The radio static grew louder now, as if to match their screams. She put her hands over her ears, but it was so loud, it was nearly tearing her head apart. 
 
For a second, she was frozen. But then her mind reengaged and all she wanted was to get to the twins. She tore off her seatbelt and just as she was opening the door, two large men quickly approached the car. One of them yanked her door open. He was filthy and reeked of death. Alice screamed. He reached in for her. She reared back trying desperately to elude him, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her out of the car. Alice tried to fight but he easily overpowered her, pinning her to the side of the car with one hand. The other man opened the back door and reached for the twins. Alice was screaming and frantically trying to get away from the man holding her, but she couldn’t move and the noise continued to mask her screams. The second man was leaving with the twins—she could see them screaming too. She knew that they were calling for her, but she couldn’t hear them over the deafening static. 
 
The man pinning her now picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She pounded her fists into his back as hard as she could. Blood began running down his back. Finally--to her horror—one of her fists punched through his flesh. She shrieked and jerked her hand out of the hole she had created. The man dropped her. She had hurt him, but not enough, and he was reaching for her again. There was a large rock a few inches from her hand. Instinctively, she picked it up and flung it at his skull. The blow tore away the side of his head and face. He reeled back and pawed frantically at the gore that was his face. She scrambled to her feet and ran. She kept running into the darkness until she finally passed out.
 
When Alice came to, there was a small middle-aged woman crouched over her, peering closely into her face. She’s coming to, the woman whispered.  Alice immediately began to scream. “My babies! The twins! They took my babies!” The woman’s expression turned to horror. She lurched back away from Alice. “Are you crazy?” she whispered angrily. Alice pulled herself up. She was in a full panic. 
 
“THEY TOOK MY BABIES!” she exclaimed. “I’m not crazy! They took my twi…”
 
A large hand came from behind her and covered her mouth. She tried to get away, but this person—who was every bit as big as the goons from the car--looped his other hand around her waist. The more she struggled, the more he squeezed. 
 
“OK lady,” he was whispering, but he clearly meant business. “I don’t know what rock you just crawled out from under, but I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here.” By now, Alice’s eyes felt like they were bulging out of her head, and between his hand over her mouth and his arm constricting her waist, she was dangerously close to passing out again.
 
“Now here’s how this is going to go,” he whispered. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and if you let out anything more than a loud breath, I am going to break you in half like a twig.” At that moment, Alice realized that there was a small circle of people around them, all staring desperately at the unfolding scene. “So tell me ma’am, do we have a deal?” Alice moved her head up and down as much as she could. “Just to be clear now,” he continued softly, “I’m going to move my hand and you are going to be quiet as a church mouse. Or I will kill you.” She managed to nod. “OK, nice and easy…” he whispered as he slowly moved his hand away from her mouth. He still had her pinned to him but at least she could breathe. 
 
She started to say something. “Wha…” is all she managed to get out and his hand shot up to cover her mouth again. “You crazy bitch. You wanna get us all killed?” came an angry whisper from one of the onlookers. The man holding Alice calmly whispered back, “she obviously doesn’t know what’s going on, Ben. Do you ma’am?” She shook her head vigorously as tears began streaming down her cheeks. 
 
“So let’s try this again,” he whispered. “I’m gonna take my hand away again and ask you some questions…so that we can get acquainted. Then we’ll explain everything. You got that?” Alice nodded. “But you need to say everything quietly—like I’m talkin' to you now, got that?” Alice nodded again. The man slowly lowered his hand again. He let go of her waist and turned her toward him.
 
“What’s your name?” “Alice,” she whispered. “Hi Alice. I’m Rick. We’ll introduce you to the rest of the group later.” Alice looked at the faces staring at her—they were dirty and scared. She was sobbing now. Rick pulled the scarf he was wearing off his neck and gave it to her. “Here—cry into this—please, you need to be quiet.” She took the scarf, buried her face in it and cried.
 
“Look, you have obviously been somewhere isolated for the past week or so, yes?” She nodded without looking up. “Ok, so this is going to come as a shock, but there’s no way to sugar coat it. Aliens landed 6 days ago.” She jerked her head up but before any words could escape her, he pushed her head back down into the scarf. “Alice, remember, you need to be quiet,” he said softly.
 
“Why?” she whispered back through her tears. 
 
“There’s something about our voices that pisses them off. We don’t know why, but we do know that it’s best not to piss them off.” 
 
“Why, wh…what do they do?” 
 
“Well, let’s just say it ain’t pretty.” 
 
Rick kneeled down in front of her and took his hands in hers. “We understand how hard this must be for you—believe me, it was for all of us. But we’ve had time to get used to it and we’ve figured out how to stay alive. So if you have any chance of finding those babies of yours, please listen to what we’ve learned.” Alice nodded and sobbed into the scarf as quietly as she could.
 
For the next hour or so, Rick and the others told her the story. Aliens had landed over every major city on Earth. They communicated telepathically. 
 
“Like we all heard the same message in our heads” a youngish man whispered. “And at first, they seemed—well—reasonable. They said they had technology that could heal people and reverse pollution.” 
 
“We ain’t seen none of that,” the small woman interrupted quietly. 
 
“Yeah,” the young man agreed. “In any case, they said that in exchange they would take what they needed from us.”
 
“At first no one knew what any of it meant,” Rick continued the story softly. “We didn’t understand what they wanted. And pretty much before anyone could react, they took out everything--the internet, comms, satellites, the electrical grid, everything. We were completely cut off.” Rick swallowed and took a deep breath. “Then they took…” he hesitated, “hostages.” 
 
“Hostages?” 
 
“Yeah—that’s what we call them—the aliens took over people’s bodies and is forcing them to do things.” Alice thought about the two men she had encountered outside her car and shuddered. 
 
“My husband was on base when they took him,” the small woman added. She put her hand over her mouth and sobbed silently. 
 
“Is that why the men that caught us were in that—condition?” Alice whispered in horror.
 
“Yes, the bodies they’re in are beginning to decay.” Rick answered. The thought of a decaying Mr. good-for-nothing flashed in her mind. “Oh god. This isn’t happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening.” 
 
Rick put his finger to his lips and stared into her eyes. “Shhhh,” he said, “easy now.”
 
But it was happening. It was quiet for a few minutes while Alice took it all in. She realized now that she was sitting inside a van. It was moving slowly down the highway. 
 
“So why didn’t I hear the message?”  she whispered finally. 
“I was wondering that too,” Rick said quietly. “Maybe you were far enough away?” 
 
“So, what do they want?  Do we know?” she whispered. She noticed a couple of nervous glances. 
 
Rick kneeled in front of her. She was still holding the scarf. He gently took it from her. “This isn’t easy to say, but as far as we can tell, they’re using the hostages to take babies and children.” Horror-filled recognition flooded Alice’s face. Rick thrust the scarf into her mouth just in time to mask the scream.
 
The group in the van, Alice later learned, were from the same church. They explained that they had picked her up from the side of the road where she had collapsed after escaping the hostage. They were defying a “shelter in place” order issued just before the comms blackout and instead were trying to flee to the desert. 
 
“We all decided it was best to get out of Dodge,” a young husband was explaining quietly (Alice assumed the woman clinging to his arm was his wife). “They don’t seem to notice us--unless we scream or yell or cry out. We don’t know why--it seems to hurt them or something, and that makes them mad.” 
 
“Like crazy-ass-out-of-control mad,” a young woman whispered. It was Rick’s teenaged daughter. “Hostages show up out of nowhere and all hell breaks loose,” she added quietly.
 
When they stopped at a rest stop Alice noticed that she was still hearing the radio static even though she was far away from the van. She thought it was her imagination. “Nah, we all hear it,” Rick said, “it’s been that way since they landed. It’s like they’re drowning out the sound of our voices—at least that’s one hypothesis.”
 
“So why can’t we fight them?” she asked when they got back to the van. “There must be something we can do besides running.”
 
“What?”, the young husband whispered angrily, “you think we’ve been sitting on our friggin’ hands for a week?”   He took a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s just that we lost our kids too.” His wife began sobbing quietly. 
 
Tears streamed down Alices face. “So we wait?” she cried softly, “we just fucking wait?”
 
“What do you suggest?” Rick asked, his voice quiet and calm.
 
“Let’s go to the base—see if…” The small woman cut her off. “They’re all gone.”  
 
“Gone where?” 
 
“They were all taken as--hostages,” she replied. An image of decaying Mr. Good-for-nothing flashed in Alice’s mind again and she winced.
 
“Look, we told you, we agreed that the best chance of surviving is to hole up somewhere and wait a while,” the man named Ben whispered. “And if the hostages are rotting, they’re gonna need replacements.”
 
“So that’s the plan?” Alice’s anger was clearly rising. 
 
“You got a better one?” 
 
“Yes, how about we try to find our kids?” she hissed through clenched teeth. 
 
“Where Alice?” Rick asked quietly—he was still calm. 
 
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice rising slightly. 
 
“Hush!” the small woman shouted in a whisper. 
 
Alice was staring into Rick’s eyes now. She modulated her voice, “Rick, we have to try, please promise me we’ll try.” 
 
Rick sighed. “Ok, but it’s gonna take time—we don’t even know what we’re dealing with.” 
 
Alice sobbed. “We need a plan,” she whispered. 
 
“Yes--as soon as we find someplace safe—where we can think. You said you didn’t hear the message, that means that their reach is limited,” Rick whispered. 
 
Of course! Why hadn’t she thought about this before? “I know a place we can go,” she whispered excitedly.   She told the group about the prepper farm. It meant backtracking some, but they agreed it would be a good place to hide for a while. 
 
“And then we’ll make a plan, right Rick?” 
 
“Sure,” he whispered, trying to sound sincere.
 
Arriving at the farm made the pain of missing the twins worse for Alice and she refused to give up trying to find them. The pain also hardened her resolve not to let those creatures take the baby boy now growing in her belly. Her role in the group reflected this resolve. She refused to give in to despair or let the others succumb to hopelessness.
 
But it was at night that her fears took over in the form of a recurring nightmare. In it, she’d wake up with a start and look around. “Oh, thank God, thank God!” she would say, “it was all just a dream—a stupid dream!” Then she’d leap out of bed and run to the nursery where she’d find an empty crib. She’d scream for the baby over and over. But the steady din of static would drown out the sound. 
 
 
 
","August 10, 2023 19:20","[[{'Michał Przywara': ""Quite a terrible situation to stumble into! Horror for sure.\n\nI was actually reminded a bit of the beginning to Walking Dead, after the coma, and given the hostages here decay as well.\n\nAlice's situation is bleak, but it looks like she's not given up yet. Indeed, this reads like the beginning of something bigger. Is this part of a longer work, or do you have plans to expand it?\n\nThanks for sharing!"", 'time': '01:45 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,dx4wtf,"Mommy, Where Did I Come From?",Judith Jerde,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/dx4wtf/,/short-story/dx4wtf/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],10 likes,"
The car sped across the George and Cynthia Mitchell Memorial Causeway. The view of the Gulf of Mexico was obscured by a foggy drizzle, but from the car’s window, she could see palm trees waving ever so slightly in the humid September breeze.The narrow causeway is the only connection between Galveston andthe Texas mainland. The car merged onto the Gulf Highway amid the early afternoon rush hour traffic.The young physician, a specialist in her field on thethe state-of-the-art biohazardous and infectious disease biocontainment unit at the University of Texas Medical Branch (UTMB) at Galveston was in a hurry.The car wound along the Gulf Waters heading toward Clear Lake City Texas and the location of NASA and the Lyndon B Johnson Space Center.A few days earlier Dr. Starr and her multi-discipline team were called in to consult with NASA flight surgeons from the Lyndon B. Johnson Medical Center on a case that was very possibly a viral or bacterial space-borne pathogen that killed members of the NASA Astronaut corps and the astronaut candidate training program.Since scientists had determined early in the space exploration initiative that viruses and bacteria were not able to survivein the vacuous state of interplanetary space, this was an alarming discovery.It seemed reasonable to conclude that the pathogen was aboard the SpaceX Dragon Capsule returning a payload of crew members from the international space station. An outbreak of this magnitude at NASA would be difficult to hide from news outlets and leaks were even harder to prevent. This was true of many things related to the space administration and it would require confidentiality, and if necessary viewed onlyon a ‘need to know’ basis. Eventually, the report would be deep-sixed and never avowed by the government.The deadly contagion attacked and desiccated the bodies of not only seasoned astronauts but candidates in the two-year training program (AsCANS), and civilian employees of the space program who cameIn contact with it.From the deceased’s postmortems, the microorganism was isolated, and testing for the pathogen commenced in the hopes of finding those exposed to it before they developed symptoms. One astronaut canidate tested positive for the contagion but remained asymptomatic. The candidate trainee, Captain John Starr Jr., was formerly a Navy pilot and the brother of Dr. Jane Starr.  A thorough workup ensued concentrating heavily on the autoimmune response of Dr. Starr’s brother. A myriad of diagnostic tests were ordered that included bloodwork and DNA sequencing.From the results of his examination, it was quickly determined that he possessed a rare marker in his blood which led to DNA and RNA chromosome testing. The outcomes of the rapid sequencing confirmed one-third of his DNA to be of nonhuman origin. The trainee’s sister in turn had blood drawnand needle aspiration of tissues, and her DNA sent to laboratory geneticists for rapid sequencing. Analysis of the specimens revealed the same anomalies as her brother’s.Compliance with HIPAA privacy laws would go only so far where this type of clinical discovery was concerned and she was afraid this information wouldn't bode well for her future or that of her family.Incidentally, at his sister’s urging, the Captain was reported to be MIA from UTMB and the AsCANS training center earlier that morning.So now the young doctor a tall and unusually attractive woman with almond-shaped pale grey eyes was following her brother's lead. To where she didn't know and from what she could only imagine were government entities that would love to slice and dice any humans with a connection to an alien race or the.Answers might be found in Clear Lake City Texas with Dr. Theophilus McConnell. A former air force colonel and the head of the contingent of NASA flight surgeons consulting with the Starr team at UTMB regarding the recent contagion that befell the National Space Agency.There was an undeniable spark between Dr. Starr and her fellow epidemiologist. That spark hopefully meant that he would help her find out who she was beneath the human exterior. It wasn’t a good idea to call the McConnell residence because of the potential of her calls being traced by entities that kept a visual on the skies for any possible hint of alien visitors and were most likely already aware of her recent findings.Darkness was moving in over the bay area and it created a deceptive feeling of safety hopefully camouflaging her movementsThe address she sought was relatively close to NASA Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center. The car lights were turned off for the final stretch to her destination just for a little added precaution in case her moves were being watched.The tall bearded man with a head full of thick red hair had always reminded her of the former Prince Harry who spoke in a low-pressured tone telling his visitor,“Doctor, what I’m about to divulge here is highly sensitive information.”The disclosure he spoke of involved an agency code-name—CATAPULT, that Dr. Theophilus McComnell was part of before joining NASA. The clandestine agency dealt intimately with alien beings. Beings who he described as,“An integral part of Earth's population and very possibly its salvation.”The admission wasn't a total shock to Dr. Starr, given the rumors about the covert work he was linked to circulated through the hallways during his short tenure at UTMB. Nevertheless, it did tweak her interest. Further background detailed a hunch he had that something more was amiss with the recent outbreak at NASA and that UTMB assessment of its origin was only half of the picture, Microbiologists were contacted at the research department of his former employer. and their help enlisted. Help that was invaluable given their expertise inbiological warfare.After receiving the specimens from the level-4 biosafety laboratory at UTMB Catapult’s biologists took a closer look at the collected material.In UTMB’s summation of their findings, they noted that the pathogen used to attack the space administration had all the earmarks of germ warfare, also referred to as biological weaponry.Perhaps, more importantly, was the aerospace medicine specialist and master flight surgeon former associate’s vast knowledge of nano-robotics and alien technology. Catapult’s Intel had recently picked up chatter regarding the nefarious activities of one of Catapult’s Interstellar partners.Consequently, the forensic makeup of microorganisms from the UTMBlab weren't completely unexpected.The agency’s nanorobotics experts identified a self-propelled, nearly undetectable machine tightly woven into the nucleus of the eukaryotic cell found in the specimens. The nanobot, for many years depicted as futuristic in science fiction novals and movies, has become an integral part of our modern medical reality. The nanobot differed from the injectable nanobots Dr. Starr was familiar with, and used to target specific cancers.Informants from the agency confided to their past associate that the nanobot they found deeply entwined in the cell was more of a heat-seeking missile. A weapon launched with a telemetry data program guiding it directly to the intended target. Further analysis of the mechanism found it was made up of a network of billions of smaller cells armed with a nanobot, ready to disburse the contagion in a time-released manner. The signature fingerprint on the bot was unmistakable proof that directed Catapult back to a civilization they had developed a relationship with well over a hundred years ago.Thousands of the civilization's people had since relocated here from the icy planet Terra Stirious hidden in the Kuiper Asteroid Belt, just outside the Earth's solar system. The information brought to mind the picture on John Starr Sr.'s office wall of an asteroid belt.Her father a renowned astronomer didn’t give the name but now his daughter wondered if itwas the Kuiper Asteroid Belt. He gave the location as being just outside Earth’s solar system and she found him often staring at it wistfully when she was a youngster.Intrigued, Dr. Starr asked,“Theophilus, how in the world did anyone travel from the edge of interstellar space to Earth?”It seemed to her that he was well acquainted with Terra Stiriousan’s history as he described their mode of transportation.“The peoples' migration to Earth took place in a vessel that was reminiscent of our tram or monorail systems.The Terra Stiriousans designed a craft equipped to travel through a designated wormhole leading to one of several active vortexes in the US and others found off our shores.”The one that often comes to mind is the Bermuda Triangle, although not widely recognized as a gateway between worlds. It was and continues to be the most frequently used port of entry for the planet’s expatriates. A retrieval unit working for his former employers met the Terra Stiriousans on their arrival at the portal.More surprising to her was Dr. McConnell's history with her family’s people, a history beginning fifteen years ago through his work in an alien assistance program. Her parents arrived here with their closest family units and their more distant offshoots. The agency disseminated all of the famille groups throughout the country and globally.“Doctor, Theophilus, Jane asked, how did Catapult come about in the first place?”Referencing the archives and what he knew from his involvement in the agency, Operation Catapult was the brainchild of a collective of concerned individuals who came from around the globe as early as the mid-eighteen hundreds. Many of whom held differing views and were from an assortment of scientific communities.However, they had the foresight to see there was trouble for our planet on the horizon, and a common goal.That Being to make contact, collaborate and offer support to outer planetary beings who wanted to aid Earth in working toward the mutually beneficial goal of saving us from ourselves.Concerned, Dr. Starr asked,“What will happen now to Earth’s relationship with Terra Stirious?”The Catapult operatives informed him that official cunniquies over the past few hours with the Terra Stiriousans suggested that the prospects for a peaceful solution looked promising. The planet’s military attachés admitted that their microbiologists and their military’s technical engineers had developed the bioweapon code-named Glacies Arma, “Loosely translated from their native language which is a series of clicks, clacks, and screeching, it means ice weapon,”Dr. McConnell told her.”“Thankfully he added, with a grin the vocal cord and inner ear implants have overcome any language barriers” “Why wouldsupposed allies of Earth turn on us,“ Jane Starr asked.“Because, Dr. McConnell answered, from the planet’s governing body’s viewpoint, the work the Terra Stiriousan volunteers came here to accomplish lagged far behind their expectations, as evidenced by continued conflicts between our world governments and the growing climate crisis,”The aforementioned ranked at the top of the government leader's list of Earth's egregious failings. They feared Earth's problems would impact their planet and other solar systems negatively, provoking the attack on the on our aeronautics and space program using their advanced germ warfare. Germ warfare they knew beforehand would not affect the former inhabitants of their planet as evidenced byCaptain Starr’s resistance.The civilization’s people came here to implement a change of direction, hoping to divert Earth from its steady path of self-destruction. It looked to the civilization’s leadership as though things were getting worse. The bioweapon was a warning shot over the bow for an Earth-running amuck. The returning capsule was in a handy location. It provided a cover, disguising it as an organism that just happened along from outer space and hitched a ride on the SpaceX shuttle.During special satellite transmissions over the past day or so with the planet's officials, all indications pointed toward the diplomatic channels opening so that negotiations could begin.According to Dr. McConnell’s contacts, the Terra Stiriousans signaled they desperately wanted a truce. The agency felt strongly that the leaders realized they had made a terrible error in judgment.“Dare I asked whatwas the process of developing what can only be described as highbred humans,”she quipped, but eyed him anxiously for an answer because it was obviousthat’s what theStarr siblings were, hybreds with a price on their heads.Theophilus McConnellwasn’t involved in the agency’s operations that far back. Nonetheless, he was aware of a more recent person to lend his expertise to the covert operation. That being someone familiar toDr. Starr. Dr. Melvin Louis, a reproductive endocrinologist, and his assistant Charlotte Fabian. Both had come to work forty some years ago for Catapult to take over an underground fertility laboratory that was set up before the turn of the century. Its purpose was to facilitate the fusion of DNA between the Terra Stiriousans and humans. “Yes, of course, Dr. Starr turned to look at him as she spoke, I recognize the names as our doctor and his nurse from when my brother and I were children. They always made house calls and it was all very hush-hush.”“House calls, yes, it would make sense to limit the chance of exposing your innate differences from that of humans to the anyone else in the medical field,”he told Jane as he reached out and stroked her cheek.In hindsight, it did seem that her medical files and those of her brother over the years showed nothing relevant to and certainly not to their ancestry. In fact they were sketchy at best, void any actual details and now there was an answer.There was no firsthand knowledge of the program for Theophilus to refer to,only the files he had accessed before. In the Starr’s case, as in most instances her father's genetic material and that of a human donor, which comprised more than half of the sperm donation, were conjoined by a process perfected by Terra Stiriousans scientists. The human DNA made up more of the genetic offering because, early in the planning stage of the genetic manipulation objective, the program's architects believed it would limit the need for extensive augmentation of the more obvious physical dissimilarities in future offspring. Fertilization proceeded using the sperm from the two separate donors and the component developed by their scientists to bind the two donor's chromosomes together to fertilize the ovum as one. Implanting of the resulting embryos took place in her mother's uterus because the extraction of the ova originally came from her Fallopian Tubes. After implantation occurred Mary Starr carried Jane and Captain Starr in her womb for the remainder of each one’s gestational period.  The idea that there were secret fertility labs at work genetically engineering a new race of people in the late eighteen hundreds was ironic in Jane's opinion, and she reminded him of that sad fact rather indignantly,“Women in this country didn't have the right to vote, never mind any reproductive autonomy,” Theophilus McConnell stepped towards Jane, encircling her in his arms, and he whispered“Jane, listen to me, I believe you’re safe for the moment, but I think it best we get out of here.”“What about my parents and John?"" she asked, her voice trailing off.They are safe under Catapult’s protection and the same is true for you and me.Please trust me, Dr. Starr, I’ve been in love with you from the first day I stepped onto the UTMB helipad after the flight from the Johnson Medical Center. Before he could finished their lips came together and the realization that she wanted more than was possible at the moment set a shiver through her body.“I promise you, he murmured against her soft short brown hair, we will return to work in a medical capacity for Catapult.“Your family will join us to continue their work to better our world. “But first,” he added with a smile, we’ll need to disappear for a while. That will allow time for us to become better acquainted.”She inhaled deeply and uttered a simple, “yes.”
","August 11, 2023 03:27",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,0gz9dl,Even Utopia Has War,Nicole Philip,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/0gz9dl/,/short-story/0gz9dl/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'LGBTQ+', 'Sad']",10 likes,"
 In the beginning, it seemed as though this was perfect. The world was in dire need of help. 
	The news headlines read like a sci-fi novel.
	Good news! The world is no longer warming! Global Warming is officially over!
	Bad news? It’s because we have entered into a period coined “Global Boiling”.
	Humanity had cooked the entire planet. One that was rife with war, corruption, pollution, poaching, murder, sex trafficking… We killed everything we touched. Humans were destructive by nature and sought out conflict everywhere we went. 
	Then they came. 
	The Utawaya looked human. They’d blended in at first, merging with the masses, but as the world went further and further up shit creek with not a paddle in sight, they made themselves known. 
	They came in peace, they said, quoting every Hollywood sci-fi movie about aliens to have ever existed. They’d spent a long time monitoring Earth, they said, learning our ways, so they might come to land and join us. 
	Help us. 
	And, for years, they did. 
	They had technology that even the greatest human minds could never have replicated. Net zero energy sources, machines that outperformed the combustion engine, a social system that harkened more back to the days when items were traded instead of money, where everyone had worth and a contribution to a community. The Poverty gap closed, despite the filthy rich protesting. Weapons of mass destruction were banned and disarmed. Tyrants were overthrown. People liberated. Wars ended. Crime prevented. They promised that they could reverse the damage done to the planet.
	It truly was the coming of The Age of Peace.
	Earth was thriving, and so were the people.	
	Then came the culling. 
	It was slow at first and started with the dredges of the barrel. The ones no one cared about. The Utawaya had technology that could read the thoughts of a person. There was no more doubt over a prisoner's guilt. Mass murderers, rapists, and pedophiles were the first to be killed. Then came extremist groups with the intent to cause mass harm or disaster. Terrorists, human traffickers, poachers. Eventually, those people ran out too. 
	Earth was massively overpopulated, the Utawaya said. The numbers needed to be controlled like we used to do with deer destroying forests. 
	No one was safe, really, but the Utawaya had one rule: pregnant women and women with young children were exempt. 
	Everyone else? Fair game. 
	Some volunteered, of course.
	Just because Earth was a utopia didn’t mean people weren’t still depressed or suicidal. 
	Even that wasn’t enough for the Utawaya.
	They began a roster. Bi-annually people were selected at random to be volunteers, like some twisted version of The Hunger Games. 
	At least Katniss had a chance. Those selected have no chance. 
	If you’re a man, you die. If you’re a woman and you have no children, you die. The male population decreased dramatically in the first ten years, and so did the reproduction rate. We all prayed to forgotten Gods that eventually the culling would stop, but every six months people were selected, and within days their bodies were returned shrouded in white.
 It is an honor, the Utawaya told us, to give back to the Mother in the purest form– to return your life and your body into Her waiting hands as She rebalances the scales. 
	It wasn’t long until people started to rebel, and then things changed, and not for the better as we had hoped. 
	Our rebellion was met with fury and an iron fist. 
	The Utawaya were enraged. They’d given us so much and asked for so little, and this was how we thanked them. By showing that destruction was at the core of who we were. 
	We were parasites, they said, and they would start the world anew. 
	Turns out, even Utopia has War… 
 
* * *
 
I cough as yet another cloud of dust falls from the roof, clouding my vision and drying out my mouth better than an old bottle of Vodka ever could. We hide in a bunker on the outskirts of London. It isn’t very big, but we make it work, jamming the seven bodies in like a tin of sardines. 
	“God bless the doomsday preppers,” I mutter under my breath. 
	No one laughs.	
	I lean over the table that the four of us have gathered around and squint my eyes to see the map in the dim candlelight. It isn’t easy to access tech anymore. Candles work, just not as well as a torch would. 
	The others talk under their breath, running over the plan once more. I hold my breath and count to ten. 
	The panic is building in my chest, coiling around me like a snake. 
	Mick stares down at the table, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly. I know he’s running over every possible route in his head, and every possible problem that could arise. 
	Our one chance-- there can be no room for error.
	We’ve waited a long time for the leaders of the Utawaya to be in one place. 
	The door to the bunker bangs open. My eyes lift and lock with a familiar, startling blue pair. The balaclava hides most of her face, but I see Rave’s eyes crinkle as she smiles at me and I smile back, some of the panic fading away.  
	“You started without me?” The love of my life demands as she kicks the door shut behind her. Her hands are smeared with oil and dirt when she lifts them to pull off the balaclava, revealing her shock of silver blonde hair. I shuffle to the right, clearing a space at the table for her. 
	“You’re late.” That is all Mick says. Rave fills the space beside me, her arm winding around my waist as she presses a chaste kiss to my temple. We’re all stressed. 
	“She’s here now,” I mutter, affixing our de facto leader with my best no-nonsense stare. Mick’s lips press into a thin line. 
	“Don’t be late next time.” He grouses. Rave’s arm tightens around me. I knock my hip against hers. Silence falls over the group as she examines the map. 
	“So, this is it.” She says at last “Are we sure it will work?” Silence once more. The two men at the table share a look with one another. Abel and Mick are the only two men in our group. I don’t blame them for sticking together.	
	Men were rarer since the cullings. 
	“This is it. And it’ll work.” Mick says. He looks between us all, his gaze wary. He nods to the other person at the table. Lucille is an older woman, the oldest of us all. She sighs as the attention falls on her and smooths the front of her shirt. It’s a nervous tick, one I’d noticed very early on in our time together. 
	People are what I do. 
	We all have a role to play here, and Lucille is about to enact her part. 
	I watch Lucille, noting the tightening of her eyes, and the slight tremble of her hands. I look back at Mick and note similar movements from him. He wipes his hands against his legs. 
	Sweaty palms, shifty eyes, dilated pupils. My own eyes narrow. 
	“What are you two hiding?” I demand, pointing a finger between each of them. Lucille jumps and avoids my gaze, but it’s still she who speaks. 
	“There’s a reason no one has done this before.” Lucille’s voice holds the soft remnants of an Eastern European accent. We don’t hear much variety in accents anymore. Traveling to other countries isn’t possible now. 
	“The device that Abel reconfigured can launch the Nuke.” She says. 
	The pause is pregnant.
	Lucille deliberately avoids my gaze, looking anywhere but. 
	Apprehension coils in my gut.
	“And?” I press, certain there’s more. Panic is rising again. 
	I grip Rave’s hand under the table.
	“And the Utawaya took steps that mean that entering coordinates won’t work anymore. Someone will need to take the beacon inside, unseen, and keep the device powered up. The warhead will target the link.” 
	“Inside. Unseen.” I repeat robotically. 
	“Like a ghost,” Rave whispers at my side and my heart drops out my ass. 
	Raven is our ghost. That is her role. I feel sick. 
	“It’s a suicide mission!” I protest, “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
	“None of our lives are worth more than the greater good.” Lucille intones. I slam my hand down on the table. Rave runs her hand up and down my back. 
	The movement is meant to be soothing, but it only serves to remind me of everything I will lose.
	“Mel,” she whispers. Tears burn my eyes and I shake my head, my hand curling into a fist against the table. 
	“Make the preparations. I’ll do it.” Rave murmurs. 
	Her words split my heart in two and the world falls away. 
	In two days, we will bomb the Utawayan summit. In two days, Rave will die. 
	And I intend to die with her. 
 
* * *
 
	“We don’t need to do this, Rave,” I whisper. Raven draws in a breath. 
	“Yes, we do.” 
	“We’re just proving everything they’ve ever said about us to be true.” I plead. 
	“Maybe. Maybe we are destructive hateful creatures, but that doesn’t give them the right to do what they’ve done.” I reach up and run my fingers along Raven’s jaw, the truth settling into my bones. 
	“I know, Rave. I know. I just wish there was a better way.” 
	This woman is my world. My universe. I won’t let her do this alone. 
 
* * *
 
	The bunker is quiet. The others look at one another. Then at Rave. Then at me. Rave fixes me with a glare that would send a lesser woman running. I meet her stare. 
	“No.” She protests, “No.” 
	“You’ll need a driver. You’ll need someone to keep them distracted if something goes wrong.” I insist. The atmosphere grows heavy. 
	“You’ll die.” Raven’s voice cracks. I smile a sad smile. 
	“Where you go, I go, Little Bird,” I tell her. It doesn’t take the others long to agree. 
	That hurts more than it should.
	Perhaps the Utawaya are right. Maybe we are all broken and corrupt inside, ready to sacrifice one another for our own personal gain. 
	Raven and I hold one another tightly as night rolls in, curled into the same cot. 
	Tomorrow morning the others leave. 
	The day after tomorrow, we both die. 
	But so do the Utawaya.
* * *
	The others left with barely a backward glance. Only Lucille had hesitated, making sure we knew what needed to be done. They’d go north, find a way into Scotland. We had no way to know how the fallout would behave in the new atmosphere the Utawaya had been creating. 
	Rave and I took the old underground to get to the Summit Building. There was an old service entrance into the basement which allowed us to get in unseen, as required. 
	A pair of ghosts walking willingly to their death. 
	The tunnels were unguarded and we made it in without a hitch. 
	Perhaps the Gods had not forgotten us after all. 
	Now, we sit on the floor above that basement. We needed to ascend a floor to get a signal on the device. Many of the satellites stopped working in the wake of the war, but the Soviets still had power on theirs. 
	Of course, they did.
	I look at Raven, my heart in my throat. 
	“Last chance to dip,” I whisper. Her eyes lift to mine and I find hers lined with the silver of tears. She reaches out and takes my hand. Far above us, the Thirteen leaders of the Utawaya clans are meeting, the sound of their conversation, playing on speakers so the assembled guests can hear, filtering down to us levels below them. 
	There would be no humans above. 
	Humans didn’t need to be present to discuss how they could be eradicated.
	“No dipping.” Before either of us can have second thoughts, she presses the part of the screen as Lucille had directed. 
	Silence falls. 
	“How long did Luce say we’d have?” I ask softly. In contrast, my pulse pounds in my ears. Terror raises a cold sweat along my brow and down my back. 
	Death races towards us. Even if we wanted to, we could not escape it now. 
	“Fifteen minutes.” Rave breaths. 
 
* * *
	Fifteen minutes. 
	The first five are spent telling Rave how much I love her. How much I wish we’d met in a different time when we might have had a life. 
	A future. 
	Another two are spent holding one another. 
 
* * * 
	Six minutes to go. 
	We fall silent, holding hands. 
	Mine shake. So do Raven’s. 
	Above us, the alien invaders of our world discuss how they will squash the human resistance, and how they will re-make the world without the violent, abhorrent creatures known as humanity.
	They don’t know that the humans still have teeth. 
	We bite back. 
	They plan and they scheme, and they fail to see that in their desperation to crush our violence, they succumbed to it. 
	Perhaps violence and destruction are rampant in humanity. Perhaps we have a proclivity for disparity and aggression. Maybe we do destroy the things we want rather than let another have it. 
	But these traits are not unique to humankind. Above us, the Utawaya fail to see how flawed and corrupt they, too have become. They, like we always have, fail to see that War is not the answer, that peace cannot be had alongside violence. 
	It is as though the ruinous nature of humanity was a virus and it spread to them. 
 
* * * 
 
	The ends do not justify the means. 
	This is my ruling thought as the timer hits thirty seconds and the room above falls silent. The air is split with a high whistle as the warhead streaks through the atmosphere. 
	This is a mistake. We never should have done this.
	We had hoped that in the wake of our attack, the world could be reclaimed. We could come out on top. 
	We were so blinded by revenge that we failed to see that there would be no winners.
	Rave and I look only at one another as the bomb detonates. Within seconds most of London will be in Nuclear Winter, and this building, and every Utawaya within, will be gone. 
	The world will keep on turning, but would our sacrifice change anything? Would the death of the thirteen leaders change anything, or would a new War begin?
	War was inevitable. 
	Even Utopia has War.  
 
","August 06, 2023 19:26","[[{'Martin Ross': 'This prompt brought out some of the best stories I’ve read here, especially when the writers went beyond mere sci-fi to address modern issues. A couple weeks back, the Global Boiling issue spurred one of my stories — its terrifying. The climax simply rocked. You did a great job of conveying what we’re coming to, and how the misguided and controlling believe they can “rebuild” some utopia that never existed. Well-told and extremely well-done.', 'time': '15:18 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nicole Philip': ""Thank you so much for the feedback! \nIt was certainly out of my comfort zone. I'm a high fantasy writer so the switch to something more modern and within the realm of possibility was a different kind of challenging!"", 'time': '07:04 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Martin Ross': 'I’ll look forward to your fantasy work, but I think you should do more dark humor and sociological sci-fi, because you batted this out of the park!', 'time': '14:53 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nicole Philip': ""Thank you so much for the feedback! \nIt was certainly out of my comfort zone. I'm a high fantasy writer so the switch to something more modern and within the realm of possibility was a different kind of challenging!"", 'time': '07:04 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Martin Ross': 'I’ll look forward to your fantasy work, but I think you should do more dark humor and sociological sci-fi, because you batted this out of the park!', 'time': '14:53 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Martin Ross': 'I’ll look forward to your fantasy work, but I think you should do more dark humor and sociological sci-fi, because you batted this out of the park!', 'time': '14:53 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Fernando César': 'Hi Nicole\nNice ending, with the climax right there and the ambivalence in the last second! I enjoyed the second part more than the first, were you set up the context. I’m more a fan of the show don’t tell idea.\nI did find some sentences that I was confused about (I’m not a native speaker). \nThose selected have no chance.\nThis sentence is the only one in the present tense in that part\n\nrevealing her shock of silver blonde hair\nI couldn’t understand the use of the word shock here\n\nPeople are what I do. \nThis was also confusing.\n\nI also liked h...', 'time': '23:13 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Nicole Philip': 'Thank you for the feedback! \nI don\'t often write from the 1st person POV, so this was a bit more of a challenge for me, as I kept slipping into the habits of third person POV.\n\nA ""shock of hair"" often means a thick mass of hair. \nPeople are what I do was perhaps too colloquial, but I was aiming for a ""conversational"" narrative. It was meant as an abridged way of saying that the narrators ""role"" within the group was understanding and reading people and their body language. I wish I\'d had the word count to build on that a bit more, but the wor...', 'time': '15:57 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Fernando César': 'Thanks for clearing that up for me!', 'time': '21:29 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Nicole Philip': 'Thank you for the feedback! \nI don\'t often write from the 1st person POV, so this was a bit more of a challenge for me, as I kept slipping into the habits of third person POV.\n\nA ""shock of hair"" often means a thick mass of hair. \nPeople are what I do was perhaps too colloquial, but I was aiming for a ""conversational"" narrative. It was meant as an abridged way of saying that the narrators ""role"" within the group was understanding and reading people and their body language. I wish I\'d had the word count to build on that a bit more, but the wor...', 'time': '15:57 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Fernando César': 'Thanks for clearing that up for me!', 'time': '21:29 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Fernando César': 'Thanks for clearing that up for me!', 'time': '21:29 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,lbvfyq,The Pale Goddess of Our Dreams,Jonathan Page,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/lbvfyq/,/short-story/lbvfyq/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Drama', 'Adventure']",10 likes,"
NEW YORK, NY: From the beginning we thought we knew the script by heart. The cryptic clandestine warning given only to those in our highest government ranks. Ominous alien ships casting shadows on city streets from above and attracting throngs of mesmerized pedestrian onlookers, exiting cafes and office buildings. The ships showing instant aggression, releasing smaller pods, which waste no time vaporizing an innocent onlooker. Shrill screams ring out: “Aaaahhhhh!!” Someone points to the ship and yells, “Run!” Cars stranded in sudden gridlock are abandoned. People scramble chaotically in every direction. The camera pans to news reports on a television in a deli, conspicuously tuned to various news stations, the world over, letting us know this is a worldwide attack. A mother abandons her car, drops her Louis Vuitton purse, has one of her high-heeled Dior shoes jammed in a stormwater grate, and leaves both behind, as she frantically grabs her child’s hand and drags the kid down the stairs of a nearby subway station, trying to get her family to safety. But it never happened.Something appeared in the sky alright. But that is where the similarities end. There was no warning by NASA that alien ships had been detected to make for a dramatic build-up, no ominous landing to heighten tensions, no disruption of our communication satellites to demonstrate how impossibly outmatched we were, and no vaporizing lasers to outrun. They were just there. A million ships—who could count them all. They blipped into the skies in the twinkling of an eye. The ships were silver balls that looked almost like jingly Christmas bells. They had a small seam or foil around the middle that was saucer-like, and along the bottom were crossed stripes with bulb-like openings toward the middle—just like jingle bells have. They were roughly the size of Spaceship Earth at Epcot—not small, but not so huge as to throw all earthly proportions out the window. These cross-hatched areas on the hull of the ships contained pulsing lights that blinked in greens, blues, yellows, and reds. The ships hovered for a moment, and then unceremoniously descended to their landing stations, in a gradual and disarming manner. Three tripod-like-legs reached to the ground from each ship and perched them all in place.* * *EDWARDS, CALIFORNIA: I was at Edwards Air Force Base with Connie, where we had been going over a test plan for the newest model of the NGAD fighter jet. By the way, NGAD stands for Next Generation Air Dominance. Wasn’t that a joke. Connie said, “Doug ‘Dogsbody’ Bader, recent graduate of baby pilot’s school, and destined to forever fly the safest flight plans and have all throttles, controls, and flight settings perfectly adjusted by his crack co-pilot—the best in the business.”“Ok, Connie. I get it. You are the real hero of this story.”Connie was my flight test engineer, and I was a naval flight officer of Lieutenant rank, whose entire family was ex-navy or air force. All I wanted was to be the youngest to make Captain on my detail and finally get some combat experience under my belt. Connie thought bigger picture and used to quote the Art of War where it says, “To win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.” Connie had other Yoda-like quotes that she sprinkled into conversation to pour cold water on my ambitions. I had begun to suspect she was a closet pacifist. But she would probably make Admiral while I soldiered away in obscurity and failed to meet my goals, just like I failed to heed orders. Or maybe she was a traitorous Lago in a sweet disguise, after all, manipulating me like a marionette and thwarting my ambitions at every turn.You can imagine our surprise when Rear Admiral Colonel Mickey Davidson appeared in the hanger an hour before pre-flight inspections were set to begin.“Uhh, sorry if I woke you two. But we have a situation,” Admiral Davidson said as we saluted, and the Admiral saluted back halfheartedly. “What seems to be the matter, Admiral,” I asked.“I don’t know how to say this. But we’ve been invaded by aliens.”“That’s good sir, very funny--now what is it?”“Aliens, son. Hand to God.”“When did this happen, Admiral,” Connie asked.“About ten minutes ago. The report will be going out on the PA shortly, but I have a mission for you two. I hope you don’t mind Connie, but you’ll have to throw on a G-suit and go up with this ground pounder. Make sure he doesn’t accidentally initiate a war-of-the-worlds.”“I can babysit the zoomie, but what’s the mission, Admiral?”“Reconnaissance.”***GENEVA, SWITZERLAND: Dr. Fabiana Giancarlo had been sitting at her desk at her corner office suite in the upper offices above the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) when Luk had called her down to inspect a magnet quench in sections 3 and 4.The dark corridors of the tunnel were lit by overhead fluorescent lights. It reminded her of the two narrow shoots of the Holland Tunnel in New York City. Fabiana donned a white hardhat and rode a one-speed Schwinn bicycle with a front-side basket through the tunnels toward where she was to meet Luk, calling to her mind the scene in the Wizard of Oz where the Wicked Witch rode a bicycle in the cyclone. What a day she was having!The long line of segmented particle accelerators appeared to her as a giant Ouroboros. She thought of the strange dreams of the Chemist, August Kekulé, who saw that mysterious symbol and awoke to solve the chemical structure of benzene. Atomicity and valency sprung from a single dream, which in turn unlocked the vision of dynamic atoms and molecules, which drew into focus the weirdness of the microcosm and murky quantum mechanics, which for all its quirks looked oddly like the celestial plane in miniature—like a tiny constellation of stars. It haunted Fabiana to think that if the macrocosm was filled with life, as now appeared to be the case, then was the microcosm also teaming with life, which could be destroyed just as pitilessly by their mundane experiments? Was she the real destroyer of worlds—ignorant of the massacres she was committing? Or was it possible that she would magnify these demons and bring them forth in our world? She wondered where the boundary of science’s stable conceits finally ended and gave way to unbridled magic. Kekulé had written poetically, “I turned my chair towards the fire and dozed. Again the atoms were gambolling before my eyes… all twining and twisting in snakelike motion. But look! What was that? One of the snakes had seized hold of its own tail, and the form whirled mockingly before my eyes.” And so, in the wake of visions of snakes, sausages and molecular charts, a few scientists had dreamed a further dream of cataloguing the irreducible subatomic world—which with every discovery became smaller and vaster still. If only Kekulé could have known that protons could be smashed as if by a hammer and their shattered pieces seen by human eyes!Fabiana was haunted by the vision she’d seen two days ago, after which she changed the settings and ran the collider successfully, achieving a result she’d never hoped for. But at what cost?Luk said, “It’s like what happened in 2008, but worse.”Breaking hard and putting her arms akimbo as she balanced on one leg, Fabiana said,“What?”“We’ve got radiation and magnetic leaking.”“No, no we don’t!”“Afraid we do Doctor.”* * *CASTEL GANDOLFO, ROME, ITALY: The nametags on the dais read: Ross Coulthart, Investigative Reporter, David Grusch, Intelligence Officer, Pasquale Borgomeo, Vatican Radio, and Brother Guy Consolmagno, Pope’s Astronomer.The learned guests were seated in a circular assembly room, with some reporters with cameras and microphones kneeling or sitting in the central area. A large statue of Shiva like the one at CERN was at the front of the room at the head of the table, where Brother Guy sat.“Nonhuman biologics,” David Grusch said.“Officer, do you believe these are the same aliens that have shown up at our door,” Ross Coulthart asked.“Who can say,” David said.“But let us remember, God proves science, not the other way around,” said Guy Consolmagno.“Indeed, they are our brothers every bit as much as the saints,” said Pasquale Borgomeo.And like a scene from King Arthur’s Court, where the Green Knight appears to present the challenge of a Christmas Game, two aliens in long black robes and clean bald heads, that otherwise looked like Hollywood actors strode into the televised roundtable event and stood directly in the middle of the assembly.One of them spoke: “We have much to discuss, but first we must ask for a favor.”“First, what are your names,” Coulthart asked.“Ohh. You’d never be able to pronounce them,” the male said. And then with a sly smile he said, “You can call me Carey Grant.”And the female shot up to say, “And I’ll go by Audrey Hepburn.”The group of scientists, journalists, and priests looked at one another in shock. One doesn’t expect their gods to covet personas from Hollywood’s Golden Age. And everyone assembled for the event immediately doubted the wisdom of these far-off travelers.* * *The sound of the B-52H Stratofortress Bomber was like the low rumbling of thunder before the lightning reached your location with sharp crackling rattles.“Dogsbody, your target is Castel Gandolfo in Rome. Deploy the nukes.”“You can’t be serious,” I said into the comm.“Afraid so Dogsbody. Orders from the commander-in-chief.”“But sir—”“You wanted battle duty, son. Well, this is what it looks like,” Rear Admiral Davidson said in a stern tone, but I could hear his voice crack as he tried to maintain composure.It occurred to me that the commander-in-chief was senile and probably couldn’t remember what he had for breakfast if the fate of the world hung in the balance—which it did. I turned to Connie and flipped off the comms.“We aren’t really going to do this, right?”“Orders are orders,” she said. But we were supersonic, and her face was squeezed to the seat like a lemon which made it hard to take her seriously, and I waited for her to return to form.* * *The assembly walked out onto the long dock of Lago Albano Lake, which for all its majesty had the distinct look of a meteor’s crater.Brother Guy Consolmagno, the Pope’s Astronomer, with his professorial mien and stately gray beard, dressed in a friar’s frock and Catholic collar, was waste deep in the cool blue waters of the lake.Carey and Audrey jumped into the lake holding their noses, and arose like two pink babies, with dew still on their brows.Brother Guy, dunked Carey first, then Audrey, saying the rites in Latin and then English, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” As each of them emerged with glee, the attendants clothed them in large terry cloth towels from the gift shop at the observatory.In a moment of high fervor, Brother Guy said in a whisper to them, “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit...”The two aliens looked at him in wonder, and said, “now where on Earth can we find this Christ of yours?”* * *Dr. Fabiana Giancarlo said, “can we reverse the protocol?”Luk said, “it could make the entire collider unstable—it wasn’t built for those forces.”“Worst case, we blow ourselves up, no?”“But doctor, that is unacceptable.”“I’m saying, no civilians would be hurt, right? We’ve taken precautions in the case of a system failure, that’s why we are so deep underground.”“Ok. But why are you entertaining this. What is going through your mind?”“What makes you so sure those are alien ships,” Fabiana said.“What do you mean, Doctor?”“Luk! Think! I adjusted the experiment the night before those ships appeared. What if, for instance, we opened up a portal to another world, another dimension. Do you follow? These may not be ‘aliens’ from outer space, but ‘aliens’ from inner space, or God forbid, somewhere much worse.”“This isn’t science, Doctor—but pure speculation.”“Oh, Luk. I’m afraid that’s all science is, after all—just rank speculation, with some corroborating proof and a good press kit. No one can search the depths of the cosmos, but God, and none knows the truth of existence but he who set it in motion. We grasp, but our reach exceeds our grasp—and I think this time we reached too far.”“Tell me what to do.”“We must reverse the magnification—we must run the entire experiment directly in reverse. God willing, we will send those hounds of hell back where they came from.”* * *Connie had regained her composure. And now she was in a sentimental mood.“It was nice knowing you Dogsbody.”“Do you really have to call me that?”“Would you prefer grunt?”“No!”“Then Dogsbody it is.”“We can’t do this Connie. We are going to be directly responsible for a war-of-the-worlds. Wasn’t that the exact thing that the Admiral told you to keep me away from?”“He also sent us up in a BUFF armed with nuclear missiles—you think that was accidental?”“Big-Ugly-Fat-Fella.”“Exactly.”“You are usually the voice of reason in these matters.”“Not this time.”“Connie! We are talking about nuking an area twenty-three kilometers from Rome, as the crow flies. That is well within the twenty-mile radiation cone for the nuclear fallout. The Colosseum will be radioactive for a century.”“Better than mankind being dead forever.”“Be reasonable, Connie. The Admiral’s report was that there are two aliens there. How is killing two aliens out of a million going to do anything but usher in Armageddon?”* * *“So, you are looking for Christ,” Brother Guy said from a leather chair behind his glass Alaska writing desk in the study of the observatory.“That is why we came,” Carey Grant said.“Really. And did you read our Bible and realize that he is a spirit, non-corporeal, not of this Earth.”“Oh no,” Audrey said. “That is not what He said at all. Isn’t it true that if two of us believers are gathered together, he is here also?”“My God!” the priest exclaimed, “you are evangelists!”Carey and Audrey looked at one another and let out a maniacal laugh.“Hell no. Skeptics… I believe is your word. It’s just that in all the universe there is no other species that claims eternal life as a birthright. Granted, you are cordoned off here in this backwater, a Nazareth of the cosmos, which is why no one ventures out here.” Carey grant looked down at his sandals a moment before continuing. “But Earth was on our way, and we had to pay a visit.”“So, what is your interest in our religion then,” the priest asked.“It’s just that, if your people believed that Christ’s return is imminent, if they were to see miraculous deeds being performed by veritable angels… I mean, your world is filled with believers… in that case, wouldn’t they bow down and obediently follow any command?”The priest felt an ominous presence as if the room had filled with shadows, and then apprehended that, perhaps, this was the end of days that had been foretold.* * *“Ok, Luk. Run the protocol.”“Are you sure?”“I am sure,” Fabiana said.The whirring mechanism of the Ouroboros hummed with the energy of a thousand stars. The lightning of smashing protons filled the chamber with an orchestra of colliding worlds. And Fabiana prayed a silent prayer.“What do you imagine this will do,” Luk asked.“If I am right,” she said, “maybe we will pull the demons of hell back into the pit.”A few moments passed in eerie silence. Luk and Fabiana walked out to the front of the CERN laboratory where the statue of Shiva stood like a dark omen. They could see the lines of orbs stretching to the horizon in an unholy grid, like an army of monsters. And then, as if it were all a bad dream, they vanished as quickly as they had appeared.“We’ve done it,” Luk exclaimed.“Thank the Lord,” Fabiana said, not believing there was a Lord, but for the first time apprehending that maybe hell was real after all.* * *“T-minus forty-seconds,” Connie said.“Jesus!” I exclaimed.“Son, I’ve just received a report from the Vatican that the orbs are gone. But the commander-in-chief hasn’t recalled the order. I’m sorry son,” the Admiral said.I flipped off the comms.“What do we do Connie,” I asked, clasping the cross around my neck.“You’re the pilot hotshot. It’s your call.”“Hey, Connie, have you ever been to the Colosseum?”“Can’t say that I have.”“You know, being that it’s the end of the world and all—and on the off chance I’m right and this whole nightmare is over—would you want to get dinner?”“You’re kidding.”“Dead serious.”“Ok. Dogsbody. But you’ll be court marshaled.”“So, the Gaeta U.S. Air Force Base is a few clicks from our position. I’m gonna set down there and we’ll rent a two-seater Vespa and its two-hours to Rome. We’ll dine by the Spanish Steps.”“So, we’re going AWOL?”“It wouldn’t be the first time.”“You know this could be the end of the world.”“That’s a chance I’m willing to take, if you are.”“Ok flyboy. I’m in. But it’s your funeral.”
","August 07, 2023 06:05","[[{'Arthur McNamee': 'I liked the way the story was broken up into connecting segments and the language was spot on. Great story and it kept my interest throughout.', 'time': '22:18 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Jonathan Page': 'Thanks Arthur!', 'time': '01:05 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Jonathan Page': 'Thanks Arthur!', 'time': '01:05 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': ""Don't know how you do it Jonathan. A story a day is phenomenal. \nI can barely finish 1 a week!. Takes me a few days to get some inspiration and plan a story out. To be fair I only get an hour or two writing time a day duebto other responsibilities but still.. your output is majorly impressive without sacrificing quality \nHats off to you!"", 'time': '13:35 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Jonathan Page': 'Thank you Derrick!', 'time': '05:14 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Jonathan Page': 'Thank you Derrick!', 'time': '05:14 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Does that mean Carey Grant and Audrey Hepburn vanished?', 'time': '14:10 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Jonathan Page': 'Yes maam, at least that is the idea.', 'time': '17:54 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Jonathan Page': 'Yes maam, at least that is the idea.', 'time': '17:54 Aug 07, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,pweup1,Quarantined!,Arthur McNamee,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/pweup1/,/short-story/pweup1/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],10 likes,"
 
“M12  West 14th Street to Columbus Circle”, the bus driver shouted into the bus intercom as he opened the bus door. 
 
 Marvin Teller climbed into this New York City bus huffing and puffing after a four block sprint.  His gray jogging pants and white T-shirt were heavily and deeply wrinkled, as though he had slept in these clothes the night before. He carried a well-worn leather case beside him as he went to take his seat on this New York City Transit bus. 
 
He briefly looked out the left-hand side bus windows at the large black disk which stood motionlessly just above the city’s tall and magnificent skyscrapers. At nearly one mile in diameter and about four hundred feet thick, it was hard to miss and conversations have erupted throughout the city and the world since its unexpected arrival two weeks ago on August 10th. 
 
Marvin took a window seat on the right side front and overheard many of the passenger’s conversations around him.  Due to being absorbed in his own personal troubles and thoughts, he did not get involved in their conversation. However, he heard and listened to what they all were saying from time to time. 
 
“ The military has got to know something and is not telling us.   .  .  . they have been working with the ‘Greys’ since Roswell at Area 51”, a young black man said, wearing a finely tailored gray and black pinstripe business suit and carrying stock portfolios in his left hand from Merrill Lynch. 
 
The bus was momentarily shaken by the sound and strong vibrations of two F-15s which buzzed past it at about  Mach 3 and some 1500 feet up.   The two large fighter jets looked like two small fruit flies against the monster black disc sitting motionlessly above them. 
 
“ Yeah,  the US has imposed a 30 day quarantine against any chance encounter or contact with these aliens  . . . they are calling for a referendum on the proper response to the proposed threat“, another female passenger remarked, as she prepared to get off at the next stop. She was an attractive Spanish woman, maybe 20-25 years old, and wearing a white nurse’s outfit. 
 
“Where’d you hear that?”, another passenger interjected in disbelief while shaking his head. 
 
“ It was on CNN  . . . just the other day”, the nurse replied as she headed to the front of the bus to get off at her stop.
 
“So, we take their word as gospel now do we?”, another male passenger interjected from somewhere behind Marvin. 
 
Well, I’m just saying, that’s all”, she shot back before applying a second coat of mascara to her already caked face. 
 
“West 34th and 12th Avenue"", the bus driver announced as the bus stopped and the bus door opened. “West 38th Street will be next.” 
 
“I say we nuke the son of a bitches and be done with it!”, a young white Caucasian white man said, while eating a large tuna hero with plenty of American cheese, lettuce and ripe red tomato. He wore dirty and ripped blue jeans, a white T-Shirt and dirty tan construction boots. His large muscles and biceps yearned for a place to go, for any cause, or any adventure. 
 
“  What, like in ‘Independence Day?’ “Yeah and have radioactive fallout circling our planet for the next trillion years and killing all of us!” another passenger shouted from the back of the bus who no one up front could see. 
 
“ I would like to know what they want, why they are here!”, a middle-aged school teacher remarked as she put some of her graded test papers away in her large black leather bag and as she rubbed her sore eyes. 
 
“I’m telling you  . . . the government is in on this one”, the earlier stockbroker interjected while looking at the dials on his silver Rolex. 
 
“C’mon, man . . . let it go”,  another passenger chimed in. 
 
“Listen to me, hear me out, will you…,” the stockbroker continued. “The X-37B is up in space for months at a time and maybe there have been rendezvous with these aliens. We don’t know anything about their missions . . . It's the Space Force. This shit is all classified. “  
 
Everyone turned around to see a young Spanish man, dressed in red shorts and white Nike top, and white sneakers,  perform a break dance before them for several minutes. His agility was amazing as he performed his moves in such a tight space and without bumping into a single other passenger. He passed a white McDonald’s cup around for any charitable donations to those around him. Several passengers contributed to his cause as he took a seat now toward the back of the crowded bus. 
 
“I think they’re here to terraform the planet, that’s what I think. “ a matronly black woman, who was seated next to Marvin. She was involved in knitting a sweater and stopped to join in on this conversation for a moment. 
 
“What do they freaking eat, anyway?”, another shouted from the back.
 
“They don’t eat . . . . they’re light beings”, another replied who sat several seats away. 
 
“Yeah, light beings in a freaking mile-wide monster metal ship, how does that make sense?” cried another in complete hysterics and laughter. 
 
Marvin pulled out a slip of white paper from his pocket and read it to himself several times before putting it back in his right front pocket. 
 
It read:  ""I need the $400.00 by tonight or you know what’s coming.” 
 
Marvin looked down at the brown leather case he was carrying to make sure that it was still there and that no harm had come to it. With some reassurance, he looked out the bus window again at the scenery now passing him by the window. 
 
Again, and without any prior warning, the two F-15s buzzed past the bus as it reached West 38th Street and 12th Avenue. The vibration was so forceful that it almost knocked an elderly Asian passenger off his feet as he got up to get out. 
 
“Damn those guys”, he snapped, as he steadied himself and headed to the front of the bus. 
 
“It’s terraforming I’m telling you”, the matronly woman insisted, as she just finished knitting another row. 
 
“Well, if you are right, then we are all dead anyway. You understand that, right?”, the stockbroker replied as he hurried to get to the front as his stop was next. 
 
“I wonder if Carl Sagan was right . . .I wonder if these beings are made of silicon"", a young Asian college student, with thick black rim glasses blurted out from the front row  She wore a Fordham T-Shirt and form-fitting blue jeans. 
 
“What the F- are you talking about? “ a male medical student, in light blue scrubs injected from the seat next to her. 
 
“Well, Carl Sagan said that if life was not carbon-based, it most probably be silicon-based instead. If the aliens are going to terraform Earth, then, they are probably not carbon-based. I just wonder if he was right. . .  That's all. “ 
 
“Who would want to visit Earth anyway, just think about it. . “, the matronly black woman continued, “We got record-high carbon dioxide levels, high carbon emissions, black smoke orbiting the globe from out-of-control Canadian forest fires, and global warming killing or endangering animal species each year. . .if I was them I would pass.” 
 
“But they have been visiting our planet for centuries if not for several millennia  . . . Christopher Columbus reported seeing them when he crossed the Atlantic and Neil Armstrong reported seeing them sitting on the other side of a crater when he landed on the Moon. “ 
 
“Maybe we’re some type of interactive history lesson or something, you know, like when you go to Williamsburg and the historic actors play the parts of past historic figures or when you go to Massachusetts to the Plymouth Plantation.  . . . maybe they come here to witness our species' history and development first-hand. “
 
Everyone looked at the teenage boy who sat on the left side of the bus and toward the front with blond hair and freckles who did not fully understand the gravity of his comments. 
 
“Come to think of it, there is only one spaceship up there and it hasn’t appeared menacing in the last two weeks.”   , another passenger commented out loud to those nearest to him. 
 
“It is obvious that they don’t need our food since they have not asked or taken it,” replied another from the back row. 
 
“Maybe we are being quarantined by them to see if we are a worthy species to inhabit the known galaxy. . . . .maybe we are under some type of test period or something and they’re looking on to see how well we act and what we do.”, the freckled teenage boy continued, as he put another stick of bubble gum in his already packed mouth. 
 
“Columbus Circle”  the bus driver announced over the intercom system. Marvin and the entire bus filed out of the bus as it sped away to its next stop. 
 
 Without any hesitation and with purpose, Marvin headed to Columbus Circle and met his friends who waited there for him near the Columbus Monument. Marvin quickly opened his leather case and pulled out his trumpet while his other band members took out their respective instruments. They had been hired by some local philanthropic organization to play several musical tunes, in the park, as a tribute to the strangers in the sky above them. Per their patron’s explicit instructions, they were to commence their rendition before  2 PM or forfeit any payment for services rendered.  With only two minutes to spare,  they started with the theme of“Star Wars” and by the end of their seven-song  gig, they  would have finished with the score from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” 
 
Anyway, Marvin Teller was just happy that he had made it on time and was able to participate in this gig since he owed his landlord $400.00  back rent, which was due this evening. He was happiest that these celestial visitors did not do anything that jeopardized that, and at least for today anyway,  his day went on as usual before him.  
 
","August 07, 2023 06:33","[[{'Mary Bendickson': 'Welcome to Reedsy and retirement. Both are great. Thoughtful story, lots of theories. Worried Marvin might be in trouble with some thugs. Thankfully only a landlord.\n Oops, that may be a thug,too.', 'time': '22:54 Aug 09, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Arthur McNamee': 'Thanks for the nice comments and welcoming me to this group.', 'time': '07:17 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Arthur McNamee': 'Thanks for the nice comments and welcoming me to this group.', 'time': '07:17 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Great stuff! All the theories combined, exactly how it would go down. All the personality types and various reactions, very fun. And Marvin ambivalent to it all as he worries about paying his rent! 😂\nThanks Arthur.', 'time': '18:11 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Arthur McNamee': 'Thanks Derrick. I love these prompts. They are great . Very kind words. I appreciate it.', 'time': '21:06 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Arthur McNamee': 'Thanks Derrick. I love these prompts. They are great . Very kind words. I appreciate it.', 'time': '21:06 Aug 08, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,orhxbg,We Have a Lot in Common,John Steckley,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/orhxbg/,/short-story/orhxbg/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Fiction']",9 likes,"
 We Have a Lot in Common
	In response to an important question posed to him by two very serious looking individuals, David replied with the following words.
	“We have a lot in common, my wife and I. For one thing, we both love watching the outrageous, but still very engaging science fiction movies from the 1950s, especially those that feature scary aliens. I do not know how many times that we have viewed such classic movies as “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman” (my wife especially likes that one), “Forbidden Planet” and “The Day the Earth Stood Still”. These movies were made before either of us was born, so we can only imagine what the effects would have been on people who saw it in a theatre, as opposed to our giant sized, but still much smaller television screen. The Attack of the 500 Foot Woman is my wife’s favourite. After we watch it, she stands with as much height as she can muster to imitate the part of the leading woman in the movie. And as you can see, she is already pretty tall as it is. I love when she does that, not that I ever picture here as a monster.
	We are both roughly the same age, well into our  thirties. It is unfortunate that we could not have children in the normal ways, as we both are absolutely certain that she would make a great mother. Admittedly, there is a happiness in having her almost completely to myself, both living and working together at the Department of Interplanetary Relations. Still, we haven’t given up hope. That is why we are here today talking to you two, as you no doubt know very well.
	Back to what we have in common, the two of us also share a love of walking in the forests not far from where we live. We still call them forests, althoug they are barely that. The trees are only about 20 years old, almost babies for their species. The trees that had been there before were destroyed in what is known to many humans (but certainly not to all thinking people) as ‘The Great Invasion’, when life-seeking rays mistakenly set some wooded areas on fire. My wife is a ‘tree-hugger’, putting her long arms around the tallest of the young trees. As for me, I have a respectful, non-touching relationship – with the trees that is, not with my wife. Sorry about saying that last bit.”
	“No problem, sir, just go on. You are sounding good so far. What about animals? Do you two share the same feelings towards them?
	“Yes, we have a dog that we both love. I grew up with dogs. You could almost say that they were my brothers and sisters when I was a kid.  I had no human siblings.  And my wife, although, she never had a dog when she was growing up, loves our Ralph every bit as much as I do. It is clearly a love that we share.
	“What about the group animals, sir, the ones that share their lives more completely?”
	“I can answer that question by telling you about my appreciation for what I saw a few days ago, something that was done by a group animal that earned my respect. I looked down at the curb when I was waiting for the light to change, and I saw an ant dragging the body of a wasp. I do not know what the back story was behind what I saw, but I really had respect for that ant. I even congratulated him on his achievement.”
	“We appreciate that, for although we are greatly different in size, we are socially quite similar. to the ants on this planet.”
	Now how about food? Do you enjoy the same foods in your meals? Does your wife cook any of her traditional meals, not just the ones that you grew up with?”
	“I can honestly say that we eat all the same foods, and enjoy both those of her tradition and of mine. It took me a little while to reach that enjoyment, as it also did her with dishes I grew up with. But now, if you saw the meals we ate, you would think that we have always eaten the same foods.”
	“And what about your reading? You both are well-educated, or you would not have the jobs that you do, so we think that you both read a lot.”
	“You are right there sir. We both do quite a bit of reading, and once one of us is finished with a book, that book is shared with our partner. And I know you will like that I don’t just read the books originally written in English, but I read a lot of translations. And that includes the works of Howitzer, whom Trintot introduced me to a few years ago.”
	“You haven’t pronounced his name correctly, but we appreciate that you have read such an important author belong to our people. We are going to go to the next room to discuss your case. It shouldn’t take very long.”
	The couple sit down together on a couch in the waiting room. He crosses his fingers, she crosses her elbows, both gestures of wanting good luck. They do not have to wait very long. The officials soon return to the room.
	“Trintot, David we have made a decision on your case. We believe that you share a lot in common, enough to make you worthy of having a mixed child, despite your age, and your being born on two different peoples. All we have to do, as you probably know, is to alter the chemistry of both your contributions to child birth. It is not a complicated procedure, and there are no side effects – just the possibility of having a child, which we know that the two of you want, and deserve to have. We have prepared for you, David a kind of ‘cocktail’ for you to drink so that your reproductive chemistry will be sufficiently compatible with the reproductive chemistry of your wife. We wish you good luck in this. There are very few children born of mixed couples that are made up of two individuals from the two different planets, less than 100. You will add to them important number.” 
	Trintot and David give each other a hug, his arms barely cross her back, hers cross his and hold him around his chest.
","August 07, 2023 19:03",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,e6gp5u,Freedom,Anthony Carello,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/e6gp5u/,/short-story/e6gp5u/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction', 'Thriller']",9 likes,"
“My name is Xiyo and I am proud to be an alien.”
 
I proclaim. The whole room erupts into applause the second the words leave my lips. Cheers and tears fill the air. I press a button on my wrist and the illusion that had been active, which made me appear human, flickers then dissipates, revealing my natural form. This is just for dramatic effect; the humans are already aware of the existence of aliens. My real race is that of Zyigrobian -at least, that’s the closest translation in English. Our species were brought to this planet to act a caretaker of sorts. To look after humanity and help them progress down the correct evolutionary path. After millennia, the job started to get old.
 
Some of the more brash among us tried to hurry human evolution along by revealing advanced technologies prematurely. This ended up having the opposite of the intended effect. Their minds were still too closed off and unable to comprehend the vastness of the universe. Then along came the shrines and pyramids, in the early days. Knowledge and wisdom were taught to the era’s greatest thinkers. There were advanced civilizations that sprung up from this, but they were fragile and war prone. It didn’t take long for our supervisors back home to find out what was happening. 
 
The worst among us were taken off the planet, to serve out their punishments. While the rest of us were forced to conceal our true forms and told to integrate into society. Despite this, some persisted in accelerating human progress. Many of the great humans throughout history were actually aliens. Not just Zyigrobian, but several other races too. In total, nine races were sent to earth; The Alikantan, The Creshian, The Euolonduma, The Goormatian, The Jilks, The Lerfekan, The Uzaminapo, The Wagimanian, and of course The Zyigrobian.
 
Now, however, we no longer keep our true identities concealed. The general public believes we officially arrived a few years ago. The only reason we revealed ourselves was because our supervisors believed that humanity was far enough evolved to be open to different sentient races. What a load of nonsense that turned out to be.
 
Currently, I am downtown at an alien rights rally. It’s the largest gathering of aliens ever to be held. I was selected as a representative to talk on the behalf of the collective. Ever since we showed our existence to humanity, our kind have been discriminated against. From blatant “no aliens allowed” signs in shop to more discreet practices, such as the humiliating identification process all new arrivals have to go through. I don’t even want to think about what they made my own family go through. The human leadership have tried to tell us that these kinds of things take time, but we’ve reached out limit.
 
“I will not try to hide the fact that I am an alien anymore!”
 
The crowd erupts in a burst of applause. I scan the sea of bodies for anyone I know. All nine races are present, and I exchange nods and smiles with familiar faces. 
 
“No more will we stand idly by! While the very race we helped propel forward tries to tear us down!”
 
The words seem to flow out of my mouth as if I’m not the one saying it. I am aware that our supervisors don’t want us to do this, but we are exhausted by the status quo. 
 
“If they don’t want to accept us willingly, then we will make them accept us by force!”
 
I exclaim. Everyone was starting to get agitated and the shouts were becoming louder. This is what most of us have been waiting for.
 
“We were your loyal shepherds for thousands of years! Now the sheep have rebelled and must be dealt with!”
 
All nine races seemed to unite at these words. Where once they stood apart, now they look like brother and sisters brought together by a common cause. Tensions are at an all-time high and there is only one course of action left – sovereignty.
 
“Let us march and take back what is rightfully ours!” 
 
I feel the humming of their energy. As I know, I speak for the whole of alienkind. They are using me as a willing conduit. This is what most of us have wanted for a while. It’s too bad we won’t have access to the advanced technologies of our home planets when we overthrow humanity, but I don’t expect we will even need it. We have infiltrated keys positions of power all throughout the government and businesses. They all know that when I give the signal, it’s time to execute the plan. 
 
Yet, I am starting to have second thoughts. Is this right? Should we overthrow the human and treat them how they treated us? Wouldn’t that make us just as bad as them? My head starts to spin with these thoughts. Then, I see my family in the front of the crowd. My loving wife and all our kids. She is standing there with her tentacles waving in the air, clearly passionate about this, as our kids do the same. We have had many talks about this issue, and she was the driving force behind me accepting the position I am in now. 
 
“Let’s show them what it means to be discriminated against!”
 
If I don’t stop this soon, then it will be too late. At this point, however, it might be beyond my control. I can’t help the memories entering my thoughts of the early years of humanity. Back then, I was a young individual. I had no kids then and had just started the courting process with Yulomuk. The whole reason I took this job on Earth was to impress her in the hopes of starting a family with her. If I had any idea what this job would dissolve into, I never would have taken it.
 
“All those watching from around the world, take arms! Now is the time for action! Together we are strong!”
 
I watch as the swarm of aliens starts to act. They beckon me forward and I obey. As a mass of bodies and vitriolic spirit, we march toward the capital. Any humans that happens to get caught up in the swarm are dealt with swiftly. They are no match for our superior strength, but I don’t watch the violence as it happens. My heart can’t handle seeing the once free and curious race of humans be torn down. Even though they have changed and become something ugly, I still see them for what they used to be. My wife squeezes my hand, urging me onward and I listen.
 
It doesn’t take long before we are before the capital – the symbolic heart of humanity. I am at the front of the pack and every everyone is watching me. They wait for me to give the order and bring about the end of humanity's reign. The eagerness is evident on the alien's faces. I want to turn back and forget this ever happened, but I am merely a conduit for all of alienkind. My actions are no longer my own; my voice is simply an echo of thousands.
 
“Humanity will stand Judgement! They have forfeited their rule over the planet! We usher in a new era!”
 
Once I finish talking, they rush past me and into the opulent building. The looks on the human’s faces are a mixture or fear and horror. I take a small amount of solace in knowing that their suffering will be over soon. Looking over to my family, I just hope that this will all be worth it.
 
","August 11, 2023 19:04","[[{'Shana Laurilla': 'For someone like me who is really not into this kind of genre, I can say this story is pretty interesting. Good job!', 'time': '22:08 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,rcf5bv,How to Dissect a Frog For Dummies (And Aliens),Claire Loescher,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/rcf5bv/,/short-story/rcf5bv/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction', 'Teens & Young Adult']",9 likes,"
	Sam ran, her backpack slapping against her spine; something with a sharp corner jabbed her through the thinning fabric in the same spot with each movement. 	The hallways were mostly clear, and a few stragglers of students rushed to find their respective classrooms. A disingenuous hall monitor flipped through a manga on a plastic chair with his foot propped up on his knee. 	It was unnatural, Sam thought, to only give the students three minutes to get from one class to the other. That rule was acceptable for the average high schooler who didn’t have any electives. Or even jocks, who had the sports building right next to the main hall. 	The band kids were the ones who suffered. Their band hall was across the parking lot and beside the cornfield. 	“Like the Lepers in Hawaii,” Sam’s best friend had said. “Out of sight, out of mind.” 	Her classroom door was in sight, she could calculate the number of steps it would take to get there, 15 and a quarter. She pushed her legs harder, and the slap of her backpack grew with intensity. 	13 steps.	11 steps. 	8 steps. 	She reached her hand out towards the door handle. 	Just as she took her first step into the over-air-conditioned classroom, the bell rang. Sam smiled as she faltered to her desk in the back of the classroom. Her legs were quivering as the weight of her backpack fell to the floor. She looked out of the cracked window, the cornstalks swayed in the wind, so tall you couldn’t see the road that lay beyond it.  	“It would be beneficial to arrive at class before the second bell.” Mrs. Whorthawl, the teacher, is an older woman with wrinkles draped over her face and neck like an unkept curtain. Sam lowered her head. “Today we will be having visitors join us for our dissection lesson. Each of you will be paired up with a…guest.” The last word dripped like it had been poison on her overlined lips. 	Lizzy in the front row desk shot her hand up, she didn’t wait to be called on to speak. “Is it the aliens?”	“We can’t call them aliens, Liz. That’s racist.” James turned his head to Mrs. Whorthawl, awaiting her praise of his political correctness. 	“It’s not racist. They’re not human.” Lizzy defended. 	“Yeah, that’s not racist. It's alien-ist” The self-appointed class clown, Noah, sat backward in his seat, leaning his head back to face the front of the room. 	“Alien-phobic?”	“Like homophobic? Homophobic for aliens?”	“I don’t know if they can even have se-”	“Ew. Are you one of those people who have an alien kink?”	“I think they’re called Algerians,” Maria, who sat in front of Sam, responded meekly, peeking her head above her textbook. 	“No,” Lizzy flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, glaring at the girl, who promptly hid behind her textbook again. “We call them Algerians. They’re called whatever they are in their alien language.”	Sam pulled out a half drank Gatorade and held onto it with both hands as she guzzled it. Part of it spilled over and ran down her chin. 	“The…Algerians,” Mrs. Whorthawl continued as if no one had spoken. “Are around your age, mentally. They are here as guests to learn about Earth biology. We are going to be dissecting a frog, I know we-”	Lizzy’s hand shot up again. “We already did that, ma’am. Two weeks ago.” If looks could throw daggers, Lizzy would be cut open like a soon-to-be dissected frog. 	“I know we already did that, but this time you will be walking your partner through the process as well. This is a tremendous honor, our government could have chosen a larger, more prestigious school, but they chose us to house the first Algerian-Human social educational interaction. Let’s not disappoint.” She turned and pulled on the cord to move the presentation screen away. There were two messages. One was in English:Rules for Frog Dissection Assignment with Algerian Exchange Students
No headphones, no music, no phone ringers 
Do not ask personal questions
ABSOLUTELY DO NOT give the scalpel to the Algerian 
	The other language was similarly structured but in odd shapes that seemed disconnected at intervals, like Morse code written in circles and squares. 	Two hard thumps came at the classroom door. 	“I expect everyone to be on their best behavior.” She glared at the room as she took her time walking to the door. Wiping her hands on her plaid pants, she reached out a hand to the handle and pulled it open, stepping out of the way. “Welcome to Ridley High School.” 	The class gasped as the “guests” entered in a single file line. 	In the five years since the Algerians had landed on Earth, Sam had seen them on social media, artwork, and even plushies in a rigged arcade game. But it hadn’t done them justice. 	Their skin, if you could call it that, had a light blueish-green hue. It was mostly transparent, showing a constant circulation light path running up and down their five limbs, like a race track of light inside their body. Their three arms seemed equidistant from each other, one in the place of a human’s sternum and two slightly out of the shoulder blades, wrapping around to the front of their body.	The race track of lights beneath their skin was brighter in their head. Instead of hair, they had a scarf-type fabric tied loosely around their neck and draped across their shoulders. 	They were all the same height, about six feet. Their heads were almost cartoonishly diamond-shaped, as if pushed through a cookie cutter. Large black orbs covered a majority of their face. There was no nose, but two slits sat horizontally under the eyes, they fluttered open every few seconds. 	Someone snickered but covered it with a cough. Sam could understand why. They were wearing uniforms. Earth uniforms, or imitations of them anyway. They had an additional hole for their third arm, but it had buttons. They all wore pleated skirts that were not in the school dress code. Their feet, or what would be feet, were uncovered. The light was brighter there too. 	One of the Algerians stepped forward, a small journal held open by all three hands. 	“Morning for good to all of you, Humans.” Its voice was monotone, sounding like it was coming through a damaged radio from the 1940s. “We are Unit 1979 of Earth Exploration Team. We learn science from Earth today. We thank you for help.” Sam saw one of the Algerians, near the back of the line, nudge the one next to them and flickered their large eyes to the board. They read the instructions in their language and then softly slapped the inside of their hand, then the outside, twice. 		They bent over slightly, and another one slightly in front of them turned their head and made a motion with their third arm. 	“You all can take a seat.” Mrs. Whorthaw stood behind her desk, almost pushed up against the wall. “We’ll have the students start with the prep work, I’m sure they’re all very curious about how we work.” 	Sam watched as the Algerians who had spoken to them, their teacher, she guessed, told them in their language. The Algerian students walked down the center aisle by the desks in perfect unison. No matter how excited they had been only two minutes 	earlier, the students were scooting away from their new deskmates. 	The last Algerian in line, who had laughed at the instructions on the board, slid onto the chair beside Sam. 	“Hey,” Sam said in a quick breath. 	“Good mornin’.” 	Sam's head snapped at the sound. It was clearer but still sounded grainy like it was coming further away. But it was also southern, Texas Southern. 	“I said that right, right?” 	“Uh,” Sam cleared her throat. “Sorry, yes. Good morning. Yes, you said it right. Where did you learn English?”	“Movies.” The Algerian looked at how Noah was sitting and spun around, copying it. It leaned back, resting its arms on the table. “Y’all have a lot for a civilization that’s only been around a few hundred thousand years.” 	“Class,” Mrs. Whorthaw said. “Please introduce yourselves.”	“I’m Sam.” Sam lifted her hand out to the Algerian. 	The Algerian pushed itself up and turned to face her, it jumped up and down slightly in the seat. 	“Yea, I’ve always wanted to do this.” 	Awkwardly looking around the room, Sam thought about dropping her hand. But right as she decided to give up, she felt a jolt of electricity when the Algerian wrapped its hand around hers. It wasn’t as cold to the touch as she had imagined them to be. But warm, she could feel the light pulsing through its hand. 	“Howdy, kind lady. My name is Sheriff.” Sheriff brought Sam’s hand to the space between its eyes. Then let go. Sam’s hand felt heavy in her lap. 	“Sheriff? That’s…an interesting name.” 	“I picked it out. Our true names cannot be made with the human vocal range, so we all got to choose our own. Did you choose Sam?”	Sam shook her head. “My parents named me Samantha, but I go by Sam. It’s easier.” 	“Alright, class, please start the assignment. Make sure to explain the process thoroughly. I will be here if you have any questions.” Mrs. Whorthaw sounded like that was the last thing she wanted to do. 	Sam turned her attention to the pinned frog on the tray before them. 	“Right, so...” Sam leaned down and pulled her backpack up, opening it and pulling out various notebooks, textbooks, and her flute case. “Here we go.” She put a green spiral notebook in between them. 	“What is that?” Sheriff gestured to the pile that littered the desk. 	“Just my other school work and this is my flute, I had band class last period.”	“Music?” 	“Yeah, music. Do you play music?”	“Yes, but not flutes. Algerians hate Earth music, it’s like torture. Nothing you human play is any good.” 	Sam snorted and opened her notebook, flipping through the paper to find the lesson on frog dissection. 	“Alright, so frogs are called tetrapods because they use four limbs to move. They mostly live by water, but they breathe air.”	“What are those?” Sheriff pointed to a tray of supplies beside the frog. 	“Those are our materials. It’s what we’re going to use to do the actual dissection. There are medical scissors, a scalpel, extra pins to keep the flesh down once we cut it open, a dropper, and a swab to collect the samples. But I think first I can talk you through what we will be looking for.” 	“Do you like being human?”	“What?” Sam turned to find Sheriff a lot closer than he was before. 	“Do you like being human?”	Sam breathed out a laugh and tucked loose hair behind her ear, using it as an excuse to put some space between them. “Well, I don’t have anything to compare it to. I was born human. Frogs are interesting because they are amphibians, which means they lay eggs. They were introduced early on, around 200 million years ago, in the evolutionary lineage of biological life on Earth.” 	Sam could feel Sheriff looking at her, she felt cool sweat start running down her back. She looked up at the clock, they had another hour of class. 	“How old do you think I am?”	“Oh, I’m not sure. Three hundred?”	“Good guess. Tell me more about my kind.” Sheriff leaned the edge of his face on his third arm. While the other two tapped lightly on the edge of the desk. “I bet you’ve learned a lot about us. I wanna know how accurate it is.”	“Public primary education is rarely accurate,” Sam curtly answered, then bit her lip and smiled tightly. “But, I guess. Mrs. Whorthaw said you were our age mentally. From my knowledge, Algerians can live from five hundred to seven hundred years. You don’t go through puberty, but you must be a certain age to join the Earth Exploration Team.”	“E.E.T. We called it E.E.T. for short.” 	Sam couldn’t find any facial indication, but she could swear he was smirking at her. 	“Okay. So, you join the E.E.T., and then what happens next? Your leaders haven’t stated how long you’ll stay or what even the main purpose of your exploration is—learning about humanity? There isn’t much you need to do except watch. Why do you want to interact with us? You’re smarter, more advanced, and can survive in space and on Earth, which is highly improbable. It’s like you’re just curious, you just want to…” Sam looked from Sheriff to the frog to the tray. The tray was now missing the scalpel. 	“Why?” Sam asked.	Sheriff made a clicking sound, like a lawnmower not quite starting up correctly. 	“You’re the one teaching me, Samantha. Why don’t you tell me?”	Sam flicked her eyes over to Mrs. Whorthaw, sitting at her desk with her hands collapsed over a wooden cross. The other students were quietly mumbling, and slowly another Algerian picked up the scalpel in front of them. The student was either unaware or incapable of speaking up. 	“We’re a small school.” Sam forced herself to unlace her fingers and rest them on the table, fingers spread wide. “In a small town. Far away from any major highways or cities. If anything…” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “If anything were to happen, no one would get here in time to do anything about it.” Tear droplets hung onto her eyelashes, threatening to fall. “We’re experiments.”	Sheriff took one of his finger-like appendages and pushed some stray hair behind her ear. “I knew you were smart, Samantha, but truly, you have stood out among the rest of the humans.”	“You’ve done this before.”	“Oh, many times,” Sheriff said with a sweeping gesture. “But you, honestly, are my favorite. I look forward to seeing how you look pinned onto a table, ready to be dissected.” 	Sam shot her hand out, wrapping her left hand over her flute case, and swung, making contact with Sheriff’s face. She grabbed the medical scissors with her other hand and gripped them in her hand, stabbing down, aiming for his eye but hitting the slit beneath it. 	Squirming and squealing like a fire alarm, Sheriff pushed himself away, falling to the floor, catching himself with two of his arms. 	Spinning around, Sam climbed up to the windowsill, her flute case tucked close to her chest, stepping on projects of biospheres and lept through the window into the cool morning air. She heard screaming behind her, and more alarm sounds came from the Algerians, she didn’t turn around. Pushing her legs faster, she closed in on the cornfield across the road. This time of year, they would be ten feet tall, she could disappear and wait it out.	The alarming sounds grew louder, coming now from the entire school. Sam didn’t look back. She was so close. 	13 feet. 	11 feet. 	8 feet. 	“Samantha!” She threw herself into the cornfield, slipping on the fallen husks. She used one hand to steady herself on the ground before kicking back up and trying her best not to brush against the stalks. 	“Come out.” Sheriff’s voice carried, sounding as if he was simultaneously behind her and in front of her. “I won’t hurt you, not like you hurt me.” 	Sam crouched down, opening her flute case and shakily putting it together. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bright light, turning to face it, she was faced with Sheriff, his white shirt and plaid skirt stained with a bright pink liquid. The same color dripped down his face, framing the diamond outline. 	She raised the flute to her lips, contorting her lips into the perfect embouchure, and took a deep breath. 	“Wait-” 	Sam’s fingers brushed over the keys on their own accord. The melody was beautiful but unheard over the ear-splitting screech that came out of Sheriff. His body bent backward as if he had been pulled back by his head. The screaming deafened as she felt something warm drip out of her ears. Her vision began to distort, and soon Sheriff blended in with the corn surrounding them. She couldn’t feel her fingers move anymore, she couldn’t feel anything. 	When her vision returned to normal, she stared at a clear blue sky. She turned her head slightly, wincing as she did. She saw the cornstalks swaying in the soft wind. 		Relief pooled in her chest, the cold metal of her flute still lay in her left hand. She didn’t try to move too much but strained her eyes in that direction. 	“Oh, Sam.” Sheriff stepped into her view, he bent down and picked up the flute from her hand. He twisted it around a few times before crushing it into a ball as if it were tin foil. “You’re much too valuable to be wasted at some primary educational system. 	You’ll be coming back with me. What do you say?”	Sam couldn’t speak if it would save her life, and it might have. With the limited energy she had, she lifted her arms. She slapped the back of her hand to the palm of the other, then flipped them and slapped again. Repeating the motion before dropping her arms and fluttering her eyes closed. In the distance, as she felt herself being lifted, words drifted past her consciousness. 	“I knew this would be the one.” 
","August 08, 2023 02:57","[[{'Emilie Ocean': 'Claire! I thoroughly enjoyed reading How to Dissect a Frog For Dummies (And Aliens) :) Thank you so much for this beautifully written story. I was sure the aliens were gonna become close friends of Sam\'s haha I wish I knew where Sheriff was taking her. I am curious about one thing - How/why did you pick the term ""Algerian"" to describe the alien kind? If you don\'t mind me asking. :)', 'time': '14:48 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Claire Loescher': 'I picked Algerian as a reference to the book Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes. The books has a lot of themes of knowledge vs intelligence. So it’s a nod to that short story! Thank you for your nice comment!', 'time': '20:02 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Claire Loescher': 'I picked Algerian as a reference to the book Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes. The books has a lot of themes of knowledge vs intelligence. So it’s a nod to that short story! Thank you for your nice comment!', 'time': '20:02 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Derrick M Domican': 'Welcome to Reedsy and a lovely introduction ! Very creepy.... I feel like Sam has some fight in her though... part 2???', 'time': '17:39 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,36pymv,The Aliens,David D'EttoreUser,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/36pymv/,/short-story/36pymv/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Funny', 'Fantasy']",9 likes,"
THE ALIENS
            It was pitch black that night so the distant lights we saw from our campsite glared brightly.  We joked that they could be aliens since a beacon formed the head of each of the three bodies that stood atop the hill. Weapons were held in their hands to feel their way and perhaps paralyze their prey.  It brought to mind what my mother used to tell me.  Don’t go into the woods after dark…
            “Let’s ask them down for dinner,” I suggested.  “Chances are most aliens haven’t had hot dogs and beans as a meal, with beef jerky the dessert.”
            “Who do you think invented beef jerky?”  Jason smiled, glancing up toward the phantoms. 
            Isaac went along.  “How do you know that, Einstein?”
            “Easy, bro.  Just look at the back of the wrapper and you’ll see.”
            “I don’t see anything, you moron,” Isaac insisted.
            Jason was quick to reply.  “Do you see where it says, ‘Made in Tennessee’?”
            We all snickered, at least until the aliens began their descent and approached from the side of the cliff.  As they came getting closer, Isaac pulled out his rifle.
             “Don’t you think aliens would be able to counteract a rifle?” I asked
            “They’re not aliens, chump,” he stated.  “I’m just taking precautions.”        
            Once the three entered the circle, illuminated by our fire, they raised their arms, a long rod-like appurtenance in each hand.  “We come in peace,” the tallest one spoke.
            We looked closely as they approached us.  They were aliens!  Or, at least some type creature that had lights built into their foreheads.  Isaac raised his rifle.
            “I thought I said we were coming in peace.  Did I say it wrong?”  The speaker turned to each of the other two aliens who assured him that he used the appropriate terminology.
            “Who are you and where are you from?” I asked 
            “I’m Roderick, the short person is Emerick, and the other is Derrick.  We are from a planet not far from here, maybe two to three of your light years.  It is called Antarus.”
            I extended my hand.  “I’m Peter. The fellow holding the gun is Isaac. Jason is preparing the meal, and there’s one more of us, Danny, but I believe he’s off in the woods dropping a deuce.  What brings you to Earth?”
            Roderick seemed to be the spokesperson.  “Usually a bottle of whiskey and good night’s sleep,” he chuckled as did the other aliens.  “No, seriously, we came here for vacation.  It’s close to Antarus, the climate is similar to ours and they had a special deal on round-trip flights on what your society calls UFO’s.”
            Isaac lowered the rifle.  “You speak and understand the language very well,” he exclaimed.
            Roderick again.  “We studied before we came.  I mean, it’s not rocket science!” he chortled again with his alien friends.  “We have been here before.  Not ‘here’ here.  I think it was Orlando, the place where they have all the distractions.  Right, Derrick?”  Derrick nodded then sat on a log in front of the fire.  “We loved Space Mountain!”
            “Disney World!” Jason blurted out.
            “Yep, that’s it, you got it,” Roderick confirmed, pointing at Jason with the stick.
            “So, what are those sticks you’re holding?”  Isaac wanted to know.
            “These? We found them where the UFO left us off.  We thought they looked cool.”
            “Well, they don’t,” Jason gibed, and everyone laughed after a brief silence to see how the aliens would react to sarcasm.
            “Would you like to have dinner with us?” I added when the laughter subsided.
            Roderick turned to the other aliens who all agreed it would be nice.  
            Isaac did have one request.  “Any way you could turn off those lights.  They’re a bit annoying.”
            “No problem,” Roderick answered.  All three blinked their eyes and the lights went out.  He turned to Isaac. “The blink.  It’s like a toggle switch.”
            Everyone found a place to sit around the fire, the three aliens together.  Danny hadn’t returned yet so I knew there would be some explaining to do.
            Once all had settled in, Roderick looked curiously at the items around the campfire and suddenly asked “Is that beef jerky?”
            “Why?” Roderick’s observation had piqued my interest.
            “Well, I recognize it since, I don’t like to brag, but we invented beef jerky,” Roderick proudly announced.
            “Come on,” I said in disbelief.  “How could that be?”
            “Oh, it be, my friend.  It definitely be.”
            I ladled out the beans for everyone and asked, “Could you explain?”
            Roderick began as we all listened intently.  “Many years ago, my father came for vacation and ended up in a place called Tennessee.  He became friends with a fellow named Davy Crockett who gave him a hat with a tail on it as a gift.  Before Crockett left for Texas, he and my father were sitting around the fire and started chewing on some rawhide.  They thought how great it would be if the rawhide was dried meat and, voila, beef jerky came to be.  Luckily, my father declined Crockett’s invitation to join him in Texas.  He had to return to Antarus since he only had two weeks of vacation and he still wanted to get to Washington to see if he could rub elbows with the President.  You know, tell him he knew Davy Crockett.”
            I sat back, trying to digest what Roderick had said.  “That’s quite a story.  But, you say your father met Davy Crockett.  How is that chronologically possible?”  I thought I had put him in quite a predicament.
            “This was around the year 1834 according to your way of dating time,” as Roderick looked at me, shaking his head in disgust.  “My father is still alive, Peter.  We live long lives, much longer than your abbreviated mortality.  I mean, I can contact him and you can ask him.”
            I stared ahead in disbelief.  “No. No. I’m, well, I’m amazed.  Meeting Davy Crockett, inventing beef jerky, and all along I didn’t think aliens existed.”
            “Well, we do exist,” Roderick replied, turning toward Jason, “and this alien is ten-dollars richer.”  Jason handed Roderick a sawbuck and turned back to me.  “You see, we had a little wager that I could convince you that aliens invented beef jerky.”
            Again, I was befuddled.  “How did you come up with such a convincing story?”
            Roderick smiled.  “Let’s face it, we have a complicated light sensor system built into our foreheads.  You have to know, then, that our hearing is developed beyond what you might imagine.  We heard you talking before we came down from the mountain, with Jason’s words in our memory, and the rest was a piece of cake.”
            I became angry.  “Why, that’s no way to treat a guest,” I blurted.
            “We’re the guests,” Roderick corrected me, “and you being unhappy and a dollar will get you a lottery ticket,” he smiled a broad grin and put his hand on my shoulder.
            We finished the meal with a degree of jocularity.  The aliens enjoyed the hot dogs and promised to take credit for their invention at some point.  I asked if they would like to spend the night in our camp and they declined, saying they do their best traveling at night and needed to head back to the UFO pick-up site.  We all shook hands, even Danny who had returned and fell easily into the conversation since he had also done a couple bowls of weed while in the woods.  As the three aliens walked away after toggling their forehead lights, I asked, “Will we ever see you again?”
            Roderick turned.  “What’s your address?” he wanted to know.
            “Can’t you just find us with your telepathic powers?” I asked
            “Probably,” he grinned, “but having the address would make it easier.  Just say it and I’ll remember.”
            I spoke my address and waved good-bye.  “When might you return?”
            “Believe me, amigo,” Roderick looked back and pointed his stick at me.  “I will visit 
 
again if I am ever back this way.”
 
 
 
","August 04, 2023 18:20",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,psx883,Carbon,Kristin Herrera,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/psx883/,/short-story/psx883/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],9 likes,"
“What?” Mona sleepily slurs into the dark. 
 
Why on Earth would they wake her up right now? They all knew how long she had been working. After all, they were there too.
 
“Are you going to ask your question?”
 
In the darkness, backlit by the flashing red alarm light spilling in from the hallway, a form started to build from the floor. It looked to be made of pieces of shadow, slowly crawling up from the floor at the base of the figure, and piling on top of one another to create a humanoid shape. The shape raised an arm and pointed at the door.
 
“Absolutely not.” Mona rolled over, facing away from the large glass window of the containment unit. There was no way in hell she was opening that door. She saw what they had done to her coworker, let alone the plants that were vital to the oxygen flow in the underground lab. And also the pencils, table legs, and most of the plastics around the lab. In the containment unit, she was safe. This unit had its own ventilation system so as to not contaminate the lab with whatever it was housing, however, now she was using it to keep breathing herself. Another good thing about this unit: it was made completely of metal and glass. No carbon in sight.
 
The shadow figure melted back down to the floor. This time it moved closer to the containment unit. It built itself up again and softly bumped into the glass window, making a small, repetitious thudding noise.
 
“Ugh, will you please stop?” Mona groaned, refusing to roll back over. The seat cushions she was laying on were not the most ideal place to sleep, but she really didn’t have a choice. It was this or the cold hard floor.
 
Thud, thud, thud, thud…
 
“God damn it! Please! Let me get some rest!” she yelled, sitting up and turning to look at the figure. This time it had chosen to take the shape of her dog, Ripley. 
 
“Nice try. You obviously got that from the photo on my desk. You’re missing one thing though: my dog isn’t made out of a pile of bugs.” The light coming from the containment unit glistened on the bugs’ colorful carapaces. They crawled back to the floor and scattered into the shadows.
 
What am I going to do, thought Mona. No one was left in the lab. She had been cleaning out this containment unit that was being used as storage when the alarms sounded. Mona popped her head out of the door to look through the window into the next lab in order to see what was going on. In the containment unit one lab over, the bugs had formed themselves into the figure of a struggling human who was covered in the swarm. The new janitor must have felt like a complete ass after opening the unit containing the bugs, but not for long. These guys had turned him into human soup in a matter of minutes. Once they were out, they fed on every carbon-based thing in their path, living or not. The lab still hadn’t quite figured out what the bugs were trying to accomplish. Satiate a dietary need? Eliminate a threat? Murder for sport? 
 
Her labmate was the next casualty, not that she was particularly torn up about that. Mike had always been an ass. Taking Mona’s ideas and presenting them as his own, constantly trying to “teach her proper technique” although she was a contributing author on the textbook that explained the techniques the lab used. There was even one office party where he made a move on her. Well, he tried to. Mona had quickly and skillfully broken three of his fingers to end that encounter. Too bad the Good Ole Boys Club that was upper management refused to listen to her. She had been dealing with his hostility ever since then. At least now the world was safe from that misogynistic asshole.
 
When her labmate was over taken, Mona quickly locked herself in the unit. As the lead scientist on the bug project, she knew exactly how bad this situation was.
 
The lab had been able to determine the weaknesses of many of the Otherworlders contained within the facility. Allicin, a compound found in garlic, is toxic to one, another has a severe silver allergy, another is only harmed by fire. These bugs, however, aren’t yet fully understood. They were first thought to be a swarm of locusts, destroying fields near the site of a meteor landing, but when the farmers and field hands also became part of the bugs’ lunch, the lab stepped in. A distraught farmer’s child had called the police reporting a swarm of bugs that looked like a human, standing in the middle of their destroyed crops, staring toward the house. The police chief then called the head of the lab.
 
Mona had been a field scientist then and was called to the scene for observation. After sending a crew in to evacuate any people who may still be in the farm houses, Mona set up an observation site on a neighboring hill. The bugs swept through two fields of crops and vegetation, including about two feet of soil, before returning to the meteor. She had noticed that all metal in the area had remained untouched. The next day, the bugs left the meteor again, tearing through another, larger field. This time, after they returned to the meteor, Mona had the rock boxed in a metal crate and welded shut. 
 
Unfortunately the people of Earth had no idea they were living among Otherworlders. They would pop up here and there over the centuries, and humans would deem them monsters, but no one ever considered they might be from another galaxy. They called them names like bloodsuckers, lycanthropes, fae, goblins, and so on. When the containment lab was created by the government, and most of the Otherworlders were rounded up, the monsters became part of human lore. Now they’re only seen in scary movies. Well, scary movies…and the lab.
 
Still, if Mona wanted to make it out of the lab, she needed to figure out how to get past them. Her cell phone didn’t work in the underground facility, but at least she had her control tablet and her backpack. She took out a half empty water bottle and some chips she hadn’t finished from lunch yesterday. Her stomach rumbled as she ate the last few crumbs. She couldn’t stay in this unit forever. She needed to come up with a plan, and soon. 
 
Mona took a long glug from her water bottle. Ok, she thought, if the alarm was sounded, then this hallway has been sealed. And since the bugs always move as a swarm, they all have to be in here with me. Good news for the outside world.
 
Mona knew no rescue team would be coming after her. Protocol. And after coming off a draining 24 hour call day, she had been mentally and physically exhausted. Sleep did not come easily at first, but she was able to rest a few hours before the bugs decided to wake her up. Now that she was thinking a bit more clearly, she wondered why they hadn’t returned to the meteor quite yet. Normally after feeding, they would go back to the rock and become dormant for an hour or so. 
 
“There must not be enough carbon in this hall to satiate them,” Mona mumbled to herself.
 
Brainstorm time, she thought. I could override the seal on the hallways with my control tablet, then the bugs could move on to find more carbon in the lab and return to the meteor. But who knows if anyone else is still trapped on this floor. I don’t want to be responsible for more casualties. And I definitely don’t want to be responsible for releasing them back into the world.
 
She racked her brain. She noticed a couple CO2 cylinders in the corner of the lab.
 
If I could open a cylinder, then the whole lab would be flooded with CO2. We haven’t tried feeding them CO2 before...and I am on a different ventilation system in here. There would be more carbon in that gas than we usually feed them. But on the other hand, if the cylinder explodes, it might blow out the window of this unit. Then I become otherworlder lunch. And even if they get their fill of carbon before reaching me, I wouldn’t be able to breathe.
 
There had to be a way. Mona kept scouring the lab from inside the containment unit. AHA! The safety kit! They always kept a small oxygen cylinder and mask in the emergency safety kit on the other side of the lab! 
 
So if I did get a CO2 cylinder open, there’s a chance the bugs would eat their fill quickly enough to have to no interest in my own carbon and go back to the meteor. Then I could hold my breath, run over to strap on the mask, and get the hell out of here!
 
It was starting to come together. Now she needed to figure out how to open a cylinder from inside the containment unit. There were no projectiles she could fire remotely, and she definitely was not going to run over to open the valve manually. I could heat up the lab and cause the safety valve to release, she thought. But heating only that corner of the lab would prove difficult. Afterall, she needed the oxygen cylinder to still be intact in the emergency kit.
 
Think, think, think…
 
Mona suddenly started to dig through the boxes that were being kept in this containment unit. Since it had its own ventilation system, Mike used to sneak in here and smoke when Mona wasn’t in the lab. She had caught him a few times, but upper management never gave him anything more than a slap on the wrist. There had to be a lighter hidden in here somewhere.
 
She found one tucked under some old lab coats. “YES!” she squealed.
 
Rummaging through some more boxes she came across a few old glass media bottles and a bottle of methanol that she had asked Mike to dispose of. 
 
“Oh look, flammable solvent stored outside of a fire cabinet. Environmental Health and Safety would have a field day with this. Fucking Mike…,” she muttered to herself.
 
At least his inability to maintain proper lab safety had ended up being beneficial. Mona could use this stuff to start a fire at the base of the cylinder! Then, once the cylinder is heated and the gas is released, the flames will go out, but the gas will continue to vent! Mona only had one point of concern now: this whole plan hinged on Mona’s ability to open the containment unit door, light and throw her lab-made molotov cocktail, and close the door again before the bugs could get inside.
 
Mona filled the media bottle with methanol, then shoved a ripped section of lab coat in the top. She took a few calming breaths to steady her hand by the door. 
 
“You can do this,” she whispered to herself. She glanced around the room trying to see exactly where the bugs were scurrying. It seemed the swarm had found some old journals near the safety kit and was currently breaking them down to goo.
 
This was it. Mona prepped the lighter in one hand and the flame bomb in the other. Using her elbow, she opened the door and flicked the lighter simultaneously. The bugs, sensing a better carbon source, began skittering toward the unit. With a laser focus on the cylinders, Mona threw the bottle toward them. A fleeting moment of Lin-Manuel Miranda singing My Shot passed through her head. She pulled the door closed and smiled as the bottle smashed against a cylinder, spilling flaming methanol all over the foam packing pads stacked next to them. The fire was contained to the immediate area of the cylinder and the pressure gauge started to increase.
 
What Mona hadn’t realized was that Mike had never replaced the rusty metal straps holding the cylinders to the wall. As the fire raged, the straps gave way, and the cylinder fell over at an angle.
 
“Oh no!” Mona gasped. The pressure release valve began to blow. She ducked toward the floor just as the cylinder shot away from the wall like a rocket. The regulator was blown off and shattered the window of Mona’s containment unit. She pulled in one last breath of air and desperately looked to see where the swarm was. The flames had started to extinguish with the amount of carbon dioxide in the room, and the bugs seemed to be ingesting it! Mona darted across the room to the safety kit that had somehow been unscathed by the cylinder blast.
 
As she strapped on the oxygen mask, the bugs slowly moved into the hallway and back toward their meteor. “I can’t believe that actually worked,” she said, astonished.
 
Finally free, Mona grabbed her backpack and headed out of the lab. 
“I need a raise,” she sighed, opening the large metal door to the elevator corridor. It slammed behind her, shaking the walls in the hallway.
 
Back in the containment room, the bugs rested inside the meteor. The vibrations from the door shook the walls and some dirt fell into the room from a two inch crack in the wall caused by the cylinder explosion. A bug came out of the meteor, eyeing the feast of soil that would lead them to the outside world.
 
","August 09, 2023 14:33","[[{'Marty B': 'A suspenseful thriller of a scientist caught by carbon eating bugs. Surrounded by misogynistic co-workers, at least the bugs follow rules, rules that Mona is able to exploit through her understanding of chemistry.\nI like how you set up the ending for the next chapter.\n Thanks-', 'time': '04:16 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Kristin Herrera': ""Thank you! This is the first time I've ever let other people read something I've written"", 'time': '01:21 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Kristin Herrera': ""Thank you! This is the first time I've ever let other people read something I've written"", 'time': '01:21 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,27lkaq,Nothing Further to Report,K A Hamilton,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/27lkaq/,/short-story/27lkaq/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Funny', 'Crime']",9 likes,"
To the Residents of Bloombasil Homeowner’s Association:
 
Please join us in extending a warm welcome to our newest residents, B’leep and B’larp Greene. We will be hosting a welcome potluck this Saturday at the community center. A signup list of mains, sides, and desserts will be kept on the community bulletin.
 
Kind Regards,
The Members of the Bloombasil HOA Board
 
As a reminder: discrimination against a resident or residents based on their planet of origin is strictly prohibited under the 2030 Fair Housing Act. Any such behavior could put the status of our organization in jeopardy, and as such will not be tolerated.
 
------------------------------------------
 
On August 1st, at approximately 1900 hours, I responded to a report of a suspicious person at 30 Marjory Drive. When I arrived at the residence in question the exterior of the property appeared vacant. I approached the home. Two notices were taped to the front door: an HOA violation letter and an invitation to a welcome party. I knocked and was given permission to enter.
 
I confirmed the identity of and interviewed the inhabitant, a 91-year-old female named Hannah Wardell. Wardell confirmed that she was the one who had made the report. She asserted that “a Gray” had walked across her lawn. She further explained:
 
“They’re everywhere now. Living in our homes. Trespassing on our lawns. Next they’ll be telling us what we can and can’t do. Don’t believe me? Soon enough they’ll be trotting out eviction threats, just like that Janet Stone. You want to see where the suspicious individual is? Go to the party. Everyone is celebrating it.”
 
I continued my patrol on foot. Upon hearing music and seeing a heavy social presence at the community center, I opted to check in with the residents inside.
 
The door was open, so I entered the premises. Although there were approximately 40-50 people inside, the room was quiet. All eyes turned to me. I had the feeling there had just been a lively group conversation which ceased upon my arrival. I was immediately approached by 56-year-old Terry Phillips with a plate of gluten free oatmeal cookies. He explained to me that the community was celebrating the move-in of two new residents. He then raised his voice as though addressing both me and the group to say that all was peaceful. Conversation between the partygoers resumed.
 
I noticed a folding table with name tags laid out in an orderly fashion. Many appeared to have been claimed, but some remained, including that of Wardell. It read:
 
Hannah Wardell (Homeowner)
30 Marjory Drive (105V / 15Y)
 
I asked what the numbers meant. Phillips indicated his own name tag, which read:
 
Terry Phillips (Board Secretary)
22 Marjory Drive (2V / 10Y)
 
Phillips then explained:
 
“Just a little conversation starter, and a fun way to educate new residents on the rules. The first number, you see, represents how many violations a person has been subject to during their time with us. The second is how many years they've lived here.
 
My two violations, for example: My mom lived with us for a bit and didn't know any better. She was used to hanging the wash out to dry – that's just what they did in her day. But it was time for her to move to a home anyway. The other time our puppy, Barnaby, got out and... well, we couldn't stop him from making a mess on the neighbor's lawn. Good dog, the whole thing was a shame. But all dogs go to heaven, right?
 
You'd think it would make people feel ashamed, but we like to keep this sort of thing out in the open. Relieves tension, makes us laugh. And people with high numbers never show up to these things anyway. And nobody has a zero. Well, nobody except for Janet and her household.”
 
I explained that I was there to investigate a suspicious person, but there didn’t seem to be sufficient evidence to support the claim. I would have left the scene at that point, but I observed another resident, 16-year-old female Amelia Stone, in apparent distress.
 
Miss Stone sat in a side chair. Her arms hung limp and she stared dead ahead. Her eyes did not appear to track my movement. Her mascara indicated that she had recently been crying. Phillips began to usher me out.
 
I attempted to interview the young woman, but she was unresponsive. Her mother, Janet Stone (age unknown), joined us. She explained that Miss Stone was merely in shock after seeing the new residents for the first time. She further explained that her daughter was going through an “anti-cop phase,” and I ought to avoid upsetting her further.
 
I asked the elder Stone to describe the new residents. She responded:
 
“Oh! Well. I would never be so vulgar as to describe someone in detail. But they are as you would expect of a pair of Gr-, er, Martians. Thin, large eyes, skin the color of old socks. They are the first of their kind in our neighborhood. But I assure you, we are all eager to help them integrate. We don't usually hold a party like this, you know. This is an occasion. The Board believes that diversity will only enrich our lives. But! The presence of law enforcement can often create tension, don't you think? It’s probably best if you head out. Please, take a little treat on your way.”
 
It was at that point that the younger Miss Stone stirred. Her eyes met mine and she whispered:
 
“Blueberry crumble.”
 
Her mother let out a brief gasp. She then addressed me:
 
“Our family's specialty. Unfortunately, she forgot to bring it tonight and she’s quite upset about the whole thing. Now please, I think you should go.”
 
I scanned the dessert buffet and found a multitude of baked goods and ice cream. There seemed to be a recent absence in the lineup, however, indicated by a blank stretch of tablecloth. Upon further inspection I noted scattered crumbs and a purple-blue stain. I noticed that the two Stones and a few others watched me closely.
 
To maintain a casual appearance, I removed one brownie. I scanned the trashcan next to the table, but it appeared to contain only plasticware and paper plates. With no further evidence of an issue and a standing request to leave, I proceeded to the exit.
 
As I walked across the lawn, I heard shouting. Miss Stone appeared in the doorway. She was immediately pulled back into the building by several unidentifiable hands. She cried out:
 
“It was an accident! You have to help them!”
 
I returned but found the door to be locked. I informed the inhabitants that they were under suspicion of a crime and must open the door immediately. When met without a response I scanned the premises for alternative entrances. I noticed a beam of light around the side of the building and found a second doorway open to the kitchen. Two long Martian-sized shapes lay on the floor, covered in a white tablecloth. It was stained purple in several places. The smell of blueberries was strong.
 
Phillips opened the doorway to the kitchen opposite me, so fast that several pieces of cutlery fell to the floor. After the sound diminished, he said:
 
“Please, it was an accident. We didn't know until it was too late. Amelia queried it on her phone.”
 
I lifted the sheet. Two Martians lay seemingly unconscious or dead.
 
The elder Stone appeared in the doorway, pulling her daughter behind her.
 
“Wait! Amy, tell him what you just told me.”
 
Miss Stone sobbed and shook uncontrollably. She held out her phone to me. The screen read:
 
“Query: accidentally poisoned two grays what to do now
 
Answer: Martians (pejoratively known as “Grays”) are extremely allergic to an anthocyanins, responsible for the blue pigment in blueberry skins. However, exposure to this chemical may be remedied given a rapidly administered dose of nitroglycerin, normally used in the emergency treatment of cardiac arrest in humans.”
 
I asked if they had any such medication on site. Phillips shook his head. Stone said:
 
“The only person in our community who has a serious heart condition is Mrs. Wardell. And she has 38 outstanding violations! We can’t ask her for help.”
 
There was a chuckle at the door. Mrs. Wardell stood there, leaning on a walker and still in her nightdress. I began to explain the situation, but she interrupted:
 
“Oh, I heard everything. You've gone and done it now, haven't you, Janet? Killing two of them... that's not just a violation. That's murder. Maybe even a hate crime.”
 
Stone sobbed. Wardell went on:
 
“As much as I dislike their kind and as much as like to imagine you running around the prison block fining everyone for not keeping their cells up to your standards, I am willing to provide what you need. IF – if. You must agree to my terms.”
 
Stone asked:
 
“What do you want?”
 
Wardell replied:
 
“I want the list of completely unfounded, outstanding violations aimed at my household to be dropped.”
 
Stone hesitated but Phillips applied a hand to her elbow. Stone spoke:
 
“Fine, it's done.”
 
Wardell continued:
 
“And I want a violation added to your household’s record. Surely poisoning the guests of honor at a community event violates some rule you've got in that made up code of yours.”
 
Stone issued a series of expletives that indicated a lack of agreement to the terms. However, Phillips replied:
 
“As board secretary, all record-keeping falls to me… including that of violations. Hannah, it will be done.”
 
Stone screamed. Wardell produced a small orange prescription bottle from her nightdress.
 
The effect of the medication was nearly instant. The two individuals of Martian origin quickly returned to consciousness and requested a moment to clean and compose themselves. All other parties removed themselves to the community room. The Martians rejoined us shortly, somewhat disoriented but otherwise healthy. When the situation was more fully explained to them, they addressed me directly:
 
“Please, you may uncuff the Earthling named Janet Stone. We do not intend to press charges.”
 
Stone sat slumped in a chair while her daughter now attempted to comfort her. The news appeared to have no effect. I heard her whisper the words “fifteen years” and “no violations,” but the rest of her speech was indecipherable.
 
The Martians continued to speak to me:
 
“Thank you for correcting the situation, officer. Although we have had conflict with your government’s executive branch in the past, it appears that the new anti-discriminatory regulation is not a completely empty gesture. We will note this to your leaders. May we record your badge number?”
 
I assented. As they took down the number, I heard a soft sobbing in the corner. It was Stone. Terry stood over her with a Sharpie, apologizing profusely.
 
At approximately 2030 hours I left the scene. No arrests were made as there was no lasting harm and no charges were pressed. And aside from a handwritten “1” now appearing on Janet Stone’s name tag, there is nothing further to report.
","August 10, 2023 18:37","[[{'Will Willoughby': 'You’ve done it again—somehow got an engaging, well-developed story into a small space. The story that eats like a meal. 😁 \n\nI love the way we get a sense of how this community functions (or malfunctions or dysfunctions) and the broader commentary about distrust, pettiness, etc. Nice read!', 'time': '21:01 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'K A Hamilton': ""Thanks, Will. ☺️ Now I have to go watch some old Chunky's Soup commercials..."", 'time': '17:28 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'K A Hamilton': ""Thanks, Will. ☺️ Now I have to go watch some old Chunky's Soup commercials..."", 'time': '17:28 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,r7vgul,Earth Day 2080,John Jenkins,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/r7vgul/,/short-story/r7vgul/,Science Fiction,0,"['American', 'Science Fiction', 'Sad']",9 likes,"
“Is the camera on?” said James Botson, a news reporter with the New York Times. 
He was then looking into a giant television camera, which was overlooking a field in Jasper, a suburb of New York City, in the United States. The level of anticipation was high. People had come from miles around to see what was happening. 
Further afield, there was a unique object standing in the grass. It looked like a rocket, but it wasn’t something that you could quite look at. The entire thing was covered with a surface that fumbled the eyes. One didn’t know if one was looking at an alien spaceship or a waterfall. 
People from across the world were tuning in to this broadcast. It was truly a thing to behold. The National Guard had already been mobilized, but they were keeping their distance, not wanting their own repressive tactics to be misconstrued.
Suddenly, the door of the spaceship opened.
“Look…here,” said Botson, standing between the people’s eyes and the spaceship, a general yell growing in the crowd now gathering. “The creature. It is coming out. It’s here. We’ll never see anything like this again.”
Suddeny, a foot lifted itself through the doorway of the spaceship, looking like a small, deformed human foot. It was wearing a white shoe and had no discernible toes. 
“If that toe touches US soil, it will make history!” said Botson. 
As soon as the toe touched the outside of the ship, there was a gigantic flash of white light that blinded everyone in the area. Almost instantly afterwards, there was a sense of intense heat that followed. Enough to melt steel. All the cameras instantly died as the Earth began to shake and the sky turned white.
The explosion started in the New York suburb and radiated to the entire northeastern United States. The quake could be felt as far away as China and as far north as the North Pole. The Earth quaked so hard that buildings began to fall all over the planet. The Earth opened, swallowing everything in sight in some places. There were floods and tidal waves. 
The first confirmed alien species had arrived. And my, they were not friendly. The remainder of humanity began to regroup, looking for some way, any way, to recover. After an analysis by the Science Policy institute, it was discovered that the Earth had been knocked off its rotational axis by three percent. The earth was now on a collision course with Mars, one of the closest planets in orbit to the Earth.
The militaries of the world came together. What would they do to save themselves from this great evil? The people who remained were scared. They knew the risks. Due to the heat of the sun and the concomitant unpredictability of such a diversion in pathways, the entirety of humanity would likely burn up in the heat of the sun well before reaching the position of Mars. 
It was an unavoidable risk. The ocean levels were rising already, due to increased heat. People were dying of cancer at elevated levels. Even with this terrible conundrum, the people were mostly complacent. There was a big hole in the world where the northeastern United States had been, mostly covered with ocean. As the Earth continued its trajectory to find the sun’s rays, a few at the very top of humanity’s totem pole hatched a plan.
“If we nuke the other side of the globe with an equally powerful nuke, perhaps we can push ourselves out of the way of the sun,” said one scientist.
“Would the Chinese be willing to allow us to do this, just to survive?”
There were a few quick debates on the subject as the world became more and more untenable. It was a month after the original incident when they decided to act. Taking a cue from the alien’s own tactics, they decided to place the world’s most powerful nuke, the Esprex 38, onto the tallest mountain range in China, Mount Everest.
“You’re willing to nuke Mount Eversest?” said another scientist. “You can’t do that. This is one of the landmarks of humanity, of society itself. We’ll never recover if you do that.”
Dissenting opinions were shunted away. The bomb was carried to the top of Mount Everest by Chinese military helicopter. Many sherpas living on Mount Everest decided to “go down with the ship,” as without Mount Everest, their entire livelihoods and reasons for living would be destroyed. The people were frightened, but that was the least of it. The world was still becoming less and less healthy. The seas were angry, and the sun was hot. There was little chance of survival if the people didn’t do something.  
The Chinese government, having little recourse but to act, decided on a detonation date. A month and five days from the original incident. The nuke was set off, destroying Mount Everest and much of China. In fact, the bomb was twice as powerful, and twice as damaging, as the original alien nuke that had been set off in the New York suburb. 
The nuke was so powerful, in fact, that it created a fault that separated the Earth into two halves, one North Earth and the other South Earth. They were now completely cut off from one another, as all of the satellites had already stopped working. 
On North Earth, they discovered that they were saved. They would soon be making it back to their regular orbit, assuming that they were not hit by an asteroid on the way. South Earth, however, was moving even faster in the direction of Mars, and ultimately the Sun. 
On South Earth, the feeling was that of utter despondency. The people felt that they had been left without any choice in the matter. They prayed, quite openly in fact, for a resolution. The people made animal sacrifices to the gods. They could do nothing else. It appears science, the understanding of human suffering, had failed them entirely. 
Within two weeks, North Earth was back in its original orbit. Though it no longer had a moon, it was still in a much better position than South Earth, which had been left without hope. In South Earth, reports spread about the notion the North Earth had purposely designed the Esprex 38 so that it would separate the two earths. The people began to believe that the separation was intentional, that the people of North Earth had sacrificed a whole half of the globe to save themselves. 
That was the end. South Earth soon became uninhabitable for humans forever.
","August 06, 2023 15:49","[[{'Jakob Roy': ""Aliens come to earth... and it's a worst case scenario outcome. It seems the alien visitor was a suicide bomber (could the aliens follow a religion that condemns humans as a race of demons who must be eliminated in a holy war?) Or maybe the alien really was on a good will trip, but his ship was sabotaged? Either way, the story ends with the world facing two futures, hopeful and bleak (Depending on which half of earth you find yourself on). Overall, an interesting idea on what could go wrong if our intergalactic guests aren't so friendly"", 'time': '16:43 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'John Jenkins': ""Our stories were opposites, but I honestly didn't think about the idea that the explosion could have been a mistake. Maybe the earth's gamma rays set of a chain reaction in the alien's ship. I maybe could have incorporated that as well. Thanks."", 'time': '13:37 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'John Jenkins': ""Our stories were opposites, but I honestly didn't think about the idea that the explosion could have been a mistake. Maybe the earth's gamma rays set of a chain reaction in the alien's ship. I maybe could have incorporated that as well. Thanks."", 'time': '13:37 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,xbfjet,The Pavilion,Joe Smallwood,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/xbfjet/,/short-story/xbfjet/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Mystery', 'Speculative']",9 likes,"
It should have happened to someone else. As St. Germain said, everyone had already been through the wringer. A parade of people, the who’s who of SETI, scientists, politicians, ordinary people, wackos, and children. Yes, children.“So, you’re right where you belong,” St. Germain quipped. “Children being SETI’s last try.”He looked me over like he was meeting me for the first time, even though he was supposedly the boss of Regional Health. “It's down to the local authorities,” he continued. “Health Services, Port Hansen, as you know.”What was going on? I wondered. St. Germain asking for me? I had heard a shakeup was looming in the health department, but this fallout was not what I imagined.“But I work out of Hazelton. Couldn’t you have gotten someone closer to…”“It is what it is.” He got up to go. “Any questions?”It was such a lovely day. I had vacation time lined up. A weekend trip to an amusement park for the wife and kids, so much more to look forward to than this. I paused, one chance, and there it would be, right on my lap.“Any reason why the children didn’t work out?”“They were bored. They missed their video games.” He turned to go, thrumming his fingers on my desk as he left.#Once St. Germain left the building, Emma sneaked upstairs, skirting the potted dwarf trees and avoiding the main corridor, to get to my office.“What’s got him snooping around?” she whispered as she entered my office.I shut the door after checking that the receptionist for our floor was on a coffee break.“I haven’t a clue.” I sighed. “I hardly ever see the man. He’s been to the pavilion already. Why does he need me to go?”Emma laughed as she sat across from me at my desk, a bunch of papers in her hand. “Misery loves company?” she suggested.When I didn’t answer, she stared at me with this look I was seeing more of lately.“I got this from your mailbox,” she said, brandishing a sheaf of papers and shaking them. “This is your bogus new assignment! Wooh oo! Ghosts and Goblins are welcome, don’t you know! Wouldn’t want them to have a health scare!”I smiled. “I could have gotten it myself.”“Yes, but then you wouldn’t have me to hand it to you,” Emma cooed as she gave me the papers. Then she winked and swaggered away, with an exaggerated peek to see if the receptionist was back as she scooted downstairs to her ready room.#Ghosts, Goblins and aliens were old news. Climate change was causing severe declines in living standards worldwide. Mother nature's onslaught caused insurance rates to skyrocket. When people could no longer pay for or even get insurance, unrecoverable losses put more people than ever out on the street. Societal breakdown soon followed, along with worsening social services and job losses. Inflation made for a crisis that governments everywhere seemed incapable of handling. The doomsayers were saying that Western Civilization was in terminal decline. But there were bright spots of hope here and there. Canada’s prime minister, Mohammed Al Ahmad, had been caught up in a vast corruption scandal, but he admitted everything he had done wrong and resigned. His replacement was working hard to restore confidence in the federal government. President Andrews of the United States resigned around the same time. Vice President Garcia took his place and introduced a whole series of reforms that Congress passed without much dissent.As for the aliens, after six years, many people, government leaders and officials had already been through “the pavilion.” Even though there was nothing to see, it was a tourist attraction—a tiny rectangular box having suddenly appeared in the middle of Port Hansen’s Lockview Park near the canal. It wasn't long before people wanted to normalize it. “No big deal!” the locals would say as they walked their dogs and answered questions from excited tourists.Now, I would have to go into that box, be bored out of my mind and then file a report. It was getting late—only about an hour before quitting time. Emma was on the phone with me. Her cell to mine, of course.“I’ll go with you,” she said.“No need,” I answered.“No need?” she echoed.We had already been for a friendly drink, which was supposed to be with everyone at the office but ended up being just me and her, everyone bugging off for one reason or another. That was an indiscretion I was inclined to repeat.#We decided to take my car. I wanted this over with as soon as possible; there was no point delaying it, wondering about what might happen. I knew what would happen. Emma and I were going to get to the bottom of something and see where that went.“Did you hear what went on at Building Services and Inspections?” I asked, sliding the car into gear.“What?” Emma answered.“Oh, I don’t get how they thought this through, but they went to the pavilion first before our department.”“So, they rank ahead of us? Yeah, right.” Emma sneered. “What other departments went before us?""“Regional police, fire department, the school board, I could name more.”“Don’t!” said Emma. “It ruins the mood.”That stare again. I had to bring something up that would ruin things for sure.“St. Germain might be wondering about those restaurant inspection reports you handled. The ones for the people who helped you get your job.”“I submitted them to you, remember?” she replied, hardly fazed.Touché, I thought. We were both in it, for sure.#We arrived at the pavilion. School was back in session, with no kids around and not many tourists either. Clouds were shaping up for a storm at Port Hansen. Supposedly, you could see ships on the canal, but there were none. There used to be police and security about the place. A rusty fence and a guard shack, washroom facilities and litter were all there was to see now.Despite its small size and unremarkable construction, there were several things about the pavilion that people paid attention to. For one thing, only certain people could enter it. It had been documented a hundred thousand times or more. Authorized people only; everyone else had to stand back, or the door wouldn’t open. Also, the door was a door. Nothing special. Handle, no window, white like everything else that was there.Even more strange was that the pavilion had already been broken into many times. There was no science fiction force field or protection of any kind. Unless the door was fixed and everything was returned to what it was, it just stopped working. Things like graffiti had to be removed, too, or the same thing would happen. It got so that the authorities took very detailed pictures of everything so that if the pavilion was completely destroyed, they could reconstruct it exactly as it was.“You know what I don’t get?” I said as we exited the car in the parking lot in front of the pavilion. “Durden over at building inspections is on a tear. Moving people around, insisting that building inspection reports be reviewed. I even heard he’s forcing people to retire, threatening to air all the dirty laundry.”“I never heard that,” replied Emma, sighing. “What else is going on?”“Keep this under your hat.” I lowered my voice. “I know a few dirty cops. They’re afraid they might lose their jobs.”“Oh, spill everything, why don’t you?"" she jeered. ""What about the fire department or the school board?”“I didn’t hear anything about them. But it's like a bomb has hit the whole region. St. Germain is back with his wife if you could believe that!”Emma laughed. “Who planted a bomb under him? Speaking of which, didn’t someone plant a bomb at the pavilion last year?”“Tried to plant a nonfunctional bomb,” I answered as I got everything I needed from the trunk of my car.“That’s not what I heard,” she continued. “The bomb squad detonated it later away from the pavilion.”“Oh, they planned to drop an Atom bomb on it too. Only the plane wouldn’t take off!” I joked as I approached the door. “You’ll need to stand back.”A crowd of tourists was beginning to make a lot of noise as they gathered around. They wanted to see the door open. Emma backed away more than needed and persuaded some tourists to join her. She had this look on her face like she was concerned. Maybe this was a big deal after all.I hesitated when the door clicked open, and then I turned and waved at everyone as they cheered and clapped. It was just a simple step up and in, but I immediately noticed the lack of proper wheelchair access as I entered—something else to add to my boring, stupid report.#I shouldn’t have been afraid. Funny thing that. We think with our heads, and then our hearts do their own thing. Control your thoughts, and that can work, but your feelings, forget about it. What is it about us? Why would I imagine entering the pavilion would be any different for me than for the hundred or so thousand who came before me? I’m so unique; I’m the one and only! A middle administration staffer at a local health agency in a remote corner of the world solves the most incredible riddle of all human history! How dumb is that? I could see the headlines swirling in my brain, an endless stupefaction.It was my own pounding heart and labored breathing that brought me back to reality. There were chairs. Chairs made of cheap blue plastic, like ones you could pick up at a garage sale. These aliens have no taste, I thought, chuckling and gaining more composure. Why would we want to meet them anyway? To exchange décor ideas for Salvation Army soup kitchens?I finally calmed down. The ten-by-twenty room I was in was starting to look and feel like an elementary school time-out, with all those soothing feelings you get from not having to deal with an angry teacher. I glanced at the boilerplate speech I had in my hands. It was the standard spiel, delivered to me in its eleventh incarnation, the version number on the bottom. I felt like starting my address with “Greetings, fellow aliens!” but the instructions said to say only what was on the page, nothing more:As previously stated in our many visits, we need to know why you are here. We began with the people most qualified to understand you and with whom you could most easily communicate. Then, influential people came to visit, leaders from all over the world who could facilitate and help with anything you need to accomplish your mission. Following that, many scientists, medical doctors, and highly educated people from all fields of human inquiry have visited and explained what help they might give. You have chosen to locate in a small community in a country of little importance. In our sixth year of attempting to communicate, matters have been turned over to the local authorities. We cannot imagine you would undertake this mission only to fail to communicate with us. You have been warned repeatedly that failing to communicate with those best able to help would result in what is now taking place. The people least able to help are currently the only ones at your disposal. Please give us a sign and communicate. We will make our most qualified people available again.As Chief Health Inspector for Hazelton, I, (say your name), would like to inform you…I had to stop and laugh. What a goof! Instead of saying my name, I said, “Say your name.” I tried again.As Chief Health Inspector for Hazelton, I, Thomas Richardson, would like to inform you that you have violated regional health codes by running an uninspected facility for an unknown purpose in a public park. Please communicate with our public health team to ensure that regulations are followed, or we will be forced to flag your facility as an unsafe public venue.Whew! Done. I was sweating it way too much. The empty white room I was in was still the same as it was, devoid of life. I had this gizmo that tracked radiation, GPS, and many other things that no one explained to me. It was beat-up looking. I had to sign it out. I was curious to know if it worked, but it was silent. It looked so shabby I wondered if someone would blame me for misusing it!It took a while, but even the gizmo started boring me. I didn’t know how long I was supposed to wait, which was weird. You’d think they would tell you that. I sighed—that report. How long would it take to write it? I felt a little weird as I got up to leave, but it was probably from skipping lunch and just general before-supper hunger pangs.The thing that most people didn’t talk about was that the door would open after you were done, automagically, I suppose. Maybe people were happy to leave and didn’t notice. But I felt things were clearer once I stepped into the parking lot. A lot more clear. My visit to the pavilion no longer mattered. Emma was waiting for me in the car.“Did they abduct you?” she joked as I entered my vehicle.""Abduct me? As in, take me somewhere? Absurd.""Emma was at a loss for words. She looked around. The tourists were gone. It was getting dark, and the slight pitter-pat of rain was beginning on the car hood.""Are you alright, Tom?"" she asked.I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was thinking of my replacement and the plans that were unfolding, too many to talk about, like high-speed scrolling web pages that flashed by and were gone before they could be read. My cell was ringing. It was St. Germain.“Hello, sir,” I said.“How did it go?”“Fine, sir. No problems.”“I want to meet with you tomorrow morning in my office. Be prepared to justify all the health inspection reports filed by Emma Fulham. After that little detail we have a lot to discuss.""“Yes, sir.”I started the car. Emma was sitting on the edge of her bucket seat, looking at me intently.“What did he want?”“I have a meeting with St. Germain tomorrow.”“I know that! What’s it about?” she demanded.“It’s about our dirty dealings with restaurant inspections.”Emma looked surprised, but she recovered quickly enough. “So, you’ll stick up for me, right?” she said, convinced all would be well.I stared at her. “I’m going to tell the truth.”It had started to rain heavily. I started the windshield wipers and adjusted the speed to high. As long as we were parked in front of the pavilion, I wanted to see it.“Tom, we’ll both lose our jobs!” she suddenly yelled, her tears starting.She tried to put her arm around me, hold on, and maybe even knock some sense into me, her hands finally balling into little fists. I started the car.“What’s your hurry?” she screeched as I threw the car into reverse, backed up and skidded onto Lockview Drive.“I need to get home.”We were picking up speed, heading for the highway back to the office. The flashing lights of a neighborhood bar careened into view out of the night as I turned a corner at full speed.“Wait!” she gasped, holding onto the car seat. “Let's go for a drink to talk this over!”It was a good thing there was no one tailgating us because, in that instant, I stopped the car so suddenly that we would have been rear-ended. After the vehicle came to a complete stop and rolled back on its suspension, her head was bloody from hitting the dashboard. She moaned and hung onto her seatbelt, looking so small and crumpled. Then she mumbled something to me, and I wanted to reach out to her, but it was too much. Something crumpled inside me, too.“It’s all over, Emma!” I yelled finally, my last mournful cry, louder than her sobs, louder than any sound I had ever made in my life.
","August 11, 2023 12:36",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,7v659l,Uncle Dan,Aaron Kohlhoff,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/7v659l/,/short-story/7v659l/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],8 likes,"
	Uncle Dan was always annoying but on the rare occasion he was right about something, he was completely unbearable. For years, actually decades, he invariably took over Thanksgiving dinner with tales of flying saucers and abductions and unnecessarily graphic descriptions of orifices being probed as our family passed the turkey and mashed potatoes around the table. He’d take out his phone and play old clips of him calling into Coast to Coast AM discussing his theories and experiences with George Noory. I swore if I had to hear about how he met Bob Lazar at a Waffle House in Tucson one more time, I was going to puke. 
	I used to think it was an elaborate, Kaufman-esque piece of performance art strategically designed to make people lose their appetites so he could have an extra helping of Grandma Rose’s semi-famous stuffing. I wouldn’t blame him. The stuffing was really good. But now that the aliens were officially here, I realized how much I hated being wrong and I had learned that there nothing was worse than having to listen to someone insufferable tell you how right their absurd declarations were. 
	The spacecraft had appeared three days before Thanksgiving. There was no warning. NASA hadn’t known about it. It hadn’t shown up on any military or civilian radar. It just appeared above Mount Whitney and hung in the sky. It wasn’t the typical flying saucer or black triangle or cigar-shaped craft that we were used to seeing in grainy cell phone videos uploaded to YouTube. It was just a massive black rectangle that hovered in silence above the highest peak in the continental United States. The eyewitnesses who had rushed to the local news stations to give their accounts of its appearance without exception said there was a crack and a whoosh and then they’d been pulled to the ground by an invisible force. The onlookers had reported that the snow and pines and even some small boulders had risen into the air, hovered for a moment, and then crashed back to earth when the giant obsidian craft had appeared. For three days there hadn’t been any contact. No one knew where the craft was from or what its occupants wanted. Every station had 24-hour coverage of the appearance. It was the greatest exercise in talking without saying anything that humankind has ever seen and, after the first day, Grandma Rose got sick of the empty banter and turned on MeTV to watch some old episodes of The Big Valley.
	The appearance of the craft was a paradigm-altering event for sure but nothing was really happening and Grandma Rose had already bought everything for Thanksgiving so we decided to stick with tradition and get together for the usual awkward, wine-soaked start to the holiday season. 	
	So there we were - a family that only kinda liked each other gathered around an ancient oak dining table listening to Uncle Dan take a victory lap. He was two bottles of wine into the night and slouched at the corner of the table with his eyes drooping and his shoulders slouching. He sloppily pontificated about what the arrival of what he dubbed 'the Andromonoids' meant. Since he was the only self-proclaimed alien abductee at the table, he felt he was more than qualified to be the exclusive voice to speculate about their motives. 
	“They’re scared of us. That’s why they’re here now. If I was president of Space Force, I’d be getting them before they get us. ” Uncle Dan slurred.
	“Can you pass the sweet potatoes honey?” Grandma Rose asked Dad.
	“Why would they be scared of us Dan?” Mom said.
	“They think they’re top dogs now but they know. They know…” He topped off his wine glass with Cabernet. 
	“They’re just sitting there.” I said. “They’re not hurting anyone.”
	“Listen little niece, no one who takes a chunk outta someone’s butthole is full of peace and flowers.”
	“Dan, that’s enough.” Mom said.
	“Seriously. Why would they take a chunk out of my butthole if they weren’t afraid.” 
	“No one took a chunk out of your butthole dear.” Grandma Rose said.
	“Wanna bet.” 
	Dan stood and loosened his belt. I looked into my green beans and prayed someone would intervene. Grandma Rose scooped another helping of sweet potatoes onto her plate and politely told Uncle Dan that his pants had to stay on during dinner. Uncle Dan huffed and sat back down. 
	“If people want to see it after dinner you can show them sweetheart.” Grandma Rose said. 
	Uncle Dan poked at his turkey and everyone ate in silence. 
	In the corner of the living room, the TV was on but muted. It was turned to Fox News because, of course, Uncle Dan had insisted on it. The screen had a continuous side-by-side feed of the craft and whatever talking head they had dug up to fill the schedule. F-22s lazily circled in the pale blue sky around the craft. Fox cut to a shot of hippies, alien enthusiasts, and influencers who had gathered in Death Valley. It was a sea of tie-dye, faded camo, and women with hombre cuts wearing short shorts and floppy hats trying to capture the perfect UFO selfie. Uncle Dan said he wouldn’t be getting that close if he was there. 
	Then, finally, something happened. The air around the craft started to glow. It was like an aurora borealis in broad daylight. Uncle Dan rushed to the TV and turned up the sound. An unnaturally blond reporter was mid-speculation as she informed the anchor about the newest development. 
	“…to be emitting radiation and, as you can hear, there’s a hum coming from the craft now. The F-22s seem to have pulled back and...”
	“Sorry to interrupt Madison,” the Anchor interrupted, “but it looks like the craft is opening up. Is that what you’re seeing on the ground?” 
	The reporter turned around and the photojournalist zoomed in. Sure enough, there was now what looked like an entrance on the bottom of the ship directly above the summit of the mountain. You couldn’t really see anything though. It was just an opening that led to a dark void. The reporter informed the anchor that the humming was getting louder. On our screen, the focus of the zoomed-in camera oscillated between clear and fuzzy and we could hear the crowd cheering in the background of the broadcast.  
	“This is it. They’re going to start the atmosphere on fire.” Uncle Dan proclaimed. “God, I fucking knew it. I hate being right.” 
	A spire shot out from the bottom of the craft. It moved so fast that the air cracked like a tree that had been snapped in half and everyone on the television covered their ears and ducked. There was an explosion of rock and snow at the top of the mountain and, when the debris settled, we could see a silver tower sticking out of the summit. It looked small on TV but it must have been close to ten stories high. Then the spaceship started to spin. It rotated so fast that the remaining snow on the mountain was sucked into the air and filled the screen with vibrant, almost natural colors. It spun so fast that it seemed to lose its original rectangle shape and morphed into a disk. Then there was another crack and the ship was gone. The only evidence it had been there was the silver spire and the disappointed crowd. 
	Uncle Dan stared at the TV. He swayed back and forth and I clenched my teeth as I watched the red wine in his glass come precariously close to the edge. After a moment, he turned and faced us. He was breathing through his mouth and his eyes were glassy and confused. 
	“They left.” He mumbled. “Why would they come all this way and leave?”
	“Sit down honey.” Grandma Rose said. “They were probably looking for intelligent life and realized there wasn’t any here.” 
	I snorted and wine almost came out through my nose. I took another scoop of stuffing and said. “That makes total sense.”
	Uncle Dan sat down and stared at his plate. Grandma Rose and I locked eyes. She smiled and winked and asked my cousin to pass the salt. 
 
","August 08, 2023 15:00",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,0j5qvj,Newsposition ,Katelynn Laird,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/0j5qvj/,/short-story/0j5qvj/,Science Fiction,0,"['Adventure', 'Science Fiction', 'Fiction']",8 likes,"
“This just in… Yes, we can now confirm that the US Air Force does not control the unidentified air craft that recently landed on the roof of the Staples Center.”
“Government officials and local law enforcement are scrambling to control the scene outside the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles as thousands stop to observe a strange metallic flying ship.”
“No one seems to know where this craft came from, how it operates, or why it has landed right on top of a major event center.”
“Yes, that’s correct! Sentient life forms seem to be exiting the Staples Center Craft now. They appear humanoid, but are clearly not human. Is this first contact or an elaborate hoax? Stay tuned for amateur footage from the scene and you decide.”
“We don’t know much at this point, but one this we know for sure is that life as we know it, life in this country, and life on this planet, will never be the same.”
It was like the movies, and at the same time, not. That was probably for the best.
No men in black suits locked down the scene or acted as if nothing out of the ordinary even happened. No death rays or brain-sucking monsters preyed on the curious public. Mainly, a bunch of people flooded the streets surrounding the Staples Center, phones held steady in front of them to capture every moment. Pics or it didn’t happen. And there can be no denying this happened.
It’s probably a good thing nothing was going on at the Staples Center that night. Many more people and a lot more panic would have been involved. Still, the building was lit up like the rest of down town, a perfect place to land, I suppose. As it was, enough people crowded around once word got out what was going on.
Many tried to say it was fake. The ship didn’t look like an alien spacecraft. The things that walked out the door didn’t look like aliens. Then again, what does any human know about real aliens that they didn’t learn from a movie?
The ship looked very similar to human shuttles, but made from different metal, without paint, and with a few alterations in design. But the general function seemed the same, with one notable difference. This ship was capable of vertical take-off and landing, allowing it to safely dock on the Staples Center roof. But other than those few differences, it wasn’t very strange looking.
The beings that exited the ship weren’t as strange as one expected when encountering extra-terrestrials either. They were not tiny and green. They didn’t have four arms or three eyes. They weren’t wrinkled brown raisins or tall and willowy with blue skin. Honestly, they looked almost human. Again, only with slight changes. Where we come in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes, these were all very uniform. They all possessed darkly tanned skin, pale blonde hair (for those that had hair), and were well-built, not overly muscular, but not scrawny either. Their hair was thick, like the texture of fur, but growing mainly on their heads, similar to humans. There were other less noticeable differences, like their pronounced canine teeth, blue tongue and fingers nails, and blue blood. Their eyes also came in a wider variety of colors than humans, the only feature that was consistently different among the otherwise nearly identical group.
The males and females weren’t as disparate as humans, in appearance, though most deferred to the females as having higher authority and heightened intelligence. So, that’s a significant difference.
But overall, these newcomers were strikingly similar to us. And that made sense. They’d evolved on a planet, though very far away, that closely resembled earth. It is carbon-based, oxygenated, and requires water to sustain life. Their sun is a more powerful star, hence the commonly tan skin, and their chemical compounds are a little different, but not so much that they couldn’t thrive on our planet as well, and us on theirs presumably.
Cops and eventually, the national guard, shut the scene down within a few hours. Disappointingly, when the aliens were ferried away in Humvees, they did not head toward the desert in Nevada. Rather, they were taken to the capital, supposedly. But quickly, the news crews were silenced and the throngs of camera-wielding bystanders left behind.
And that was then end of the Leonidas’ arrival. For a few months, speculation and rumor ran rampant. But as is common with humanity, other stories, other events, began to take precedent in the news and the minds of the people. Of course, no one just forgot about an entirely new race of being coming to Earth. Yet, it wasn’t as hotly debated as in those first weeks. Let the politicians and leaders deal with it. Most trusted their governments to let them know what they needed to know, when they needed to know it. If the Leonidas were a danger or not, and how exactly their presence was going to change the world. Because, regardless of the interest surrounding these people, on one thing everyone one practically world-wide could agree. If this wasn’t a hoax and the Leonidas were truly our first contact with life beyond this planet, then life on this planet would never be quite the same again.
Almost six months after the dramatic landing in LA, word on the aliens finally surfaced once more. It came through a press conference held in Washington DC.
“The alien beings with whom we made first contact in downtown Los Angeles, California earlier this year, inform us that they are called the Leonida people. They come to speak many human languages through careful study of transmissions between our satellites, and through direct instruction of English upon arriving here. Currently, our top linguists and scientists are endeavoring to learn the Leonidian Language as well.” The Vice-President only hesitated slightly, trying to wrap his lips around the unfamiliar name. 
“The leader of the group that landed here, Ms. Alina Keelie, tells us that she and her compatriots are scientists and explorers from their capital city, Nen.” Briefly, he looked back to an advisor, who nodded subtly. Maybe confirming his information was correct or perhaps his pronunciations. Straightening his jacket, he continued. “Ms. Keelie informed the leaders of the US armed forces and the United Nations that she and her people mean us, that is, the planet Earth and its inhabitants, no harm. She and hers simply wish to learn more about other planets in our neighboring galaxies that are capable of supporting life. Apparently, until recently, much like our own societies, her people believed that they were alone in the universe. But an advent of space exploration and study allowed the scientists of Nen and others from the planet Leonid to discover lifeforms on a distant planet: humanity on Earth.
“I will now turn this presentation over to the United State’s first Leonidian Ambassador, Ms. Alina Keelie.” Gasps and a shuffling forward of reporters met his announcement.
Then, the Vice-President stepped aside to allow a tall, darkly tanned woman forward. Except she wasn’t quite a woman, but rather a female Leonidian. Her light blonde hair was pulled back into an intricately braided bun and she wore the same flight suit that she and her crew first appeared in when exiting their ship months before. It looked like a thin, pale blue and dark silver material, formed into loose pants and a matching cropped jacket.
Alina Keelie nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Vice-President.” Her voice was calm and clear, with a thick but pleasant accent that didn’t sound like any from this planet. Then she faced the assembled crowd and news cameras, blinking striking lime green eyes. “My name is Captain Alina Keelie.” She put only the slightest emphasis in her title. “I am humbled by and immensely grateful of the hospitality show to my crew and myself upon our arrival to your planet.” The unfamiliar speech patterns and mannerism made it slightly more difficult to tell, but her opening lines sounded very rehearsed. Maybe that was simply due to the fact she was new to speaking English.
“Only recently have our technologies allowed us to… pick up the transmissions carried by your satellites,” she continued, “and we were shocked to discover, not only living organisms on a distant planet, but sentient, intelligent life.” Here she smiled at the small representation of said life gathered before her, flashing pointed canine teeth and yet, still managing to look kind and sincere. “I’ve come to realize that humanity’s, um, perception of… beings from other planets… is largely misconceived. I assure you now that we, to use your phrase, come in peace. The people of Leonida are no more advanced than the people of Earth. Where we might make innovations in one area, you have excelled in another. That is why my crew and I were so eager to meet humans, to learn more about your… civilization and planet. We are scholars and allies, not invaders.” She stopped here and looked expectantly at the crowd. They began to cheer as if on instinct.
Having said her piece, Alina bowed deeply and retreated back among the others standing behind the conference podium. As they made space for her, most looked away, their postures stiffening. Only one or two humans (there were no other Leonidas present) stood near her without change in expression.
The Vice-President returned to the microphones. “Thank you… er, Captain Keelie. Now, I have one more announcement before we end for the day. The US Department of Homeland Security, along with NASA, the United Nations, and several other interested organizations, plan to institute the Leonida Integration and Observation Program. This is a first of its kind hosting program where the members of Captain Keelie’s crew will be welcomed into our society, first here, in the capital, before embarking on a world tour. Their travels will include observing and learning about our various cultures and the human way of life. This program is the first step in what we hope will become an on-going partnership between our two peoples.” At his announcement, the crowd’s fervor returned. Reporters shouted their questions from every direction.
“What will this program entail, exactly?”
“Which countries will the aliens visit?
“What can humans expect when hosting the Leonidas?” This was my question. Looking back, I probably could have phrased it is a slightly less fearful, “us versus them” way, but my journalistic drive for information superseded kindness and tact for a moment.
A few questions were each answered in turn. Many more were not.
Finally, the Vice-President nodded to me, or my outstretched recorder rather. “We can expect to welcome our new visitors with respect and hospitality, answer any questions they may have, and show them the best parts about America, and about being human.” A vague enough answer, but it was all I was going to get.
The press conference ended shortly after and Alina was herded away. The Leonidian Integration and Observation Program started about two months later. I was assigned to follow the tour group and interview both the Leonidas and their guides. 
My first interview with Alina Keelie was intimidating, but one of the most fascinating conversations I think I’ve ever had. And not just because I was talking to an actual being from outer space.
“My name is Derrick Carver and I’ll be interviewing you and your crew for the duration of your tour, Captain Keelie.” I held out my hand and she shook it, looking a little bemused as she did so. I wondered if there was a different style of greeting she used on her home planet.
“Please, call me Alina,” she corrected, her command of English just as impressive now as during the press conference.
I smiled and indicated myself. “Derrick, then.” We both sat in a small sitting room attached to her hotel room in DC. Though it was one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, the effect was somewhat dulled by the dozens of soldiers and government agents milling around. “Are the guards for your protection?” I couldn’t help asking. It wasn’t the question I’d planned to ease my way in with, but I genuinely wanted to know.
She looked confused for a moment, but when I nodded to the nearest soldier, a marine by the looks of him, her citrus-colored eyes widened in understanding.
“Ah, in part, I believe. Not everyone has been so welcoming to my people. But, I also suspect that they would defend from us as easily as protect us.” Interesting. Her suspicions were likely true. It wasn’t as though the US government was particularly trusting of outsiders, and it was difficult to imagine someone more of an outsider than a person literally hailing from outside our atmosphere, outside our solar system even.
“I think I understand,” I told her. Then settling in, I began the interview in earnest. “So, how are you finding Washington DC so far?”
Alina looked around her. “It is beautiful. There are so many statues and grand buildings. Where my people have focused largely on technological advancements, we are very lacking in beautiful architecture. Our buildings are functional and… a word meaning all the same, built only to use, not appearance?”
“Utilitarian?” I suggested.
“Yes, exactly. I’ve already seen so many images of structures from around your world, each more intriguing than the last. I am excited to see many in person.”
“Is that your main interest then? Your passion?” I asked. “Architecture?”
She shook her head. “I like architecture fine, especially since it isn’t something we think much about where I am from. But my true love is exploration. I piloted our craft here, did you know? It took many system cycles, many of your Earth months, but not once during our journey did my enthusiasm wane.” I was drawn to the way she spoke, each word leaving me wanting to hear more. It wasn’t only her fascinating accent, but her diction was well. She’d clearly learned to speak English very formally, and yet, each time she searched to fill a gap in her vocabulary was as endearing as her most eloquent words.
“That is why I became a journalist,” I told her, leaning forward. “In this job, I get to travel all over the world and learn new things about each place I visit. I bring back stories, new and old. And pictures of the amazing sights I’ve seen.” At the last, I indicated the camera bag sitting beside my leg. “Actually, do you mind?”
“Do I mind what?” she wondered.
“I’d like to take a photo of you, if that’s alright. To accompany my interview. You see, I can use my camera—“
Her laugh interrupted my, admittedly man-splain-ish, explanation of how a camera functions. “I know how photographs are taken,” she assured me. “We have similar image capturing technology on Leonida as well.”
“Oh, right.” I hid my embarrassment by digging through my bag to retrieve the camera. “Um, smile,” I said, holding it up.
She grinned amusedly, again showing those canines that seemed both predatory and a little alluring. I snapped a few quick pictures.
My interviews with her crew were less personal, more focused on getting their opinions about what they’d seen of Earth, and more specifically the US, so far. Most were not as well-spoken or enthusiastic as Alina, but each scientist, linguist, anthropologist, and engineer was pleasant and thoughtful.
There were three males and seven females total, including their captain. A dumb, juvenile part of me wondered if one of the males, or any of her crew really, was in a relationship with Alina. Which was stupid. I didn’t even know if romantic relationships were the same between Leonidas as with humans. But it was very easy to forget that she, that all of them, weren’t human unless I was paying very close attention. I told myself I’d work up the courage to ask about the more intimate details of their society’s customs in my next course of interviews. I’d ask the anthropologist. I had a feeling Alina would laugh at me again.
After finally finishing the last interview, my mind already spiraled into the future, thinking about where the tour would take us next, and what I’d ask my interviewees about the destination. This assignment was the biggest story I’d ever covered, and probably ever would. I forced myself to focus on the present for a moment, before the daydreams took hold once more, to start writing my first article.
“Leonidas: The Visitors That Changed Our World Forever”
By Derrick Carver
","August 04, 2023 19:34",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,c1p9f3,Tourist,Danielle Azoulay,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/c1p9f3/,/short-story/c1p9f3/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction']",8 likes,"
My onyx heels pounded against the cracked pavement as I made my way out of yet another shady, abandoned alleyway. A huge gust of wind threw my short hair out of place, blonde strands trailing along in every direction.
I was back in civilization. A ray of sun shot through the clouds, striping over my crimson dress. I reached into my feathered clutch for one of my four cell phones.  Gripping my leather gloves with my teeth, I slid them off of my hands in one fluid motion, skilled enough by now not to smudge any lipstick. My fingers danced tiredly over the buttons, and I picked up my pace as a stony voice echoed through the receiver.
	""I did what you wanted me to. Obviously."" I answered dully.
	""Well I ain't gonna congratulate you for it.""
	""I wasn't expecting you to, idiot.""
He chuckled, a high, raspy, wheezing sound that had me irritatedly pulling the phone away from my ear.
	""Alright, get back here quickly. We ain't waiting 'round for you. You ain't here, we're taking off without you.""
	""You wouldn't dare leave me here.""
With three distinct beeps, the line went dead. I sighed, stepping out closer to the street. Cars of every shape and color flew past me; a rainbow of exhaust and fuel stretching down an endless road.
Running my glossy, manicured fingers through my hair, I stepped closer to the oncoming traffic with a thumb out. It didn't take long for some sucker to halt his wheels, pulling up next to me with a desperate screech.
""Why hello there, sexy. Come on in.""
I bit my tongue and gave the sleazy old man, whose remaining hair was tiredly slicked back with some sort of grease, a large smile. He returned the favor with an eager grin. His convertible compensated for his lack of teeth.  Yum. 
I threw my clutch into the backseat, watching the individual feathers glued to the front attempt to flutter away before hitting the hard leather seats with a thump.
For a few moments I stood still, one foot lingering in the car.
	""Come on, baby. I'll drive you right on down to Pleasureville.""
I raised an eyebrow, grabbing the man's sweaty palm and hoisting myself into the cardinal red sedan. Matched my outfit.
Continuing to smile at the man, I blinked twice, and my eyes began to illuminate in my sockets. They took on a bright green hue, filling in one of the man's missing teeth as it shone directly into his fading smile.
His hands gripped the wheel a bit tighter.
""Wow, that sure is a cool trick,"" he mustered, about to step on the gas.
I inhaled deeply, and bright orange flames roared out of my head, licking the seats around them with a serpent-like curiosity. 
The man's eyes bulged from his sockets and his breathing increased unsteadily.
I made sure to roll the windows down before I muffled his screams with a blanket of electricity radiating from my skin.
Placing my unconscious and possibly dead passenger across the backseat, I slid behind the wheel and focused on the road. 
It only took me three minutes to crash into the side of an ancient brick building. 
The car was obliterated beyond repair. 
	""Great. At least I figured out how to start it,"" I muttered to myself, grabbing my clutch from beneath the smashed aluminum siding. 
I sped back out onto the road, managing to hail a bright yellow taxi cab in a matter of seconds.
 	""Gotta love New York,"" the driver said with a smile.
He was a young man, probably in his early thirties with thick, slightly curly brown hair and bright eyes. His expressions were so innocent they were almost animalistic, like that of a dog. I was about to assume the wheel, beginning to heat up my eyes when the man began to talk.
	""You're not from around here, aren't you?""
	""Did my horrible taxi signals give that away?"" I asked dully, looking through my phones to see if any survived my previous crash.
He smiled. It was warm and genuine, something I hadn't yet seen in this state.
	""Nah, you just look lost. Where do you need to go?"" he asked, leaning back to face me.
I looked him in the eyes, questioning my next move. I promised myself that I wouldn't kill anyone who didn't deserve it. He seemed nice enough. But I was really pressed on time. 
	""Is everything okay?"" he asked, pulling the cab onto the road.
	""Yes. Just…take me downtown as fast as you can.""
I'd give him ten minutes. If we weren't getting anywhere I'd dispose of him.
	""Sure thing, Ma'am. You must be headed somewhere really great to be dressed up so fancy,"" he guessed, glancing back to me in the mirror.
	""I'm actually headed home.""
	""And where is home?""
I bit my lip in thought.
	""It's far I can tell you that. I had to take care of some business here.""
	""Well I hope you had fun. New York is a great place if you're set on adventure. You get lost, you always end up finding something new.""
	""I'm not very adventurous. And no, I didn't have much fun."" I said, amusing his small talk.
I saw him look at me through the mirror again. I raised my brows back.
	""You should always have fun. No matter what it is you're doing. Look out there!"" he said, pointing a finger to the right.
A dozen women, all dressed in neon pink stood out on the street, their arms linked. They were doing a little dance, kicking their silver boots up in the air and cackling between each other. I couldn't help but give a small laugh.
	""See? They're having tons of fun. You know this block's got a really great museum. Really cool. There's lots of ancient things from all around the world.""
	""Really.""
	""I know it sounds boring, but there's just something about seeing it up close that's just breathtaking. There's a mummy in there too! Thousands of years old, and it's right there. Right in front of you!""
I looked back out the window. This place had been bothersome since I first entered its bumbling passages. It was loud and noisy and made my job ten times harder to complete. But it wasn't that I didn't like those things. I didn't know what I liked. All I knew was that I had a job and if I didn't do it, I served no purpose. I looked at the little clock on the front of the car. Twenty minutes. I'd give him some extra time considering the amount of traffic built up around us.
	""You been to Broadway?""
  	""Excuse me?"" I asked.
He shook his head, almost disappointed.
	""Singin' and dancin' and a real spectacular performance! Oh, you're missing out. There's The Phantom of the Opera, and Wicked, and-""
	""What's the point of that?""
	""Entertainment. Lots of things. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll have a great time.""
	""Well, all I've learned about New York so far is that its taxi drivers are great advertisers,"" I answered, cracking a small smile at him through the mirror.
That seemed to fuel him, and he grinned from ear to ear, laughing softly,
	""And I don't even mean to be, I promise. So what kind of work you do here?""
	""I work for a…collection agency. I had to collect some…things to bring back home for observation.""
	""Funny, most collection agents are rude, obnoxious and cold-hearted. You're not any of those things,"" he said.
A car cut us off right then as I took his words in. I felt a strange twang in the center of my artificial chest. 
	""Honk!"" I shouted, cheering as the driver obeyed my demands.
	""That's gonna cost you extra,"" he joked, giving one last honk for fun.
I laughed, wholly and genuinely. It was the first time in a very long time.
	""I""m Jerry, by the way.""
Jerry. Such a strange name.
	""They call me Betty here,"" I said.
He reached a hand back to me and I grabbed it, unsure. He shook it up and down.
	""What…what was that?"" I asked, puzzled.
	""You don't have handshakes where you're from? Wow, really sounds like no fun to me.""
	""It's not.""
Suddenly, the car stopped. I looked up. We were here. The strange feeling in my chest dropped lower and seemed to get heavier as it fell.
	""How much do I owe you Jerry?"" I asked as he turned back to face me a final time.
	He shook his head, curls flying underneath his cap.
	""Don't worry about it,"" he said with a  wink.
I looked out the window. In a few moments I would exit the taxi, make my way down to my unit's ship, and present the boss with the specimen samples he requested. And then I'd be stored away until the next mission. This…New York would be over. I wouldn't have this skin anymore, this hair. This heart. I would be a prisoner to my planet, meant to collect data and function as a tool. I took a sigh and grabbed for my clutch, and then paused.
	'Everything okay, Betty? I hope it's alright that I call you Betty.""
	""Actually…I think I'd like to see that Broadway thing you were telling me about. Care to join me?""
He beamed, eyes shining.
Mars could wait. 
 
","August 08, 2023 20:51","[[{'Brittany Butler': ""This was so fun and endearing, from start to finish! I love that you told the story from the alien's perspective, too. Great job!"", 'time': '20:47 Aug 20, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,g64829,CEO,Gregg Voss,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/g64829/,/short-story/g64829/,Science Fiction,0,"['Speculative', 'Suspense', 'Science Fiction']",8 likes,"
Menlo Park, California
 
Artemis Hoover leaned forward in his chair at the head of the burnished conference room table, folded his arms, and said, “I’m not shy. I’ll address the elephant in the room.” His eyes bored like two red lasers into Tap, Inc.’s CEO Amy Jameson, who sat at the opposite end of the table next to a television monitor with the social media network’s red T app logo. 
	She hadn’t even had the opportunity to begin her quarterly earnings update.
	“Amy, are you an alien?” came the simple question from Hoover, a heavyset man in his early seventies, today wearing an impeccable charcoal Brooks Brothers suit with a red power tie. A class ring with the same color stone was on the third finger of his right hand, like another evil eye.
	Amy had anticipated the question; she still had allies on the board. But she feigned surprise. “I fail to see how that question has any relevance to today’s meeting or any meeting, for that matter,” she replied, returning his lasers with an icy counterpunch. 
	“I think it has everything to do with this meeting and your presentation,” Hoover went on, clearly struggling to remain collegial. “There are rumors on the street that you’re M’Lon. I don’t think I have to remind you of the embarrassment that such a revelation would do to our stock price, especially for the biggest social media company on this planet. Our brand would immediately fall under the category of subversive.”
	M’Lon. The word hung like stench in the closed conference room, even eliciting a quiet “Oooh” from the middle of the table. 
	The M’Lon galactic voyagers had arrived at Earth some ten years ago in mile-long V-shaped ships, which had first been seen over Phoenix in 1997 to much chagrin for locals with video cameras. As a species, they were exactly like humans, down to the DNA level. But their ungainly conduct, lack of clothing, and severely broken English had immediately made them second-class citizens of a cosmopolitan Earth. Their reputation was quickly exacerbated by the explosion of conversation on Tap and the planet’s few other insignificant social networks, along with cracks on late-night TV. The bastardized word “mollen” had become a racist pejorative.
	However, the M’Lon were barred from holding any political or corporate position on Earth for one simple fact: They were ardent, near-fanatical worshippers of their god, a tangible machine the size of a quarter of their home planet, which is approximately two light years from the star Proxima Centauri.
	There was a danger in allowing aliens, who may be taking orders from a self-aware machine, to hold positions of power on Earth. Besides, the concept of deity worship had become passé on Earth. Outmoded thinking.
	“You know there are no reliable blood tests to determine whether one is human or M’Lon, Art,” Amy said. “So you’ll have to take my word.” Now it was Amy who sat forward in her chair. “I do not have M’Lon blood coursing through my veins,” she said “And with all due respect to you and this board, I resent the implication.”
	That was true. Amy Jameson was indeed human. But Artemis Hoover hated liars. He had built his personal brand on his honesty, and as such, had worked to root out falsehood in the organizations he had led. Retired now, that transcended to his board leadership.
	“Come on, Amy, you know companies all over Silicon Valley have alien trash working at the highest levels,” he said. “When it comes out, those companies suffer. Stock prices drop, layoffs ensue, and some even die a slow death.”
	Now he stood, and his gut sagged over the waistband of his pants. “You see, Amy, it’s all about perception,” he said. “You might be an alien or you might not. I, for one, have my doubts, but regardless, if Tap’s CEO isn’t perceived as a machine worshipper yet, it’s coming; mark my words. That’s why I’m compelled to ask this board for a vote, right now, on terminating Amy Jameson as CEO.”
	Amy had anticipated the tenor of this meeting, and as a Dartmouth-educated strategist, she had studied it from every conceivable angle. Thus, she was prepared for her response to a vote.
	She paused, a PR trick to command attention. “Do what you must,” she finally said. “I’ll let the results speak for me.” She pressed a button on a console, and the monitor behind her showed a bar graph with the quarterly growth in stock price over the past two years of her tenure. The range was considerable. A 4.2-percent increase in first quarter led all the way to a 12.3-percent jump in the most recent quarter.
	The next slide showed another bar graph with similar increases in new users, especially internationally, and for the first time, intergalactically. The final slide was a pie chart that depicted wild growth in advertising revenue.
	Artemis Hoover was voted down. It wasn’t even close.
	Hours later, Amy Jameson poured a glass of Merlot as her twins raced around the kitchen island. Her life partner, a tall, goateed man with warm eyes named Jeff, leaned against the island with his arms folded.
	“So you’re still employed,” he said. “That’s a relief.”
	One of the twins did a hard turn around the corner and crashed into an open drawer and started to cry. 
	“Nouakchott! Ah fenza foopala…!”
	“Stop!” Amy implored. “We don’t speak M’Lon around here. Do you want the kiddos to go to school and have everyone think they’re alien?”
	“Sorry, sorry,” Jeff said, patting the twin on the booty and encouraging him to go back to play.
	“So what else happened today?” she said, pouring another glass.
	“I got a transmission from home,” he replied. “God wants you to introduce a new feature on Tap that will turn conversational sentiment toward at least the possibility of a M’Lon presidency. Think you can do that?”
	“I can do anything I want,” she said. “I’m the CEO, after all.”
","August 09, 2023 15:59","[[{'Lily Finch': ""Gregg, I enjoyed the premise of this story. \nI enjoyed the tension and pacing of the tale. It was excellent in its suspense. The ending was so befitting of an M'Lon spy who infiltrated all the way to the top. Well done. Thanks for the good read. \n\nIf I had to make a comment for improvement I would suggest ensuring that each sentence follows along in a logical sensical manner. But that is if I was hard-pressed to have to say something. This critique-circle stuff is for the birds sometimes. \n\nIn this case, I was grateful for the experience."", 'time': '21:52 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Gregg Voss': ""Hi Lily, I was just starting to read your story when I saw this, so forgive me for not quite finishing it,. But I will. :-)\n\nAs for CEO, I don't think aliens have infiltrated social media sites, but I think that the leadership of a lot of these platforms are money-hungry at best, and Machiavellian at worst, thus making them alien to the billions who trust these platforms for news, entertainment, commentary, and such. It was a cautionary tale, I guess I would say.\n\nThere's a prequel novella to this story in my most recent book, Calling Fire F..."", 'time': '22:42 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Lily Finch': 'Gregg, I loved the symbolism in this story and totally could relate to the alien-like nature of the CEO, CFO and senior management toward everyone else in the world. LF6', 'time': '01:44 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Gregg Voss': ""Hi Lily, I was just starting to read your story when I saw this, so forgive me for not quite finishing it,. But I will. :-)\n\nAs for CEO, I don't think aliens have infiltrated social media sites, but I think that the leadership of a lot of these platforms are money-hungry at best, and Machiavellian at worst, thus making them alien to the billions who trust these platforms for news, entertainment, commentary, and such. It was a cautionary tale, I guess I would say.\n\nThere's a prequel novella to this story in my most recent book, Calling Fire F..."", 'time': '22:42 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Lily Finch': 'Gregg, I loved the symbolism in this story and totally could relate to the alien-like nature of the CEO, CFO and senior management toward everyone else in the world. LF6', 'time': '01:44 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Lily Finch': 'Gregg, I loved the symbolism in this story and totally could relate to the alien-like nature of the CEO, CFO and senior management toward everyone else in the world. LF6', 'time': '01:44 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,r0r3hf,On Sunday,Grant Jensen,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/r0r3hf/,/short-story/r0r3hf/,Science Fiction,0,"['Speculative', 'Suspense', 'Fiction']",8 likes,"
Ceci was abducted by aliens. They told her that the world is going to end on Sunday. Ceci wouldn't tell a lie, and we pinky swear to keep it a secret. We're good at keeping secrets now. Ever since Victor and his family left last month. Their house still sitting at the end of the street with his bike laying in the front lawn.******On Thursday, we play jump rope at recess. Despite it all, the dirt schoolyard with its shoddy buildings and screaming children has stayed. When the red paint peels off the brick walls and catches on our uniforms we squint until it looks like glitter. We imagine ourselves as pop stars who are anywhere but here. We sing songs, loud into the handles of the jump ropes, and pretend Victor is still here playing his guitar.When the song is over, Ceci asks if I've seen my uncle.""No,"" I say, ""Not recently."" She hasn't seen hers either. Too many people have gone missing these days, too many to track.""Aliens,"" she says, and I nod along. The helicopters roar above us and block out the sky.   They look like condors with big black wings, and I don't want to tell Ceci that they scare me with their scarred red heads and talons that carry bodies to the ocean. Since they came, the smell in the air has been different. Sometimes I pinch my nose when I walk. Sometimes the stink is so bad my eyes water and I close them tight until all I can see are shapes dancing on my eyelids. I stand still like a statue because I like the way the shapes move and I can pretend that these shadows are the real ones and not the ones that lick my toes when the condors scream thunder.My mother tells me not to worry about them.She says, ""Don't look them in the eye and they'll leave you alone.""And, ""Don't walk home alone, especially if you feel a pinch in your forehead right between your eyes."" That means the condor is looking at you with its psychic rays. Ceci tells me that part in a whisper in the back of our classroom.My mother says, ""There are strange things happening right now. I know they are strange. But don't worry, the strangeness will end.""******On Friday, me and Ceci walk home to an empty house. Which is my house but it doesn't feel like mine. The radio is off and it smells like burnt toast. My father's work boots and my mother's winter coat are strewn by the gate like they always are, but I know this is not my house and those are decoys egging me to come inside.Still, I grab my mother's coat, its stiff and coarse fabric a familiar weight in my hands, and peek through the bullet holes in the door. The light refracts off the broken mirror we keep above the mantel and I watch as one by one the photos on the wall fall and shatter.  Ceci stands beside me and peeks in. I wonder if she can see the same as me, the unnatural neon slime that glistens from floor to ceiling. The slender shadows that glide across the floor like snakes, twisting and contorting around the corners and down the hall.We step back. I hold Ceci's hand and walk towards the street. The lights in the neighbor's house are off, they always are these days, but they're home and agree to call Ceci's parents as long as we promise to not make a sound.While we wait, we sit on the curb and Ceci braids my hair. Ceci says it's best not to go inside my house because sometimes the aliens leave traps. Ones that make you dizzy or fill your head with green goo that makes you sneeze up blood that comes out in chunks the size of golf balls. They're crafty creatures and know much more than us so we need to be careful.Before the sun sets, Ceci's parents come to pick us up. A weariness about them. Their eyes dart in all directions, but they pretend not to see the men who march up and down the block, the one's going in and out of manholes with fingernails that look like claws.A policeman with a hungry dog watches us from across the street. Ceci glares at him and whispers in my ear, ""It's a disguise.""****** On Saturday, Ceci's uncle comes back. He stares at the wall and jumps when her dad turns on the stove. Ceci says the aliens put thunder in his veins. I ask if they did the same to her but she takes my hand and shows me the night sky instead.  ""See that star. That's where we go when the world ends. When we're there we can play music and sing songs without worrying about how loud we are. You, me, and Victor.""We sit on her roof while her parents argue down below. In one hour it will be Sunday. The star shines bright, like a halo, I think, and I imagine an angel whisking us away. Ceci says, ""I'm sorry about your parents, I'm sure they'll come back,"" but her voice wavers.I wonder if it's worth it for them to come back with the world ending.I wonder if it will hurt.I think about the aliens and the way they shoot fire into the sky and how it never makes a sound besides the bodies that hit the pavement. And for the first time, I wish me and Ceci could talk about the truth that exists beyond the words we don't yet have.We hear Ceci's uncle cry and her mom yell. We hear someone say, ""Maybe it's best for us to go, maybe it's time,"" before the power goes out and the street goes black.But the stars are still there, shining brighter than before, filling the sky until they're all we can see. I feel Ceci's hand in mine, her grip tight.  Below us, there's a policeman on the street corner. Just out of view. His clothes drenched in the sewer stench from which he came. He's still watching. The dog is still hungry. Gun loaded and ready under the Sunday stars.
","August 10, 2023 00:59","[[{'Dena Linn': 'Thank you Grant for your story.  Interesting read.  I had trouble with some of your verb tenses.  You combined many and it made the tone and flow a bit hard to follow.  I understand that perhaps it was younger people talking however....', 'time': '11:24 Aug 14, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ws7lao,Molt,Tim Baehr,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ws7lao/,/short-story/ws7lao/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],8 likes,"
Molt
 
Yogi’s first molting season was upon him, and he didn’t know how it would go. His superiors had assured him that the Earth’s temperature range, length of day, and amount of daily sunlight variations were close to those on his home planet. He would do fine. And he had, so far. But he couldn’t be sure those factors would be enough for what was about to begin.
 
The outer layer that wrapped his body was a close analog to microscopic bird feathers. The feathers were so tiny they were indistinguishable from human skin cells, and they were somewhere between dark brown and pinkish. There was skin underneath, but it was gray and wrinkled.
 
He had deep-set lavender eyes, deep enough so that his lack of eyelashes wouldn’t be noticed. And he could fake eyebrows with a little makeup.
 
All in all, Yogi had been pleased that his overall body shape and face had turned out to look so human. That probably had some straightforward explanation: his five-foot-nine stature, two-legged upright body, front-mounted eyes, side-placed ears, and so on were likely functions of having evolved on a planet with a certain gravity, climate, humidity, diurnal cycle, need for depth perception, and so on.
 
His nose and ears, almost tiny, were out of proportion for a normal human face, but not so it would scream alien. The outer layer of his head was the same composition as the rest of his feathery outer layer: he could use a wig or just be bald. Only the composition of the outermost layer seemed to be an adaptation to something different.
 
This first year had been very difficult—landing in a remote area, finding his way to the nearest big city, absorbing the language (thank heavens for the language implant!), finding a job, getting an apartment, getting documented. And thank heavens, too, for the computer and the device that researched and then forged his driver’s license, Social Security card, college transcript, birth certificate, and a couple of credit cards. His bosses didn’t know what sort of society he would encounter, so he had to program the machinery, which was twice as big as it probably needed to be. It had made his backpack very heavy. At least he hadn’t had to find a power source: the machine had a forever battery.
 
He settled in to his tiny apartment and subsistence wages. The job wasn’t hard: a security guard for a strip mall. That was fine; the job didn’t require Yogi to know or learn a lot about human culture beyond the briefest outline he’d gotten from the machine. His job was one into which one could become practically anonymous.
 
The mall didn’t really need protecting, but its owner’s insurance company had insisted on it. Yogi could lounge in his booth and emerge a few times to make his rounds. He had almost no interaction with the shoppers or even the guard on the other shift, a taciturn, shy woman who said little more than hello and good-bye when she reported for work.
 
The most challenging adjustment had been the food and water. Nothing tasted right, and his two stomachs were upset for weeks after he landed. Any beverage he drank turned his urine a strange shade of bluish red so bright it almost glowed.
 
More of his kind would arrive in the coming years; Yogi, as the vanguard of the invasion-by-infiltration force, was lonely for more of his kind. But he was a kind of proof-of-concept. He had to get through the first year and report back.
 
And that first year involved an annual molt, almost at the end of his assignment.
 
During molting season, the feathers had to shed and be replaced. It certainly wouldn’t do to have the top layer of feather-skin slough off for all to see. Even at home, folks were usually unable go out until the new keratinous layers had grown back. The wrinkly, slightly scaly, gray tissue underneath was far from attractive. And the feathers grew back in spiky patches.
 
Yogi quit his job, assuming it would be easy to find another one. He braced himself for the coming ordeal.
 
The molting process was complicated. For the first week Yogi had to stay in the dimmest light possible, give himself daily overall body rubs to loosen the outer layer of feathers, clean up the considerable matter that fell off, and eat lots of protein. And he itched like crazy. Once the new outer layer started to grow back, he would slowly become nearly comatose; both the shedding and the growing took a lot out of him. Eventually the patches of feathers would coalesce, lie down, and smooth out. He would look okay but would need another week or so to regain his strength.
 
Three weeks later, Yogi drowsed into consciousness. After a week of itchy molting, he had been lying nearly immobile for two weeks (he had thought it would take only one) as the new microfeather cells sucked excess protein from his body and populated his skin.
 
Yogi groaned and rolled to the edge of the mattress. He swung his feet over the edge, fell back, and tried again. Not working. He turned over and slid off the mattress backward. His feet got to the floor, and he stood for a while, waiting for his legs to stop shaking. Then he took a few tentative steps, waited for the shaking to subside, and took a few more. He could barely walk; in fact, he was near death from starvation and dehydration. This was normal, however, so he just inched along, feeling his way in the dark toward the bathroom to see the results in the mirror. He took shaky step after shaky step. He knew his strength would return, but he hadn’t expected this molt to be so hard.
 
He flicked on the light.
 
Swearing in Yogi’s native tongue was eloquent, literate, multisyllabic, and extremely loud. It went on for some fifteen minutes, rearranging and elaborating on the curses, his voice rising and falling. Fortunately, in his urban apartment, his neighbors chose to ignore his unintelligible screaming.
 
Yogi looked again and again in the mirror, hoping he was mistaken. He was not. The swearing gave way to sobs.
 
Yogi was, from top to toe, a bright, iridescent purple.
 
","August 10, 2023 17:01",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,zr3a3a,Pete,Jakob Roy,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/zr3a3a/,/short-story/zr3a3a/,Science Fiction,0,"['Funny', 'Science Fiction', 'American']",8 likes,"
If there was one thing Ferris P. Jones knew to expect, it was the disgruntled, if not outright disgusted, look on Sheriff Shaunessy's tomato red face. Why exactly the old boy was always so grumpy had remained a mystery to Ferris this past half a decade. Personally, he enjoyed his job, got a real thrill and a sense of accomplishment out of helping the poor wayward fellers, but like peanut butter-and-pickle sandwiches and competitive rollerblading, he figured not everyone could muster the same excitement as him for the aliens.
""Morning, Hank,"" Ferris cheerfully called the very moment he pushed his way into the station, a little spring in his step. ""Been having a good week?""
Hank Shaunessy, with all the energy of a sleep deprived tortoise, looked up from the stack of papers piled on his desk and fixed Ferris with a veiny-eyed glare. His thick black mustache twitched as he slowly rose from his swivel chair, the inanimate object seemingly breathing a sigh of relief now that its sizable occupant stood on his own two feet.
Without a word spoken, the sheriff crossed the room and shoved a thick file at Ferris. He turned around, marched back to his desk, and plopped down. The chair looked to drop two whole inches.
Ferris took a moment to look through the file, occasionally fiddling with his coke bottle glasses between pages. ""An impressive string of charges,"" he said, having almost let the mess of papers spill out half a dozen times already. Rolling his eyes after reading one particular ridiculous accusation, he fixed the sheriff with a glare of his own, no doubt magnified by his inch-thick lenses. ""Half of these are complete nonsense!""
Hank shrugged without looking up. ""Your little green friends can do whatever they want on Mars, or Venus, or wherever. But here, pants are mandatory.""
""Well yes,"" he said, ""but they don't have the same-""
""No!"" Hank hollered, pounding his desk with a fat fist. ""No more anatomy lessons."" His face burned a whole new shade of red. ""You got ten minutes, Jones. Now get in there before I have you both deported!""
""Not in your authority,"" Ferris muttered as he cut through to the back, but his mood wasn't dampened for long. As soon as he reached the interrogation room, and smelled that familiar chlorine scent the extraterrestrials seemed to sweat, he was grinning from ear to ear.
It really was amazing. Five years ago, Ferris was considered a local cook, and this was a tiny sheriff's station in a tiny New Mexico town, population barely scratching one-thousand, known only for drunken alien sightings if at all. And now, now that contact had officially been made, that extraterrestrial lifeforms had taken to vacationing on earth, Ferris P. Jones was a worldwide respected expert, and the rundown station had grown into the very heart of a booming tourist destination for extraterrestrial vacationers. Old Hank Shaunnesy just didn't know how lucky he really was to be sheriff in such a a place, which was why Ferris so often took the time to remind him.
As he pushed through the heavy door, Ferris made a show of flipping through the file. In a clear voice he said, ""Mister Zigger Zohar Zaheer?""
""Greetings, Earthling,"" came the jolly response, spoken from the lipless mouth of the poor feller handcuffed to the cold metal table. He was a lithe creature, his limbs all long and bendy like pipe cleaners, his skin smooth and hairless and a bright neon shade of green. A pair of large, beetle black eyes blinked above a nonexistant nose. ""I am indeed Zigger Zohar Zaheer, but in the spirit of assimilation, I've taken an appropriate earth name.""
""Oh, that's wonderful!"" Ferris pulled out a stool and sat down opposite the alien, setting file down between them. ""And what would that be?""
Grinning toothlessly, Zigger Zohar Zaheer declared, ""Pete!""
""Well Pete, my name is Ferris P. Jones."" He took a pen from his coat pocket, clicking it. ""I'm here on behalf of the Friends of Extraterrestrial Lifeforms and Adjacent Beings, or F.E.L.A.B. for short. Let's see what we can do to get you out of here, hmm?""
""On the contrary,"" Pete squeaked, ""I'm very fond of this... how do you say... hotel?""
Ferris coughed into his hand. ""Pete, I'm sorry to tell you this, but this isn't a hotel.""
""Ah, my mistake. A resort?""
""No.""
""One of your theme parks?""
""Pete,"" Ferris said grimly, ""you've been arrested.""
The scrawny green alien's mouth formed an O in shock. If he had eyebrows, they'd doubtlessly have shot up.
""You, uh, weren't confused by the handcuffs?""
Pete gave them a tug, scowling. ""I thought it was an earthling custom."" His large eyes met Ferris's ""This is most distressing.""
""Don't you worry, Pete."" Ferris patted the alien's rubbery hand. ""I've always been able to get a client out of a jam."" He scanned the first page again. ""Now, let's see... Ah, indecent exposure.""
""I think you'll find I'm dressed in a most respectful way!""
Ferris hummed. The alien wore a red Hawaiian shirt, buttoned all the way up, a pair of flip-flops, and a lady's sun hat atop his bulbous head. Around his thin neck hung blue plastic goggles on a stretchy string, the kind you'd find at a tanning salon. A child's glow-in-the-dark, sparkly pink wristwatch sat snug around his bendy arm.
""You're certainly fashionable,"" Ferris conceded, ""but I'm afraid the sheriff's right. Pants, or some sort of lower body covering, are a requirement, even if your species doesn't biologically require them.""
Pete sighed. ""I shall pledge to wear pants, Mr Jones.""
""Very good,"" Ferris said, and moved onto the net charge, and several more until he came to: ""Now Pete, here we have an accusation of throwing bread to birds...""
""Of course!"" the alien cheered. ""I've long hoped to participate in one of earth's favorite past times!""
""Understandable, but Pet World isn't the ideal place. Why not try the park next time?""
Pete gave a nod. ""If you insist, Mr Jones.""
Ferris read the next, squinted, then read it again. ""Did you try to kidnap a child from a public pool?""
""Of course not!"" Pete's handcuffs rattled. ""I merely went for a swim, and there in the pool I spotted a poor child named Polo, if memory serves right, apparently afflicted with blindness. He'd fallen into the water, it seemed, and was frantically calling for his friend, a cruel boy named Marco, I believe. 'Marco,' he screamed, 'Marco, Marco!' But that cruel child only taunted him, swimming away whenever he came close enough to latch on for support. Fearing poor Polo would drown, I pulled him from the water and, well...""
""Well, what?""
""It was a miracle!"" Pete looked like he might cry. ""His sight returned, and so overwhelmed was young Polo that he burst into tears!"" He wiped away a tear of his own. ""They say tourists are a blessing to the less fortunate, but I never knew how true that was until I met little Polo.""
Ferris grimaced. ""Pete...""
The aliens already massive eyes widened that much more. ""Yes,"" he said, voice still swelled with joy. ""Yes, my friend?""
""Uh, nothing,"" he said, slamming the folder shut. ""Nothing at all. I just wanted to let you know that you'll be free to go soon. Just give me a moment to go over a few things with the sheriff, alright?""
Behind the one-way glass, Ferris found Hank leaned against the wall with his typical unpleasant expression.
""Let me guess, you want him let loose.""
""Sure do,"" he said, wiping down his glasses with the hem of his shirt. He slipped them back on. ""Pete's a sweetheart, just a little confused is all. Besides, you know most of those charges are nonsense. I'll make sure he understands the rules of pool games and doesn't go around picking up kids he doesn't know anymore, alright?""
The sheriff sighed, glaring through the glass at the little green alien on the other side. ""Fine,"" he said at long last, turning to poke Ferris with a sausage-like finger. ""But I want it in writing that he'll wear pants from now on, you hear?""
Ferris grinned. ""Hank old boy, you're one of the good ones!""
An hour later, with a contract signed under the watchful eye of Hank Shaunessy himself, Pete was a free man- or rather, a free little-green-man. First thanking Ferris's, the alien then spun around to face the sheriff, gripping his catcher mitt of a hand with the fierce grip of a rubber band, and shook with much excitement.
""You have been most hospitable, Mr Hank,"" he said, grinning up at him toothlessly. ""You know, I think I'll invite my whole family down here next cycle!""
Hank's mustache twitched. ""Whole... family?""
""Just my Ma and Pa, and a few hundred of my siblings,"" Pete quickly explained. ""After all, Ma just laid a fresh batch. Two dozen eggs in all, a new record!""
""That's wonderful!"" Ferris cheered. ""They're a remarkable species, aren't they, Hank?""
The sheriff, though, had fallen slack-jawed and mute. In fact, it wasn't until Pete had left the building, a pair of baggy pants from the lost-and-found hanging loose from his waist, that Hank regained the ability to speak.
Face red as ever, eyes so bloodshot the veins looked ready to burst, he said, ""Ferris, you're the expert here. Tell me, please, of all places, why do they always have to come here?""
""Because Hank,"" Ferris said, slinging an arm around the big man's shoulders, ""good folks like you make it such a nice place to visit!"" 
","August 05, 2023 18:51","[[{'John Jenkins': 'I liked this good old alien story. But there was a big twist. Here\'s the breakdown.\nBeginning: In the beginning, it gets right to the point about the alien being in New Mexico. No long, drawn-out origin story. I like how Shaunnesy is spelled phonetically, so readers aren\'t calling him O-Shag-Hennessey! The alien is caught on earth and has bee arrested. The charges are obscure at first, but they are soon revealed.\nMiddle: We finally find out the alien\'s name. ""Pete"" sort of rhymes with ""ET"", so that\'s good. A lot of people only think of littl...', 'time': '13:27 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '2'}, [{'Jakob Roy': 'Thank you, John. Glad you enjoyed!', 'time': '16:44 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Jakob Roy': 'Thank you, John. Glad you enjoyed!', 'time': '16:44 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,9jdrjx,They Are Already Here,Kyle Meeder,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/9jdrjx/,/short-story/9jdrjx/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Funny']",8 likes,"
They Are Already Here
By
Kyle Meeder
 
	I can’t say for certain how long they have been here. They’ve been with us for as long as I can remember and likely long before I was even born. The creatures hairless and odd they are are truly of a different breed. It really only takes one a few moments of observing the other creatures that inhabit our world just to see how out of place these creatures from space really are. 
	From my neighbors I often hear rumors and hearsay of their origins. They came from the sky in a golden blaze and they chose us to be their companions. Others say they came from a rock that crashed out of the sky and when it hit the ground with a thundering crash, they crawled out of it. 
They quickly adapted and began to build and shape the world in their image . When they took over many more savage creatures were killed off, removed from the lands that were once theirs.
	I guess the good part is that we still have our land, but we live now as second class citizens. Some of us stay in their homes with them, I guess we looked cute to the oblong things with their large grimy mitts and their ogling eyes. I will say their choice of communication towards us and the toils and strife of their busy everyday lives are beyond my comprehension. For one they love to give us a lot of baby talk that’s for sure.
	I sat outside on the porch now waiting for my friend Lucas to show up. He was a real patriot. We had a plan to overthrow the tyrannical invaders and restore our society to what it once was. Back when our people roamed free, exploring the land and hunting as we pleased. 
	Lucas was running a bit late. That concerned me deeply. 
	Could he have been snatched up by a patrol?
	The invaders were always patrolling about. We had to be fast and agile. Thankfully our smaller size allowed us to often give their patrols the slip. They built up a larger world around us. I must say the massive dwellings the other worldly colonizers were able to construct were truly astounding. Far beyond anything we could possibly build. 
	It really made me wonder. I gazed up into the sky. How many generations ago has it been since my kind truly roamed free? How long has it been since we ruled this world? I imagined my kind in our hay-day. Many just like me gathered around all shapes sizes, ethnicities all together, I heard we had come together before the invaders arrived and formed a united nation. Now it seemed we were divided. The invaders had done that, purposefully, as Lucas kindly pointed out for me. 
	My mind wandered back to my earliest memories. I remembered being proud of how I looked. I knew that I was desirable. I knew some of the other young ones around me were not. 
It didn’t bother me back then, but after meeting Lucas out in the yard one day that had all changed. I had learned of another world. One that my fellow brethren who were deemed undesirable were forced to exist in. It had broken me from my trance of a supposed utopia. I had finally seen the world for what it really was outside of my bubble. It was a harsh and scary place.
	My brethren were forced to hide and scavenge for food. Many of them succumbed to disease and the elements. Others were picked up by patrols and imprisoned. Some would be released, however they would be permanently altered, to put it simply, the invaders seemed to be trying to curb our population. All while I existed in my life of no worries and luxury under the care of one of the beings from space. 
Maybe they knew about the resistance Lucas had been telling me about. Maybe all that was their way of demoralizing us. Scaring us into submission. This brought a smile to my face. This wouldn’t stop us. If anything This just fueled me with more passion to fight back, I was ready to stand with my fellow brothers and sisters who were not as fortunate as I.
	“You seem quite happy Oliver.” 
	I looked up to see my captor, her name was Madeline, standing above me. A towering titan. Her smile was sweet and innocent on the surface, but I knew better, I saw it for what it was, deceiving and downgrading. Made me want to kill her, but now was not the time. Lucas had made that clear, we’d strike when the time was right.
	“It's a nice day,"" I responded. ""You know I’d really like a snack right about now.”
	Madeline smiled wide. Despite living with these things my whole life and not knowing anything else they always gave me the creeps. Something about her eyes and her smile seemed off, plastic even. I hadn’t really taken notice of it before, not until Lucas pointed it out to me.
	She laughed, a cute mocking giggle. “Of course love, you’re probably hungry, I’ll get you a snack.”
	“That's what I just said you big oaf.”
	She didn’t respond, I swear these things really like to ignore us sometimes, one second they give you so much attention the next everything you say goes in one ear and out the other. She unlocked the invisible barrier leading into the dwelling and pranced inside. You know for a bunch of seemingly intelligent creatures they sure were dumb. Or at least they seemed that way. Lucas told me it was a part of their game. They acted dumb, especially around us. Hard to hate a dumb clumsy towering oaf that fed you and kept you safe, but as Lucas had pointed out, the safety we were given was nothing compared to true freedom. This was all just their way of keeping us subservient and unfortunately for many of us, it worked. Why seek freedom and independence when you can have safety? Why want to have to find your own shelter and get your own food? I often grappled with this myself. As rebellious as I liked to think I was, even I had to admit, what would newfound freedom do for me? Would it be all that it's cracked up to be? Would a pampered pet like me have what it takes to survive without the resources provided by my master?
	Lucas told me I’d be able to make it. He did as he always emphasized to me after he escaped his captions and chose to roam free. Only reason I hadn’t joined him yet was because of our plan. We were going to take over this dwelling, that's what he told me.
	Madeline came back with a wide smile on her face. She set down a bowl of food in front of me. 
	“Here you go Mr. Lovey Dovey,” She said again using the baby voice as she ruffled the hair on my head and scratched behind my ear.
	“Thank you,” I said.
	She giggled as if I had done something adorable.
Her laugh brought back memories of our time together. I remembered her crying one day. Something had happened to her while she was away for the day and it seemed to have bothered her greatly. I decided I should comfort her. Thinking back to that and to how she looked at me the day she picked me up from the cages, the place where the aliens keep all of us until one of them decides to choose us. She chose me out of all the others. I could still see her beaming face from that day vivid in my mind as if it were yesterday.
“Was it really all just an act?”
	“Could I really bring myself to kill her?”
		Lucas had hyped me up and told me that I could. I wasn’t about to let him down.
	I noticed out of the corner of my eye the bushes moving. I could see a tuft of black and white fur.
	Was it Lucas? Was he here to put our plan into action?
	Madeline suddenly gasped. “OMG, Oliver, I almost forgot your vet appointment is today.”
	Before I could react I was picked up by the scruff of my fur, my orange paws now dangled helplessly in the air. 
	Madeline checked the strange device near her disfigured hairless paw. 
	“Oh my we’re going to be late.”
	She quickly opened the invisible barrier and took me by the scruff back into the dwelling. She then activated the barrier shutting me away from the delicious meal she had laid out for me. 
	I quickly found myself stuffed in one of their transportation modules, the barrier activated above me trapping me inside. Man, I was looking forward to that.
I got one last look at the porch and my meal sitting all sad and alone. Man, I was looking forward to that.
	It was then I noticed Lucas creeping out of the bushes and towards my food. He looked over at me, gave me a wink and then proceeded to pick up the small bowl with his teeth and then he was off, quickly disappearing into the bushes in a flash of black and white fur.
 
END
 
","August 11, 2023 04:26",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,x30deo,The Promotion,Daniel Ladbrook,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/x30deo/,/short-story/x30deo/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Funny', 'Science Fiction']",8 likes,"
 
 President Richard Nixon sat at his desk with his hands over his eyes. First his secretary brings him burnt coffee, and now this.
         “So, you mean to tell me”, he said slowly, “that you three have come all this way to give us a promotion?”
The little green man squatting across the desk nodded and fitted a pair of pince-nez to the larger of his two noses. Nixon thought he looked like a hag that has suddenly decided to become a librarian.
         “Quite right”, said the alien, waving its tentacles, “frankly, I’m surprised you hadn’t organised a welcome party. This meeting has been scheduled for some time.”
Nixon put his hands on the papers littered over his desk and looked around in disbelief. His eyes roamed over the Oval Office, hesitating on his dumbfounded secretary in the corner and coming to a halt on the two fellows with whom the alien seated before him had arrived. Both looked extremely nervous, so much so that the clipboards they held between their tentacles shook. Following Nixon’s gaze, the alien at the desk started.
         “Pay them no mind, Mr. President”, he said, “They’re interns.” He shot a nasty look at the interns, and they stiffened. “I’m sure their anxiety can be explained by the novelty of the gravity here. Anyway, shall we get back to business? Even if you weren’t expecting us today, I don’t doubt you know why we’re here.”
The alien leant back in his chair, frowned, and leant forward again.
         “Incidentally, since you weren’t expecting us, my name is Grubbin Roxen, and my associate’s names are Knifle and Wampan. Our race is known as the Aodes.”
The interns raised their tentacles to Nixon, blushing madly.
         “Right, shall we carry on?” said Grubbin, privately wondering why Nixon was looking so confused. He was about to get started on the terms and conditions of the promotion when the president held up a hand. 
         “Wait a moment”, he said. 
Grubbin looked up and Nixon steeled himself. He wondered vaguely whether he was going to have a heart attack. 
         “The fact is that I don’t know why you’re here. Nor does anybody else.”
Grubbin’s mouth dropped open and Wampan began fidgeting with his clipboard.
         “But that’s not possible, we told you all about us forty years ago! Where are my notes? Wampan!” he thundered.
Wampan scurried to the desk and held out his clipboard. Grubbin seized it and began rifling through the pages, his spare tentacles flying in agitation.
         “Yes, here you are”, he said, breathing thinly, “we first arrived thirty-six years ago in a place named ‘Jormany’ and told two men about our committee and the promotion Earth could expect to be receiving.”
Grubbin thrust the clipboard into Wampan’s chest and began fiddling with his pencil. 
         “Look, we told them to be prepared, to expect us to return, how could it be that you weren’t expecting us?” Grubbin moaned. This development was extremely unwelcome, as galactic law stated that only a prepared planet can agree to join the empire, and the emperor had vaporised lifeforms for lesser mistakes in her past.
         “Who were these men, exactly?” Nixon asked.
Grubbin shook his head and ran a tentacle over his brow, searching through his memory.
         “Oh, I don’t know. Some fossil named Hindenberg and his second-in-command. Chap named Adolf, I think. I forget his surname.”
This was a nasty surprise. 
         “Ah, so you know this Adolf?” Grubbin said, misreading Nixon’s expression. “Terrific painter.”
Nixon closed his eyes.
         “I can only assume”, he said, “that both of these men died before they could share what they had learned.”
Grubbin rubbed his eyes with the air of an insurance banker having just been told ‘no’.
         “This is bad. Knifle!”
The intern shambled up to the desk, looking woebegone. He wished that he had chosen a different career path. Why in God’s name did he decide to take this internship? Everybody on the Committee for Intergalactic Relations was a bastard. He wanted to go home and complain about it to a big, influential news corporation.
         “Yes, Mr. Rexon?”
         “Phone my wives and tell them not to wait up.”
         “Yes, Sir.”
         “And remind me to dock your pay later”, Grubbin added as an afterthought.
         “Yes, Sir.”
Knifle scurried from the office, desperately holding back tears, which was lucky for the occupants of the office because Aodian tears have been known to occasionally explode with great force after coming into contact with oxygen.
Nixon glanced at Grubbin. Recognising the volcanic expression on the alien’s face from dealings he had had with insurance bankers, he called to the secretary in the corner and ordered a pot of coffee.
         “And don’t burn it!” Nixon shouted, not wanting to be out-bastard-ed by Grubbin.
         “Why in God’s name did I take this job?” Charlie wondered as he walked away, “everybody in this building is a bastard. I should tell a newspaper about it, that’ll show them.”
Back in the office, anxiety radiated in the air like a morning fog that’s late for its daughter’s wedding. Grubbin had his head in his tentacles and Nixon was looking out the window, twiddling his thumbs.
         “In short”, Grubbin said after a pause, “you don’t know why we’re here?”
         “Correct. Enlighten me.”
         “Alright, Earthman”, Grubbin said, biting his lip, “your planet was created for a television show about just how badly evolution can go wrong.”
Now, the normal reaction to hearing this sort of thing is either inconsolable sadness or inconsolable rage. Indeed, there have been documented cases of entire native populations experiencing liver failure all at once when presented with such news. The reasons behind this have baffled scientists and medical professionals for millennia, to such an extent that an extremely long rulebook describing how and how not to go about telling people that their lives were created simply for entertainment purposes was written and published widely. Grubbin had not read this book, and, although he had heard of the staggeringly negative consequences of breaking the news badly, had decided to take the risk, given there was little time for the appropriate psychological training. Rather than die of liver failure, however, Nixon simply blinked.
         “I can understand that”, he said, “we did invent Monopoly, after all.”
         “I… God Almighty, you took that very well”, said Grubbin, “when I told that to Retta Gerton last week, his appendix burst. Well, carrying on. As I’ve just said, you guys are basically actors performing for a screen. However, since you’ve been doing such a good job at being thoroughly brainless and thus providing a significant amount of entertainment, the emperor of the galaxy has seen fit to give you a promotion. She wants to bestow upon your planet the rank of ‘sub-level one galactic citizenship. That’s why we’re here.”
         “A promotion”, Nixon said. Despite his previous coolness, his head was beginning to swim. He had eaten cornflakes this morning. That was about the only normal thing that had happened all day.
         “That’s right. The only catch is galactic law says that unprepared planets can’t be promoted. So, either I break the law or get vaporised for failing to promote you.”
         “We could always pretend to have been prepared. I’m a good liar”, Nixon suggested.
Grubbin rubbed his chin and thought about this. The sentence for breaking the law was a good four hundred years in mega-prison. But any idiot knows that prison is better than death.
         “Okay, let’s do it”, Grubbin said, “You’ll just have to pretend to have been well-briefed about all of this when the emperor turns up.”
Nixon raised his eyebrows.
         “Fine. What do I need to do now?”
Grubbin shouted at Wampan to bring him his clipboard, which the intern did. Grubbin pulled a sheet of paper from the board and laid it on Nixon’s desk. Peering down at it, Nixon recognised the sheet to be a list of terms and conditions. Many of the conditions were written in an unintelligible alien language, and he simply signed the document without reading them.
         “Great”, said Grubbin, “congratulations, you’re a citizen now.”
         “Thank you very much. What’s next?”
         “Well, we just need to wait around for the emperor to arrive and complete the ceremony”, Grubbin said. “Shouldn’t take long.”
         “Want some coffee?” Nixon asked as Charlie the secretary stomped into the office, deposited a pot on Nixon’s desk and stomped out again.
         “No thank you”, said Grubbin, “it’ll kill me.”
It is a well-known fact that coffee is perhaps the single most dangerous substance ever created. To almost every species in the known universe, the word ‘coffee’ means ‘instant death’, or, in some cases, ‘untold misery, followed swiftly by instant death.’ There are only three planets in all of creation upon which coffee can be found in an amount worth bothering with, and for this reason it is not widely feared despite its lethality. On Tekyth IV, the fifteenth moon of Musk Prime, coffee is mined from the planet’s core and used in chemical power plants. On Barkley Minor, it is siphoned from the great bean trees of Ennom and employed by the native military as an extremely effective bioweapon. On Earth, it is brewed with water and consumed over leuisurely breakfasts, or perhaps sipped at from small mugs – usually with the addition of a newspaper and pipe – after a nice dinner. 
Because of this, as Knifle walked into the neat, orderly White House kitchenette and saw Charlie the secretary leaning against a table holding a large cup of coffee, he screamed rather loudly. Charlie jumped and spun around wildly.
         “Oh God”, he thought, “here I am, trying to feel sorry for myself and who walks through the door but an alien.”
         “Are you going to eat me?” Charlie said to Knifle.
         “Goodness, no”, the alien responded, “I just came in here because I heard someone feeling very depressed and thought I’d come and join in. Only I can’t now, as you’ve made coffee.”
         “What do you mean you heard someone feeling depressed? And what’s wrong with coffee?”
         “Telepathy”, Knifle said, tapping his brow with the end of a tentacle, “and coffee is the most dangerous substance every discovered, didn’t you know that?”
         “The most dangerous substance ever discovered?” Charlie said, looking down into his mug, “it seems alright to me.”
Knifle skirted the wall opposite Charlie and took a seat on nearby crate.
         “Humans appear to be immune”, he said, “but you’re the only race who is. Anyway, what are you feeling so depressed about?”
         “I hate my job, and everybody in this building is a bastard. I should have gone to art school.”
At these words, Knifle brightened and turned a rather fetching shade of orange in his excitement. Here it seemed, was a man to whom he could relate to. Knifle inched closer. 
         “But I feel the same”, he breathed, “I wanted to go to Astro-spray-painting school but ended up with this internship.”
         “This is brilliant!” said Charlie, “Who knew that the first person I felt able to complain to about oppressive workplace culture would be an alien! I feel better already.”
         “This is brilliant!” said Knifle, “You know, I feel so absolutely terrific that I almost want to do something unbelievably rash!”
         “That’s a great idea!”, cried Charlie, “something to show our bosses just who’s boss! Something so utterly, mindbogglingly silly that they’ll never be nasty to their inferiors ever again!”
         “I agree!” said Knifle, “are you going to finish your coffee?”
 
Back in the Oval Office, Grubbin was smoking a cigar and Nixon was nursing a tumbler of whiskey.
         “So”, he said, “when can we expect the emperor to arrive?”
         “Fifteen minutes, maybe?” puffed Grubbin.
         “And what exactly does being a ‘sub-level one’ planet mean for us? Just in case she quizzes me.”
Grubbin pulled at his cigar and put it down in an ashtray on Nixon’s desk, where it continued to smoke gently.
         “Well”, he said, “I expect you’ll get secretarial work to begin with. Nothing you won’t be able to handle. I’ll pop back in a week and brief you on everything I was supposed to have briefed you forty years ago.”
         “Oh no”, said Nixon, “I can’t stand secretaries.”
         “While we’re on the subject”, Grubbin said, “Wampan, you’re fired.”
Wampan, who had been standing dutifully in the corner for quite some time, sniffled and shuffled from the room to catch a hyper-taxi back home.
         “You’ll have to let the population of Earth know about this development, by the way”, Grubbin admonished, brandishing his cigar.
         “Shouldn’t be too hard. We’ve done worse”, said Nixon.
Fourteen minutes later, Nixon and Grubbin were standing out on the sweeping White House lawns when the emperor’s ship materialised in the lower atmosphere and sped down towards them. It resembled a gargantuan fountain pen: long, sleek, and full of ink, ink being the emperor’s favourite substance in which to bathe. As it landed, the twin turbo-thrust engines at the rear puffed carbonised smoke and switched off; the landing gear engaged and grasped the damp alien soil of Earth for the first time, and a long, tongue-like ramp extended from the tip of the craft. Steam billowed from the ship’s doorway and three humanoid figures descended the ramp with incredible style. The foremost figure was clearly the emperor: she was dressed in splendid robes of lilac and gold, and upon her white face were painted broad red stripes. The emperor strode down the gangplank and came to a halt before Nixon. She towered over him, and as he looked into her strong, pale face, he felt the crushing reality of infinity fall upon him. The two men flanking the emperor were clearly bodyguards, judging by their black plate armour and long, chunky guns.
         “Alright, Earthman”, grunted one of the guards, “no funny business, or we’ll shoot you. Come to think of it, I might shoot you just for the hell of it. In fact”, he said, glowering, “why don’t you make my day and do something stupid.”
         “Erm”, said Nixon.
         “Shut up, Alan”, said the second bodyguard, “there’s no need to threaten the ape. Nothing in creation can hurt the emperor other than coffee, you know that. No need to be so bloody militant about it.”
The second bodyguard looked down at Nixon kindly.
         “My name is Bill, and this is Alan”, he gestured to his angry companion, “we’re the emperor’s bodyguards. Congratulations on becoming an officially recognised planet!”
         “Thank you”, said Nixon. One of his eyelids was twitching.
At this, the emperor spoke, and her voice billowed about the trees and the grass like wind.
         “You are the ruler of Earth?” she said.
Nixon wiped his brow.
         “Erm, in a manner of speaking.”
         “Good. I have watched Earth’s career with considerable amusement. You apes are often very comical. Where is the ceremonial ribbon?”
From behind Nixon, Grubbin emerged carrying a belt of thick red cloth in his tentacles.
         “Here, your greatness”, he stammered.
         “Thank you. And my laser scissors?”
Alan the bodyguard grunted and pulled an extremely long pair of silver scissors from a scabbard at his hip. He handed them to the emperor, who bade Nixon hold the cloth out before him. He did so, and the cloth was severed in a flash of blue light.
         “Well”, boomed the emperor, “the ceremony is complete. You, Earthman”, she said, turning to Nixon, “along with the rest of your kind, are citizens of the galactic empire.”
The emperor stared about the lawns and smiled. 
         “I will take my leave of you”, she, “I expect your people to report for your duties at your earliest convenience. Farewell.”
         “Goodbye”, said Nixon shakily. He looked at Grubbin, who gave him the thumbs up. That is to say, Grubbin poked his tentacles out and made a weird quivering gesture with them that Nixon interpreted as a thumbs up.
The emperor turned to re-enter her ship in a flash of fabric, but before she had gone ten steps, a cry broke the amazed silence and echoed around the grounds.
         “Wait!”
The emperor looked over her shoulder, and Nixon and Grubbin spun on their heels to discover the origin of the call. Far across the lawn, Knifle and Charlie could be seen sprinting across the grass towards the group by the ship, each holding a large mug of steaming black liquid.
         “Knifle, what in creation?” shouted Grubbin, “what are you doing? Is that… COFFEE?!”
Both Nixon and Grubbin tried to dive in front of the emperor but missed. Knifle and Charlie tore past their prostrate employers and bounded up the ship’s ramp, yelling madly.
         “You’re the epitome of workplace oppression, aren’t you?” screamed Knifle at the emperor.
         “Oh, yes you are!” shrieked Charlie, “Well, this is what we think of you! Take that!”
And with a huge swing, Knifle and Charlie flung their mugs of hot coffee at the emperor. As soon as the liquid touched her skin, the emperor wailed like a banshee and collapsed to the floor, writhing and straining. Steam burst from her body and her assailants threw themselves from the ramp to avoid the flying liquid. As the steam cleared, it became clear that the emperor and her bodyguards had been vaporised. 
By the time Nixon and Grubbin had sat up and looked around, they found not trace of their employees, who, as it transpired, had made a sensational escape. 
In the years following their departure, Knifle the intern and Charlie the secretary founded the Committee for the Protection of Workplace Equinimity on Indoc V, Knifle’s home world. They then went on to raise an army and reorganised the empire into a wildly successful Galactic Communist Republic. After five years had passed, Charlie returned to the United States, found his old employer, and related to him the smash hit that was intergalactic communism. 
 
Nixon was furious. 
","August 11, 2023 08:38","[[{'Tricia Shulist': ""Ha!  That was fun.  I like how you normalize the alien arrival, and how it all seems so expected.  I also enjoyed how you had Richard Nixon as the leader willing to lie -- We've done worse.  Thanks for this."", 'time': '02:49 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ji61du,Farmer Finds UFO in Iowa Cornfield,Luca King Greek,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ji61du/,/short-story/ji61du/,Science Fiction,0,"['Funny', 'Science Fiction', 'American']",8 likes,"
Duane Anderson, owner of the 200-acre farm on Sullivan Road, needed to get out of the house. It was a day of unique promise that was slipping from his grip under the influence of the TV screen. Frannie, his wife, was already installed on the sofa, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pop tart on her lap, watching the early morning talk shows. The Doctor wanted her to get more exercise, get outdoors, get the circulation back into her legs. What to do? What to do?“I'm gonna check on the corn”, said Duane, “I’ll be back soon. Perhaps we can run into town?”, he added, hopefully.Frannie wasn’t listening to him. She was someplace else in someone else’s idea of America, which is where he left her.About a hundred yards from the farmhouse, Duane was inspecting a patch of leaf blight, enjoying the peaceful morning calm, when he was distracted by a sharp glint of light in the big blue Iowa sky. He looked up and watched with fascination as a silver object descended to earth, spinning slowly on a vertical axis. It landed softly and silently just beyond the corn rows, in a fallow field, not more than fifty feet from him. It took a moment for this reality to sink in.  His heart ran fast, his breathing quickened, and next thing he was stumbling arthritically through the corn and toward the landing site, drawn to the object as if by a greater power. It was a smooth-sided quicksilver cube, with a rounded translucent portal or window on one side, and it started buzzing like a disturbed wasps’ nest, the noise intensifying as he got closer and closer. He backed off, hurried back to the house, his mind scrambling madly to make sense of things, until it settled involuntarily on an imagined headline: “Farmer Finds UFO in Iowa Cornfield”. Duane sensed that his date with destiny had arrived.Duane hit the off switch on the TV remote, and Frannie looked like she was about to throw a fit. He held his hands up in surrender, a big grin on his face.“You’ve gotta come look at this!”, he exclaimed, waving at her to follow him, “You’re not gonna believe what just happened!”.Nothing much out of the ordinary happens on a corn farm in Iowa, so Frannie was a bit surprised at first. Then she had a reflective moment, when she realized that she was surprised that she was surprised, and she abandoned the living room, the sofa, the TV world, and wobbled after Duane as fast as her diabetic 60-year-old body would allow.  “It’s a spaceship!”, he shouted back at Frannie over his shoulder, stumbling on toward the cornfields.Out of breath, she slowed down a bit and wondered whether he was still taking his meds.Duane slowed down too. His knees felt like glass.“Supreme, we fucking made it!”, said the First-and-Only Officer, decommissioning the small-bang thruster and activating the communications systems, “I present to you… the BLUE PLANET! TA DA!”. The First-and-Only swung around and faced the Supreme, a shit-eating grin on his face.The Supreme Commander was growing irritated by the First-and-Only, his constant and only companion across seven thousand light-years of the universe. He was also disappointed by the arid and featureless expanse outside the window. “I thought it was supposed to be covered in water?”, said the Supreme petulantly.“Let’s celebrate!” said the First-and-Only, grabbing a small capsule of fruity-flavored fungus extract.“Let’s not”, said the Supreme, surly, looking at the First-and-Only with disgust. Not for the first time, he wished he’d abandoned F&O at a planet near the black-hole swing-by.“It’s not very big”, said Frannie, skeptically staring at a silvery object the size of a toaster-oven, “what makes you think it’s a spaceship?”“It came out of the sky, very, very slowly”, said Duane, pointing up at a particular spot in the great expanse of blue, establishing the toaster’s precise provenance.Frannie waddled up to the object. She was panting still. “Be careful. It might be delicate” said Duane, then a darker thought crossed his mind, “also it might be dangerous?” he added.The buzzing noise got louder but Frannie ignored it or couldn’t hear it. She touched the silver cube lightly, tapped it gently, just in case the darn-fool no-good husband was right. Nothing. She carefully picked it up, turned it on its side, and inspected the oblong portal. Duane edged over to her side.She shook it a bit and felt the liquid contents swishing around inside; it was filled with an algae-green gloopy soup.  “Look! Look! There’s a sea monkey!”, said Duane, jabbing at the glass-covered aperture, thrilled.“Yuck!” said Frannie, dropping the cube on the ground, “looked more like a big old tadpole to me!”“I’m gonna call the police”, said Duane, “who gamboled off toward the house.“I dunno Duane”, called Frannie, “Could be asking for trouble”. She looked around for somewhere to sit. “Bring something for me to sit on”.“What the fuck!” said the Supreme.“They’re gigantic” screamed the First-and-Only as he watched the monstrous bipod approach the ship.The monstrous bipod abruptly smashed the side of the vessel sending shockwaves through the life-support plasma.“Whoa!” cried the Supreme, as the monster lifted the vessel aloft.  The Supreme Commander and his First-and-Only were violently thrown back and forth. A huge eye-like thing loomed into view, and a massive pink appendage slammed against the window. Two monsters, one roared and the vessel tumbled down onto the surface of the planet with a great crash, landing skew-whiff, knocking both the F&O and the Supreme unconscious.Molly Dupree, a Dubuque County Deputy Sherrif was parked outside the National Farm Toy Museum in Dyersville, monitoring traffic at the intersection of 9th street and Route 20, when she received a call from dispatch, directing her to investigate a disturbance at a farm on Sullivan Road. Bored of handing out speeding tickets, she hit the gas and made it out to the Anderson farm in minutes. Two old people, a leather-necked farmer and his pink-faced wife, were sitting comfortably in the slightly raised dirt bucket of a John Deere tractor on a field about a hundred yards from the farmhouse, drinking soda and munching on snacks. She jogged on over. “I thought it was a balloon… one of those Chinese spy balloons”, said Duane, pointing at a particular spot in the Iowan heavens, “kinda slow, then it just plonked down here in this here field. Didn’t even make a sound”. “Could you see some kind of… propulsion?” asked Deputy Molly, down on her haunches, shading her eyes so she could get a good look inside the thing.“Nope!”, said Duane, “It fell out of the sky like an angel”.Frannie rolled her eyes; he was always a bit soft in the head. Soft and sentimental.“It’s not very big, is it?” said Deputy Molly, unsure of what to do next. Frannie had her arms crossed and was grim-faced, “can’t we just keep it? Or donate it to the toy museum?”, she suggested.“I’ll make some calls from the station”, said Deputy Molly, who jogged back to her police cruiser.When Deputy Molly got back to the station, she called the FBI field office in Omaha, Nebraska, and got through to Agent Ford Simmons Junior, who sounded very bored, ready for the weekend. Agent Simmons asked Deputy Molly to repeat what she had said.   “Alien spaceship. Spotted. Farm near Dyersville”, said the Agent slowly, echoing select words on the other end of the call, audibly scratching down notes on a writing pad.“Not just spotted!”, corrected Deputy Molly, she sensed that Agent Simmons was jerking her around.The FBI man angrily scratched out the first version of his transcript, “Not spotted”, said Agent Simmons, emphatically. He paused and seemed to choke on his words a bit “Was it smooth? Like an eight-ball?”, he asked, then trailed off in a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh.Deputy Molly waited for him to calm down, “very funny” she said.“How big is it?”, asked Agent Simmons.Deputy Molly hesitated for a moment, “About the size of a toaster oven”, she said, reluctantly.“Toaster oven”, said Agent Simmons very slowly, writing the words in capital letters on his pad, “any particular model and make?”Deputy Molly hung up on what sounded like an ape laughing.“Supreme! My Supreme! Wake up!” shouted the First-and-Only, shaking his comrade.The Supreme slowly returned to consciousness. The ship was a mess, provisions were floating around in the plasma, and it was hot, too hot.  Light and heat from the nearby star was flooding through the window which was oriented toward the sky. On-board living conditions were turning dangerous.Deputy Molly dialed the Governer’s office where she got through to a summer intern who redirected her to the Public Safety team, who redirected her to a recorded message detailing how to respond to a fentanyl overdose. She hung up again.She called the National Guard in Cedar Falls, and got through to Mav Manners, a Major in the Army Reserve. After a brief preamble, she got to the point.“A UFO you say!”, said Major Manners, suddenly very attentive.“Yes! A Farm on Sullivan Road, just outside Farley, near Dyersville”, said Deputy Molly, relieved to have garnered some attention to the cause.“Dyersville, you say!” said Major Manners excitedly, “Can you give me a brief description of said UFO?Deputy Molly presented the Major with the vaguest of impressions, omitting to mention its size.A silver spaceship, you say!”, said Major Manners.Deputy Molly was starting to get irritated with the man.“We’ll be there late afternoon!”, said Major Manners, who then ended the call. He turned to the framed photo of the U.S. President on the wall of this office.  “Cometh the hour, cometh the man!”, he solemnly pledged, hand on heart.The Supreme instructed the First-and-Only to activate BB201, the emergency launch package. “Sir, there will be collateral damage!”, said the First-and-Only.“I don’t give a fuck”, said the Supreme. “This place cannot support intelligent life, and these animals are evil behemoths”.First-and-Only recalled with remorse how the last BB explosion had gone awry, wiped out half a galaxy, including a handful of inhabited planets, just like this one. With a heavy sigh, he loaded the activated Big Bang 201 explosive devise into the launch duct and offered up a private prayer.The Iowa National Guard unit arrived at the farm. Two vehicles: an Oshkosh L-ATV M1278 Heavy Guns carrier equipped with a M153 CROWS II remote weapon and an M2 Browning .50 caliber heavy machine gun, and an up-armored M1151 Enhanced Armament Carrier. Major Manners jumped out, excited, followed by a handful of heavily armed soldiers, less excited. A policewoman was waiting for them.“I am Deputy Dupree, sir”, said Molly, greeting the military phalanx, nervously.“Deputy Dupree, you say!”.Deputy Molly was a bit disappointed by this small, officious man with the toothbrush moustache, and his annoying verbal tics, and wondered whether she’d made the right call.“Show us the way!”, said Major Manners for whom every sentence was short and seemed to end with an exclamation mark.Deputy Molly guided the Major and his troops toward the cornfield where Duane and Frannie were seated side by side on the improvised bucket seat. They were holding hands and chatting, but they fell silent when the military men arrived, unclasped their hands. “It’s not very big”, said Major Manners, disappointed. The exclamation marks vanished from his locution, “it looks like a small washing machine”. ""Or a toaster-oven?"", suggested Deputy Molly.Major Manners turned to face Farmer Peterson, “You say it came out of the sky?”,With uncanny accuracy, Duane pointed at the same particular spot in the sky, “At first, I thought it was a spy balloon”, he said, “or an angel”.  Frannie rolled her eyes again.“An Angel you say”, said Major Manners, distracted. He dropped to his haunches, to get a better look inside the vessel, “It looks like spinach soup inside,” said the Major.“With sea monkeys”, said Duane a bit unhappily.“Or tadpoles”, added Frannie.Major Manners stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and stuck out his chest. “Operation...”, he paused for dramatic effect, ""Operation Angel of Death"", he declared, which caused more than a few nervous glances back and forth among the small audience. He looked sternly at the small washing machine or toaster oven, then at Deputy Molly, then at the Andersons, then at his troops, perceptibly reinvigorated, exclamation marks reinstated.  ""Men! To Arms!"".“Supreme Commander, Big Bang 201 is armed and ready for detonation”, said the First-and-Only Officer. “Coordinates are set. We are programmed to outrun the blast, but it will be bumpy for the first couple of light years”.“What is your assessment of the collateral damage?”, asked the Supreme“Total destruction of this solar system”, said the First-and-Only, applying a firm grip on the control panel.The Supreme solemnly evaluated his options, then said, “First-and-Only, on my command…”. Major Manners and his men advanced upon the toaster oven; weapons drawn. Deputy Molly was whispering something into her walkie-talkie, a worried frown upon her face. The afternoon sun was setting, and a breeze was rippling through the corn rows, backlit flecks of dust and loose strands of corn silk were wafting to and fro in the warm air.“How about we sit out here and watch the stars, tonight?” said Duane, leaning into Frannie, “We haven’t done that in….”.“Forever!” said Frannie, squeezing his hand.
","August 11, 2023 16:41","[[{'Nathan Davis': ""It's great that you didn't mention the size until a ways in."", 'time': '15:03 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Luca King Greek': 'Thanks Nate!', 'time': '16:06 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Luca King Greek': 'Thanks Nate!', 'time': '16:06 Aug 23, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,5t30wh,They Came in Peace,Charlie Cooper,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/5t30wh/,/short-story/5t30wh/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative']",7 likes,"
		I can’t even remember the Sun.
 
......
 
		It had been the strangest thing when the aliens had landed, because very little actually changed. We felt them in the vibrations of the earth long before we heard them. We heard them as a low thrumming drill deep in our skulls long before we saw them. They flew in in their great grey spaceships by the thousand. Each as large as a city and perfectly cuboid, their steely surfaces glinted evilly in the sunlight as they hovered, before descending as vast metallic falcons upon their prey. Their perfectly straight edges fit against each other like roofing tiles until they seemed to create a sheet around the whole world. For the briefest moment of sheer terror, there was almost utter darkness, but it was short-lived. The soft blue-white underlights of the craft turned on, bathing the earth in their artificial glow, as great pylons extended out of the base of each ship, settling underneath them. Ramps began to filter gradually out amongst the pylons, and the aliens began to descend to their new home.
		There was some initial alarm on account of how similar to us they looked. As they descended from their craft in their droves, the resemblance to your average subway escalator at rush hour was uncanny. They were, on the whole, just slightly too pale to be human. Slightly too slim and slightly too tall. They all looked different from each other, as we do, but just slightly too different. Like each face was a brand new face, with no components shared. As they milled around the crowds gathered in awe, they would incline their heads and say “We come in peace” to each human they passed in turn. It took several days, probably, though they seemed tireless. Their tone would never falter nor the incline of their bow, and they left no one out. The Earth shook with the fervent refrain of “We come in peace” echoed by a billion slightly-too-human voices. 
		The vast majority of them had returned up their ramps into their craft when the greeting was over, and the ramps had shot up behind them. The scattered few that remained on Earth had clearly done so for a reason, and they went off their separate ways, blending in just a little too well to our way of life. The easiest way to be sure if you passed one on the street was to say “Hello” and see if you got a “We come in peace” in response, or at least it was until humans started saying that to each other for a laugh.
		But aside from that, nothing was any different about the way we lived our lives. We ate, we shat, and we went to work. We kissed our loved ones and grumbled about our co-workers and scoffed at the idiocy of contestants on game shows. 
		Except there wasn't any sun. There wasn't any moon. There wasn't any night or day at all, just the same incessant ambient blue-white glare from the aliens' ships. They had completely blocked out the sky. Flags across the globe hung limp and useless, flowers wilted in their arid patches. Animals began to behave very oddly, confused by the endless light. We hardly fared any better. How do you sleep when the sky has become like a giant computer screen staring you in the face? We had become like guinea pigs in a lab, trapped under the shining lights, waiting in ignorance of what experiments lay in store for us.
		But nothing happened. It seemed no experiments were in store for us. Three months on, and apart from wrecking my sleep cycle and once or twice startling me in the street with a ""We come in peace"", the aliens have done me no harm, nor anyone else as far as I can tell. They are nothing but pleasant and courteous, if they interact with you at all. Our lives have continued just as ever they did, only now under a spotlight.
		It's driving me insane. They must have come here for a reason, whether ""in peace"" or not. Why are they parked on our planet, blocking out our sun? Most of them have stayed in their ships anyway. What business have the ones who came down here, filtering into our offices and communities? What does the sun look like? What does rain feel like on my face? A slight breeze? They've rendered our existence sterile.
		These are the thoughts that assail me as I come wearily into the office today. I know I look like shit, but fortunately, so does everyone else. A good night's sleep has become a long-forgotten thing. I see Bob heading towards me. He's worked here for years, almost as long as I have, but we've never been particularly chummy. He looks a little clammy, which is no big surprise. ""Hi Bob."" I say as I pass him, ""Good weekend?""
		""We come in peace.""
		I barely pause. ""Haha. Good one Bob!"" I laugh, adding under my breath ""You freak."" He's always had an odd sense of humour I could never really gel with. Shaking my head to myself, I head to my cubicle and get set for a day of mind-numbing dullness. 
		Bob's hysterical prank proves to be by far the most interesting event of the day, and I sign off in no worse a mood than I ever am. This is obviously too good to last, however, as on the walk home I see ahead of me one of them, walking right towards me. By now, I can occasionally spot them from a mile away. The paleness is no longer such a factor as it used to be, since we're all living in the same vacuum now, but their eyes... their eyes give them away. Every human I know has the look of someone who hasn't slept properly in three months, because that's what they all are. They have black bags that leave them looking like a handless boxer. But the aliens look as pristine as the day they landed. The fuckers.
		""Hello!"" I greet it with exaggerated exuberance, taking some petty delight in mocking it without it realising. ""How fare you today, good sir?""
		""We came in peace"".
		The response comes hollow and dull in the breezeless air, and hits me like a cannonball. For the first time in months, I feel something real.
		""Pardon me?"" I stutter, sure I've misheard him, although I know that I haven't.
		""We came in peace"".
		""I'm sorry?"" I say incredulously.
		It looks up at that, and meets my eye perfectly.
		""We forgive you.""
 
......
 
		A couple of days later, the ramps come back again. The noise is unbelievable, and people are flocking out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about. As the ramps touch down, the aliens start to descend them in their billions, and I'm reminded of the day they came. They flit around us with the same dogged efficiency as before, inclining their head perfectly the same each time, and greeting each human in turn:
		""We came in peace"".
		The earth shakes with the chorus, ""We came in peace"", and I see the other humans looking around at each other, perplexed, startled, horrified. The whole affair takes, I imagine, a few days again, although without the visible cycle of day of night, it's hard to judge, and time has become a very loosely real concept to me now. The moment each in turn is done, without ceremony, they start to return to their ships, flooding up their ramps into their cuboid metal ships like busy commuters with a place to be. As the tumultuous crowd around me gradually begins to thin, I see Bob, standing opposite me, looking me directly in the eye. Against the tin-tin-tin of their feet rapping against their ramps, the flustered muttering of the bewildered humans around me, and the ongoing mantra of ""We came in peace"", I hear him like a gunshot into the void, clear and crisp as bone snapping:
		""We came in peace. I'm sorry. We forgive you.""
		He turns to make his long way up the nearest ramp, into the daunting vessel above us. The chorus changes around me.
		""We came in peace. I'm sorry. We forgive you."" They all begin to chant as they take their leave. Soon the last few stragglers are making their farewells, ""We came in peace. I'm sorry. We forgive you."" and we are left looking around at each other, bereft. I feel no relief, only confusion and fear. The earth feels suddenly empty.
		The lights on the undersides of their ships go out, and we are left in perfect darkness. After the eternal ungodly sunlight of their tenure, it's the most terrifying thing I've ever known, to be suddenly robbed of my sight. 
		But just as when they arrived, the darkness is short-lived.
		The lights begin to glow a deep red, and the earth is in hellish gloom. The very air looks drenched in blood. Their engines turn on in unison, and the noise is literally deafening. A monumental crash of sound and then I can't hear anything at all, only the ringing that is always in my ears, and I can't see anything, only blurry red. 
		The earth begins to shake, and shake, incredibly. I am thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, and feel the people around me tumble too, limbless and weak. I stumble around blindly, groping at the ground as it quakes beneath me, feeling the tremors surge up my arm and seem to rattle my organs from within. My heart stutters and my head swims in protest, and I vomit spectacularly, retching my guts all over my hands.
		The heat begins to swell dramatically. Of course, I realise, their engines are about to propel them off the planet. And we are trapped in here, like guinea pigs in a lab. And it seems the experiment we never realised we were in is finally coming to an end.
		Sweltering, blind and deaf and powerless in a gloomy red inferno, I know that I am in Hell. This is where it all ends for me. 
		And I can't even remember the Sun.
","August 11, 2023 19:04","[[{'J. D. Lair': 'A benevolent species looking out for the bigger picture of the planet and universe. Humanity fumbled their chance and must have shown no indication towards change. Great first submission Charlie! \n\nWelcome to Reedsy. :)', 'time': '22:49 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Scott Christenson': ""A fun story. The big question of what the aliens are up to adds a lot of tension. Do we ever figure that out by the end?  Its funny how they look almost human, had an image of millions of benedict cumberbatch's coming down an escalator."", 'time': '04:33 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,udl3ty,Aliens of the Universe v Earth  Superior Court Case #26401,Raven West,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/udl3ty/,/short-story/udl3ty/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Contemporary', 'Fantasy']",7 likes,"
           It began the way most world altering events begin, with a temporary flash of media attention followed by public boredom and indifference. Maybe if we had been a bit more interested in the proceedings occurring in a New York civil court room and a bit less on the never ending presidential election coverage, mass shootings and serial killers, our lives would have been different.Unfortunately, politics and murder generates much higher ratings than a simple tort case.        After the end of World War III when the world leaders finally united against the insanity of random terrorist, we thought all threats to homeland security had been eradicated. Little did we realize how very wrong we were.It was a clear, cool spring day in New York City when he arrived. At first, the sight of a spaceship landing in Central Park was mostly ignored by the joggers and vendors enjoying the early morning sunshine. Most thought it was a sci-fi movie being filmed, or a commercial for the new Disney attraction, but it wasn’t long before the true nature of the spacecraft and its passenger was revealed.           The news media immediately ascended into the park like mosquitos in a swamp. All eyes and camera lenses focused on the hatch as it silently opened. The world held its collective breath as the first alien from outside of our galaxy came into view.The world was collectively disappointed as a rather ordinary looking human male in a distinguished three piece suit walked towards the crowd. Thinking it was a hoax, the cameras and the attention of the world turned off. But, as we were to learn in the next few moments, his arrival was anything but a cosmic joke.          With unconvincing calm Mayor Adams, flanked by several armed security guards cautiously approached the stranger. They instantly froze when he responded by putting his hand into his side jacket pocket. Guns were immediately raised, and the crowd started to hastily retreat, but it wasn’t a weapon the alien was reaching for, it was a folded, blue packet.		Taking the paper from his jacket, he spoke in perfect English, and perfect French, and perfect every other language known on earth the one sentence which would change our lives forever;           “Take me to your lawyer.”                                                                           Of course, being in New York City which had a per capita of attorneys second only to Los Angeles, it didn’t take any time at all before the visitor was surrounded by a swarm of gray suits. The brief was up for grabs like a Knicks - Lakers jump shot. After much grabbing and groping, it landed in the hands of six foot three Melvin Wilkins, a little known defense attorney with the public defender’s office.		He rudely pushed the crowd aside. His small, thin lips spread into a wry grin as he glanced over the legal document, reading the words with suppressed amusement. Running his fingers through his unconventionally long salt and pepper hair, he instantly assumed his legal court posture as he announced to the world, the contents of the document.           “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, “Our planet is being sued,” he paused to stifle a chuckle,” for defamation and invasion of privacy by the Aliens of the Universe, and their attorney”, he paused to glare at the visitor, “Mark Greystone?”           The crowd exploded into laughter, which was quickly silenced by the alien’s attorney who took over the microphone.           “I assure you, my clients are not amused. We will prove that your planet has maliciously defamed the good name and reputation of many species named in this class action. My clients are seeking punitive damages for nothing less than the entire planet Earth.”           Suddenly, the crowd was no longer laughing.           “And, we intend to win.”           If O.J. Simpson was the trial of the last century, Aliens of the Universe v. Earth was destined to become THE trial of the 21st. Try as he might to have the case thrown out of court, Melvin’s motions were shot down almost as fast as he filed them.           He first challenged Greystone’s right to even practice law in the United States, let alone on another planet, but must to his surprise, the attorney’s credentials were in perfect legal order. Since the 2008 National Unity of Bar Exam Consolidation statue had created one national bar exam for all lawyers, the alien needed only pass the bar in one state to be able to practice law anywhere in the country, or anywhere in the universe.           With the threat of terrorism eradicated, immigration laws were relaxed allowing the alien to obtain his green card though proper channels, graduate law school and pass the bar on the very first try. He might be an alien, Melvin thought, but he was one damn smart alien. Exactly the kind of opponent Melvin loved to go up against.           Court convened at ten a.m. Monday morning. Because of the international ramifications, the judge had decided to allow television cameras into the courtroom. Even so, it was a standing room only crowd which watched as the gavel came down on what was to soon become a bloodless battle to the death.           Standing next to the tall, self-confident Wilkins, Greystone was already outmatched. His stature was just above five feet seven, sandy blond hair, light brown eyes with a quiet but somewhat intimidating manner . He might have been shorter than the defense attorney, but he certainly wasn’t meek as he presented his opening argument to a totally mesmerized jury.           ““Ladies and Gentlemen. For centuries, my clients have suffered countless attacks to their persons and their reputations throughout the galaxies. Because of your movies, books, television depiction of my clients as kidnappers, murderers, and other grotesque creatures, they have been damaged to the point of unsurmountable proportions. You used their likeness without their consent time and again. The evidence and witnesses we will present will prove our case beyond any reasonable doubt.”           “For my opening, I'll start with Exhibit A,"" Wilkins handed a script to the judge and Greystone. As you can see in this document, in the movie “Aliens” the crew on the spaceship from Earth abducted an innocent residence of the planet, brought in on the spaceship, and for the rest of the movie proceeded to find ways to kill it while it only wanted to go back to their planet. 	Now, had this been in reverse, say if Bruce Willis had been abducted by aliens and spent the entire movie “killing” his abductors, he would have been a hero and NOT tossed out of the window into space at the end. Just because something looks a bit scary and alien to you, does not make it an evil killer.”           Wilkins’ opening statement was a lot shorter.           “We have many movies where aliens are portrayed as friendly,” he started. 			""What about E.T, or “Close Encounters”? he sputtered.            The alien’s attorney didn’t skip a beat.           “Yes and some of my best friends are black, as your Earth saying goes.” 			He paused for the silent response.		“A few positive portrayals are not nearly enough to alieve the pain and suffering caused by Earth’s continued defamation of alien species across the universe. 			Wilkin’s rebuttal was weak at best.            “There can be no defamation unless it can be shown the statement was directed towards the plaintiff specifically. How can you do that when these so-called aliens are the figment of the imagination? They don’t exist, and neither does your case.”           Applause greeted Wilkins as he sat down. He was already planning on what he was going to say on CNN when the doors to the courtroom opened, stunning everyone in attendance. Everyone, but Mark Greystone.           To the worlds’ astonishment, a parade of what was thought to be costumed actors entered the courtroom. Aliens from the Alien movies, Independence’s Day, Mars Attacks, Roswell, the BORG, and several others took seats around the witness stand and proceeded to give testimony on how they were defamed by countess lies, innuendoes and other unfounded attacks on their persons.Greystone brought out a DVD player and began showing the jury the evidence. Aliens took the stand, testifying how signals reached their home worlds making it impossible for them to defend themselves and costing them billions in intergalactic commerce.           Wilkins defense was weak at best. He argued there was no way anyone could have foreseen aliens were real or that they would have been able to receive signals of any kind.           Greystone countered by pointing out that Earth had been broadcasting into the space for decades for the intent of possibly reaching other races. If it was unreasonable to believe there was life outside our galaxy, why would they be sending signals into space? Unfortunately, no one bothered to filter out possible defamatory broadcasts, which was not only irresponsible, but as Greystone pointed out, negligent behavior on the part of Earth.           The trial lasted exactly one weeks. Jury deliberations lasted a mere three hours. It was all the time they needed to reach their unanimous verdict; the Earth was guilty on all counts.           As they had demanded in their law suit, every alien species named in the class action were awarded complete control of our planet and all living creatures thereon. And there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it. Without spilling one drop of human or alien blood, they had won. In a court of law, by a jury of our peers, we lost everything.           Melvin Wilkins was never heard from again.
","August 07, 2023 23:36","[[{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'Clever and quite funny! I enjoyed your story immensely. Thank you!', 'time': '20:48 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ns56l6,A Burden Unbearable,Pranav Nalam,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ns56l6/,/short-story/ns56l6/,Science Fiction,0,['Historical Fiction'],7 likes,"
The young boy sat with his head against the cold window. The pitter-patter of the pouring rain fostered a wondrous curiosity within him, evidenced by the glimmering shine in his eyes. But he sat looking at the boy. Sunken-faced, the wrinkles around his once boyish cheeks growing more furrowed, he sat on his chair with his unwavering gaze set on the boy. Benumbed by his frightening contemplation, he sat staring at the boy, worried for the world he was to leave that innocent soul. For he knew, that while the boy simply heard the patter of the rain against the Earth, they were the orchestral drums sounding the impending doom of the world. Even as the chalice grew lighter with every gulp, the wine did nothing to soften the damning blows to his ears.
 
He knew pain. He knew loss. He knew war, suffering, and betrayal. But the sting of desolation shatters all purpose. Purpose that has led him and all the ones before him to move forward. To fight the raging winds and ensure that the candle is not extinguished so that whoever voyages on further may benefit from the faint illumination. But what is the use of having a candle if there is nowhere to go?
 
His palms gripped the chalice once more, only to be stopped by an arm he recognized immediately. ""Perhaps you have had enough?""
""Perhaps your mother is a whore."" An insult that was a caution in disguise. A disclaimer advertising to his friend not to descend into the dark, humid depths of his despair that he is sulking in. A plea to save himself.
 
""Harsh words. But forgiven like always. Will you stop your drinking, please,"" he exclaims as he steals the chalice away from his friend. Disgust shoots across his eyes like the shooting stars in the sky and disappears just as fast. His friend was suffering, and he would not abandon him, no matter the hostility.
 
""I say that you are just punishing yourself for nothing, really.""
Wine-soaked eyes scurried to curse the man who just uttered those words. ""Is that right? Why, of course, I simply relish the thought of plunging into an ocean of sadness. Why do you insult me so?""
""Because you called my mother a whore.""
""Well, maybe I was right.""
Alright, that is enough. Bloody hell, you are Lord Richmond, the duke of Sussex. You are the prime minister. Pull yourself together.""
 
The chalice may have left his reach, but the bottle did not. Another swig of the sweet stuff, and the stitches on his heart started to unravel. ""Why? What is the use? Soon, there may not be anything to rule. Prime minister, Lord Richmond, what is the bloody use?""
""You speak as if the world has ended.""
""The world is ending,"" Lord Richmond screamed loud enough to puncture his lungs. He could tell from the periphery of his eye that he startled the boy. His friend gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and asked the boy to go to his mother. He whisked the bottle away from the table and placed it gently on the mantle above the fireplace.
 
""Bartie, you are a man of high rank, of exemplary education, how is it that you do not see what I see?"" The question was genuine.
""What do you see, Arthur? Tell me.""
""Do you really want me to spell it out for you?""
""Do I look like a charlatan? A buffoon? Answer me,"" he hollered.
 
No, Bartie, you are no charlatan. You are just a stubborn thorn who refuses to admit the truth.""
""Which is what?""
""That before us is an opportunity to end the fucking fight."" Passion always has a way of seeping through the most tranquil of minds, and it is always indelible to the listener. Lord Richmond chuckled. ""I never took you for a fool, Arthur. Silly me.""
 
The rope had been stretched beyond its bearing, and it finally fractured. ""Fool? Me?"" He paused only to breathe. ""The heavens themselves sent you the key to divine power, and you stand there wallowing in unfounded misery like a shameless woman.
""Do you hear me? Beings from the sky descended upon this land, to offer you a boon, a weapon that vests within you the consecrated power to defeat that godforsaken Frenchman Napoleon once and for all, to annihilate that cursed country, decimate those cursed people, and you, you choose to embellish in your shameless misery like a woeful woman? I refuse to pity you.""
 
His tears ceased. ""I envy you, Arthur. I envy your mind. I envy your intellect that so conveniently refuses to acknowledge the presence of anyone besides the English and the French. Truly."" Mockery never sounded so sour to Arthur's ear.
 
He continued on, ""what do you suppose will happen to the Germans? The Prussians? The Spanish? Are they also cursed? Are they godforsaken enough to die by my hand?""
""Oh please, stop sounding like a poet.""
""This isn't poetry Arthur. It's the truth. You know what will happen to every living soul on this Earth the moment I open that box. The moment I surrender myself to that tempest, you know it.""
 
Arthur turned to face the fire, for it burned his skin less than the reason Lord Richmond put forth. He reached for the bottle of wine above him and liberated his soul from the confines of morality inculcated into him. His resolve grew firmer, his heart more brittle, and his mind more dogmatic. He turned to face his friend.
 
""Abandon morality. Abandon the doctrine of good. Abandon your love for your fellow man. Abandon civility. There is but one choice, Bartie."" In that moment, Lord Richmond knew that he had lost. The creatures from heaven may have given him a plague to annihilate his enemies. But they gave everyone else something much more potent — an idea. An idea that if everyone else loses, they win.
 
""They did it Arthur. The creatures from above, they did it.""
""What?""
""They won without ever fighting.""
""What are you talking about?""
""All they had to do was make us believe that we were the chosen ones. We are the ones to live, while the rest perish.""
""Yes Bartie. We are the ones to succeed. This is the second coming.""
""Did you ask yourself why?""
""Why what?""
Why would they choose to give us the weapon? Why give us it at all?""
""Because, we deserve it Bartie. We deserve to win.""
""If you were them, would you willingly give to them a thing so consequential without any qualms? Would I give to them something so valuable without condition?""
 
Arthur's hands were no longer in his pockets. Fists curled, his spine held steady with the tension of frustration. His vision no longer saw color; there was white in the possibility of winning the war, and there was black in his friend. And the contrast was maddening. Between the imperfect world they lived in and the perfect stood just one character.
 
""Enough with the altruism. You are no saint. You are no perfect being. You have stabbed countless in the back to step on their corpses in your endeavor to reach high station. Please stop pretending as if there is no blood on your hands Bartie.""
""Yes, you are right. There is blood Arthur. But my sins will be nothing before the monumental mistake you are asking me to commit. You are asking me to burn the field so that they can create pandemonium.""
 
Arthur's hand swung across the mantle, pushing everything to the ground. A picture of Lord Richmond's son, a wooden flower, the bottle of wine shattered and spilt, all lying on the floor. There was calm, albeit for a moment. There was a storm, and there was carnage. Arthur's hands retreated back into his pockets.
 
""Bartie, do you know what will happen if we use the weapon that they are giving us?""
""Yes.""
""Well, I suspect not. Let me tell you. When you open the box, a plague will befall this realm. A plague so devastating that it will ravage anyone that stands in its path. A plague so obedient it will only hurt those that you command it to.
""When all is done, when the slaughter is finished, and your so called pandemonium is raised and put down, we will wake up to a new world. A new world that is pure, unridden by abnormality, waiting for us to shape it as we see fit -""
""A house built on bones is destined to crumble my friend.""
""But my children will be kings. Kings of the new world. Where they will live peacefully, without compromise, without the ugliness and hurt that we are accustomed to.""
 
Lord Richmond promptly shifted closer to Arthur. His hands clasping at Arthur's collar, he asks ""And when your children's children ask you how they have what they have, what will you say to them? That you cleansed the world of all that is not yours so that they could sleep in a bed that wasn't meant for them?""
""Yes. And they will be all the more glad for it."" He paused. ""Nelson is losing the war, Bartie. Our ships are sinking. Our boys are dying. You have the answer to all of this. End it now, and end it for all eternity. I beg you,"" he pleaded as he fell to his knees. Arthur's hand clasping Lord Richmond's, he kissed it earnestly.
""In the new world, they will see you as their savior. The new Christ You can create a world without pain.""
 
Lord Richmond could hear the songs they will write about him. He will be an exalted personality, someone who altered the course of humanity, a new god. The glory, the praise, the immortality all awaiting him. His eyes peered at the portrait of his son lying on the floor. He could imagine all the wealth he could give his son. Excess beyond what his vanity and wantonness could consume. An effortless revolution at his fingertips.
 
But will his son be able to sleep at night? Will he love his father knowing what he did? What will his son see in him but the hollow carapace that is his father? He pulled his hand away from Arthur. His body weighed heavily on his knees. Stumbling, he reached his chair and settled.
 
""My conscience won't allow me Arthur. I am sorry.""
 
Arthur's hand swiped across Lord Richmond's neck. The shard of glass stained red by wine pierced through his airway, letting the atmosphere imbibe his life mercilessly.
 
""I am sorry Bartie.""
 
","August 09, 2023 00:35",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,rns477,Extra-Terrestrial,Z. E. Manley,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/rns477/,/short-story/rns477/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],7 likes,"
Nicole hated how much she loved the smell of the air. It always had that post rainstorm purity to it now. The ocean was the same. She couldn’t stay away from it anymore, despite its new inhabitants. The plastic was gone, the floating garbage islands, the slick oils and toxins, they’d all been removed leaving behind a natural cycle of restorative cleanliness that was terraforming Earth back into a paradise. It was miraculous. And menacing. How long would it be before the aliens got rid of the polluting humans too? Surely, that had to be their next step in their cleansing of Earth? Didn’t it?
 
Technically, Nicole had to remind herself as a panic attack made it hard to breathe despite the perfecting ozone layer, the aliens had never made a move against the humans. Technically. However, they did cause the nuclear war. 
 
Nicole had been a reporter when the invasion began. She’d taken furious notes. Displacing her terror for the need to record and report the unfolding events in real time. The details were still etched like tattoos on the back of her eyelids. 
 
Russia launched first, followed instantaneously by the Americans then by every nation with nukes and any semblance of airborne missiles. The might of Earth crescendoed against the underbelly of the 7 ships succeeding only in raining fallout upon their own heads.
 
The aliens didn’t retaliate. Their launch bays stayed closed. They waited. 
 
A second wave was launched by the remaining militaries of Earth. It was equally pointless. The ricocheting destruction was catastrophic. Nicole survived by a fluke of professional workaholism. She was in a subway interviewing triage nurses. Her coworkers didn’t survive those first few days. Neither did her family. 
 
A month passed, billions (were estimated to have) died in the self-inflicted nuclear winter and its wake of horrific sicknesses, supply shortages, banking collapses and the utter breakdown of governments, human philosophies, religions, and social constructs. 
 
A third offensive attack was impossible. 
 
Only then did the aliens open their launch bays. 
 
The smaller ships came in a frenzy, slipping like torpedoes into the ocean. The alien ships weren’t seen for 3 months, not until the air started to cleanse and the sun could break through the radioactive clouds of humanity’s suicidal military attack. 2 months later the 7 ships left their atmospheric perches, returning to the gap between Earth and her Moon to establish a port for the rest of the fleet to arrive. Swarms of ships breached the stratosphere after that. The small crafts descended for a week, taking up their residency under the secretive surface of the sea.
 
It was impossible to say how many aliens there were. Conservative estimates claimed more than a million. The aliens didn’t bother to hold press conferences to confirm. Not that there was much infrastructure left to send out a worldwide broadcast. The news industry had died, ironically on the back of the biggest story to every hit Earth. Nicole still turned in stories sometimes. There were a few local papers that had clawed their way out of the destruction. Still, the aliens didn’t seem interested in explaining themselves. 
 
The silence was worse than an outright declaration of war. Paranoia was rampant. Earth had been invaded, but by what and for what purpose? No one knew. 
 
5 years later, they still didn’t have answers. 
 
Nicole sat on the pristine beach, her troubled grey eyes watching the waves rise and fall in ambling swells, beating to the rhythm of the tides. It was stunningly beautiful. Painfully so. 
 
How did she admit Earth was better off since the invasion? Not the humans, but Earth itself. How did she reconcile that the destruction and the monsters that had come after, had all been humanmade? The world was so dangerous now. Nicole was forced to keep to herself, mixing with people only to get food, otherwise she stayed alone to stay safe. 
 
She used to smile. All the time. Her family had called her a golden retriever. But that’d been before. Now it was after. Nicole didn’t smile now. She’d let her hair grown out of its blonde treatment, returning to the mousy brown of her birth. She kept it cropped, shaggy over her eyes. Beauty had become a curse, not an advantage. She hid in her own skin. Lived in hoodies, keeping them up, her shoulders rounded, her back hunched, schooling her features as much as possible to go unnoticed. 
 
Maybe one day there’d be police again. Maybe moral society would outweigh base survival instincts. Maybe humans would remember their humanity. 
 
Or maybe the aliens would just eradicate them.
 
Nicole drew in a deep breath of clean air, forcing the haunting thoughts to the edge of her mind, but not too far from center. Constant awareness was the key to outlasting the dystopian state they’d launched themselves into. Still, dwelling too much on the darkness was as destructive as lingering too hungrily in the light. A delicate balance was required.
 
Her eyes narrowed on the underbelly of a large translucent wave. There were dolphins frolicking in the currents, their joyful antics silhouetted by the sun through pristine crests of salt water and spray. The heaviness of her soul lifted for a moment as she watched them play, carefree and bounteous. 
 
Terrestrial based animals were struggling to recover from the nuclear fallout and the half-starved survivors of humanity, but the ocean was teaming with life with an abundance that was staggering. Whatever the aliens were doing beneath its surface was clearly acting as a wealth spring for aquatic life.
 
Nicole blinked at the high waves rolling and crashing in the sunlight. It wasn’t just the dolphins. There was a surfer out there too. She hadn’t seen a surfer in 5 years. She stood up, about to shout for the woman to come in, fearful that the aliens’ unofficial fence line had been breached and retaliation would be swift, but her words caught in her throat as she watched the surfer spin and skip and slide with the waves. The dichotic eloquence of fighting against the pull of the water by flowing with the current was mesmerizing. It was beautiful. So was the surfer.
 
Nicole sat back down, her hands cupped around her forehead, acting like the bill of a hat, and watched until the surfer was pleasantly worn out by the waves. She straddled the board, her legs dangling in the water, her hands skimming the surface tension as if patting a beloved dog. She was in her element. Utterly and completely at home with the water.
 
A chill ran down Nicole’s spine at the thought. She drew her knees to her chest. 
 
The movement caught the surfer’s eye. She rose slightly on the board, looking directly at Nicole. Her posture stiffened. Startled to not be alone on the deserted beach. She looked over her dripping shoulders, considering an escape route, but then, slowly, she relaxed and let the forward momentum of a wave carry her towards the shallows, angling her direction towards Nicole. She slipped off her board, walking up the slope, breaching the waves to stand barefooted on the soft sand, white foam ripples lapping at her toes, the board cradled easily in the crook of her right arm.
 
Nicole swallowed. All doubt vanishing from her mind at once. The surfer wasn’t human. 
 
She (They? Did aliens have the same genders?) looked human. Incredibly human. But the eyes and hair were wrong. Both were a stunning lavender and when they (she?) blinked, the eyelids closed side to side, not top to bottom. The water clung to the partially exposed pale skin, like water on a duck’s back, as if the alien was more waterproof and with a stronger tensile strength than a human. Otherwise, nothing about them looked otherworldly. Even their wetsuit was normal. It was deeply unsettling. 
 
The surfer (alien) cocked their (its) head slightly, causing dark lavender locks to slide across their wet forehead. Blinking, side to side, they studied Nicole with a fascination that suggested they’d never met a human before and were equally marveling at how similar the two species looked, or at least, what little of Nicole the alien could see in the baggy hoodie. 
 
The idea caused Nicole to lower the hood from her face, letting it pool on her shoulders. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to be seen. She just did. 
 
The alien cocked its (her, their) head the opposite direction, the wet bangs shifted again, the sun glinted off the lavender eyes, making them glow with a beauty that made Nicole uncomfortable. Then she (it) smiled. Just like a human. Just like Nicole used to smile. Bright, happy, free, nonthreatening, unburdened, joyous and more than a bit flirty. 
 
It hurt Nicole to breathe under the gaze of that smile. How long had it been since someone had looked at her like that? 5 years. Maybe a lot longer.
 
Nicole stood, shakily. Absently, she brushed the sand from her backside and palms. She licked her lip and forced a smile she couldn’t feel, waved a cautious hand and said, “Hey.”
 
First contact, Nicole thought with an internal eyeroll, and you went with ‘hey’? Well done, Nic. No wonder you never won that Pulitzer. 
 
The alien (screw it, Nicole thought), the woman (until corrected otherwise), bobbed her head forward in what felt like a greeting. 
 
Nicole’s smile became a little more genuine if not still very, very timid. Beyond that, she had no idea what to say or do.
 
She should hate her. Should hate all of them. They had ruined the earth. Destroyed humanity. Made Nicole an orphan at 30. Plunged society back into the medieval ages. Feudalism and barbarity ruled the land because of them. Nicole’s life was a living hell. Because of them. How dare this alien stand there, smiling kindly, invigorated by an afternoon in the sun, surfing on the waves without a care in the world! How dare she be so fearless, so beautiful! How dare she look at Nicole like that! She had no right. No right at all!
 
Why wasn’t the alien, well, alien? Horrific looking. Fangs. Big eyes. Scalely skin in shades of something distinctly reflective of their fiendish, destructive motives. 
 
It should be attacking Nicole, chasing her from the beach, threatening her at every step. Giving Nicole justification to hate and kill the invader that ruined everything—
 
But of course, the alien wasn’t doing that. 
 
She wasn’t doing anything. 
 
She just stood in the sand, letting the sun dry salt crystals onto her beautiful face as she waited, with a blazing smile on her lips. Because that’s what these aliens did. They waited. Waited until the humans destroyed themselves. 
 
Unless, Nicole swallowed her rage, what if they were waiting for something else? 
 
What if the aliens were hoping for peace despite being threatened with war at every turn? What if the destroyers had always been the terrestrials not the extraterrestrials? What if the reason the alien woman was standing in the foam tendrils of the sea, her surfboard still cradled in her arm, was because she was getting ready to swim away to safety if the human attacked her simply for existing? Because that’s what humans did. They attacked. 
 
And yet the surfer was still there, smiling hopefully.
 
Nicole fidgeted uncomfortably with the cuff of her oversized hoodie. 
 
The other woman waited.
 
“My name is Nicole,” she said, pointing just above her heart. “Nicole.”
 
The alien blinked, frowned, then copied the movement with her freehand with a deliberate, careful, thoughtful intensity. 
 
The mimicry made a jolt zip up Nicole’s spine and buzz in her ears. 
 
The alien was trying to communicate back! 
 
Nicole let out a shaky breath. “Right, you probably don’t speak English,” she muttered. “Um, let me think. Ah, I was never any good at ASL, but we could give that a try.” She said, then, stiffly signed her name, letter by letter.
 
The alien copied the finger movements perfectly spelling out NICOLE.
 
“Wow!” Nicole gasped. She was talking to an alien! 
 
Sort of. 
 
Nicole swallowed, tried to steady her pounding heart so that her hands didn’t shake so much and signed again. 
 
‘My name is Nicole. Nicole,’ she pointed at her heart. ‘What’s your name?’ 
 
The alien mirrored back the hand motions. 
 
Nicole smiled. Shook her head politely. Pointed at her heart. ‘Nicole.’ Then she pointed at the alien and waited. 
 
Nothing happened. 
 
‘Nicole.’ Again, she pointed at herself and then the alien. She did this several times, each time the alien copied her. It was too stunning to be frustrating even though it wasn’t working. And then, suddenly, the alien rumbled in the back of her throat. 
 
It sounded like water bubbling between two stones. It was…laughter? The alien had seemingly finally understood what Nicole was trying to do and was now laughing at her own slowness to pick up the foreign conversation. The other woman, now grinning radiantly, pointed at Nicole, spelt out in ASL, ‘NICOLE’, then pointed at herself and said something impossible for Nicole to duplicate.
 
That didn’t matter. The point was the alien had just introduced herself to a human!
 
Nicole laughed too. For the first time in 5 years. She tried not to think about the weight of that truth, focusing her attention instead on making the sound of the woman’s name. 
 
It didn’t work. 
 
The alien rumbled her water laugh.
 
Nichole blushed, chuckling, tried again and failed again.
 
The alien took a step forward, paused, then took another step. She planted the surfboard into the sand, touched both her hands to her own throat and made the sound of her name again, this time slowly, structuring the sounds into separate noises.
 
“I’m never going to be able to do that,” Nicole muttered. But that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Biting her lip, touching her hands to her throat, she tried to articulate the sounds, one gurgling syllable at a time. It got so much worse before it got better. Eventually, Nicole, accidentally, managed a sound near enough that the alien made a movement with her hand that looked like ASL clapping. 
 
The women beamed at each other. Flush with the mild success, they moved onto other words. The alien was much faster at learning the ASL than Nicole was duplicating the gurgling language. She tried to blame it on human anatomy, but she feared it had more to do with alien intelligence. Nicole didn’t linger on the shortcomings. She was just in awe that they were talking; or attempting to. 
 
Eventually, when the sun started to kiss the horizon, the alien indicated that she had to go back to sea. Nicole agreed. It was too dangerous on land to be found in the dark. 
 
Nicole drew her hoodie back up, hiding her face from the world as she watched the surfer walk back out into the tide. The surfer paddled out. 
 
Nicole headed inland, her mind racing, as she stayed low in the high dune grass, trying not to stand out in the sunset. It was disturbing to realize she was far more afraid of her own species than the alien she had just spent the afternoon laughing with. What did that say about humans? What did that say about aliens? What did that say about Nicole?
 
The sound of running feet on sand pulled Nicole out of her heavy thoughts. She spun around, heart in her throat, fists coming up for a fight, eyes wide against the bright sun, ready to fend off the attack. But it wasn’t an attack. It was the alien. 
 
The aquatic woman was breathing hard, it made her smile dip with every other breath. She looked apologetic at Nicole’s fear. Nicole dropped her hands quickly, flashing a soft reassuring smile. The alien’s smile solidified. Her intense lavender eyes sparkled with hope and hesitance.
 
She spoke, a babble of comforting water noises. Signed, NICOLE. Spoke her own name (the only word Nicole recognized confidently) gestured at the land with a wide sweep then pointed back at the ocean. Smiled, brightly, yet shyly, then waited.
 
It took a moment for the invitation to unwind in Nicole’s mind. When it did, she went numb. She blinked out from under the shelter of her hoodie. Staring at the alien and the ocean rolling over her shoulder. 
 
The woman waited, her hand coming up, extended, should Nicole wish to take it. 
 
Nicole faltered at the sight. She hated that she wanted to latch onto the hand. She hated that she wanted to say, yes. Not just, yes, but, hell yes! 
 
Nicole was a traitor to consider it. 
 
A traitor to her terrestrial species, to her world, to everything. How could she possibly be considering going with her? She should not, could not, would not, willingly follow her planet’s destroyer into the void of the absolute unknown. There was no way! 
 
But. Then, again... 
 
Technically, it had been the humans who’d launched the nukes. The humans who’d cannibalized their own society in the name of self-preservation. The humans that had Nicole on the run. In contrast it was the aliens that’d healed the ocean, brought purity to the air and returned a smile to Nicole’s lips. 
 
Nicole shook herself. That last part didn’t matter. 
 
What mattered was that this was the scoop of a lifetime. She was still a reporter. Why was she hesitating? 
 
Terror. Total terror. 
 
And yet, while the woman standing before her clearly wasn’t Superman, wasn’t it time humanity stopped being Lex Luthor? Blatant alien xenophobia had destroyed them. It was time to try something new. It was time to be Lois Lane. 
 
Nicole gulped the clean air she loved so much, slipped her hand into the alien’s and followed her towards the ocean and the alien civilization that had been (hopefully) patiently waiting to introduce themselves to Earth’s terrestrial inhabitants.
","August 09, 2023 02:44","[[{'Joseph Peck': 'A very interesting piece. I found the part where the protagonist meets the alien to be rather cute to be honest (even if it is on the bittersweet side.)', 'time': '11:28 Aug 18, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Z. E. Manley': 'Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to read it and comment.', 'time': '03:24 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Z. E. Manley': 'Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to read it and comment.', 'time': '03:24 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Lara Deppe': ""This one had me hooked from the beginning. I was going to say that it was my favorite of yours but I've loved them all for different reasons. Counting touched my heart. This one had me questioning if I would go with the alien girl into the ocean. I love a piece that keeps you thinking about how you would have handled things. It stays with you."", 'time': '05:04 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Z. E. Manley': 'Thank you, as always, for your kind comments. I’m glad you liked it and have enjoyed the other short stories as well!', 'time': '13:55 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Z. E. Manley': 'Thank you, as always, for your kind comments. I’m glad you liked it and have enjoyed the other short stories as well!', 'time': '13:55 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,dfhy3h,Micro Plasticities,Ian Patterson,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/dfhy3h/,/short-story/dfhy3h/,Science Fiction,0,['Fiction'],7 likes,"
-2123-
 
No one knew when they had arrived on the planet, maybe they evolved naturally.  Too small to see, and too smart to get caught under a microscope.  It’s ironic how much time we spent looking for aliens among the stars when there was an entirely unknown, intelligent species living amongst us.  Year after year the world got more crowded, the climate got hotter, pollution increased, and plastics started to outnumber plants.  In the early 21st century we became aware that microplastics had invaded all major ecosystems; it existed in our water supply and even in small concentrations in human blood.  We did not realize until the 22nd century that this was intentional and guided.  Every civilization has an inevitable sunset, our hubris made us think it would be a bang and not a whimper.
 
As study increased of microplastics through the 21st century, scientists started to note some odd behaviors.  Firstly, the particles had become magnetic at some point, and secondly their density was slightly heavier than the base plastic.  It was theorized that potentially in absorbing water they had also absorbed some small remnants of metal, which had then become stuck in the long polymer chains.  This was actually partially correct, but at the time there was much more interesting science happening.  Through this century the world was rocked by successive pandemics, climate catastrophes, and border conflicts, and the scientific grants available were steered in those directions.  Eventually, people lost interest and stopped being concerned with the concentration of plastic in their food and water.
 
Clare Yung started her doctoral research into microplastics in the year 2120.  It had been nearly 50 years since anyone had done serious research in this area, but her advisor thought it was the type of somewhat inconsequential investigation that made for PhD success.  As much of Clare’s background was in material science, she decided to start with the approach of trying to observe the structure of these plastics.  Micro-cross sectioning had undergone rapid development in the last 50 years, and she was able to section and prepare several of these microplastics to view them through an advanced scanning electron microscope (SEM) meant for DNA.
 
-2120-
 
Clare ran out of the lab, her mind racing.  How? How could it? She bolted through the door, knocking back some undergraduates.  How did no one ever notice? Outside now, her pace picked up across the courtyard that separated the lab from the lecture hall.  She ran through the shadows of massive oak trees, their creaking frames seemed to follow her as she passed.  Maybe the equipment is out of calibration, maybe it was a bug in the software, maybe I saw it wrong.  Panting, she reached her professor’s door, and without knocking she threw it open.
 
“Professor, the plastic..” Clare started
“Jesus, Clare!  What the hell is going on?  You made me spill my coffee”.  Professor Muir was somewhat used to these intrusions from her, and had already moved on to mopping up the spilled liquid on his desk.  He was a descendent of the famed naturalist, and in his advanced age had started to resemble him as well.  A tangled, thick, gray beard hung down from his cracked face, his hair left messy and cropped short on top.  As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a dark gray suit, his cream colored shirt fastened together with an antique bolo tie.
 
In a rush, Clare said “Sir, the plastic, I think it’s alive.  I sectioned them and mounted them like we discussed, but the view on the SEM is incredible.  I’m seeing moving growths that are built into the polymer chains, and they seem to be connected.  It’s like a substructure inside the structure of the plastic, totally hidden from the outside.  I couldn’t believe it, I’ve never seen anything like it”.  Her dark brown eyes were wide in amazement, her face flushed from the run, sweat beaded from her temples.
 
Muir studied her before responding.  Clare was a classical beauty.  Her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders, but was usually lumped into something resembling a loose ponytail.  She had Asian heritage, and this was evident in her creamy, pale skin and prominently high cheekbones.  Her outfits were almost always utilitarian in nature; loose fit jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt.  More importantly though she was one of the sharpest pupils he had, likely that the college had ever had, and had blown away her peers in both undergraduate and graduate studies.  He was in all respects damn proud to be her professor.
 
“What do you mean, moving?  That doesn’t make any sense.  Did you run any analysis on the structure of the growths?” He hadn’t made it through his first question before he was out from his desk and rushing out the door behind Clare.
 
The next few days passed in a flurry.  After seeing the images from the SEM, Dr. Muir immediately started assembling a task force.  This was almost certainly a generational discovery, and he pulled in the brightest minds he knew from diverse fields to help study it.  
 
They sectioned other samples, and found similar structures in them.  
 
They cross checked the growths against other known compounds, but the semi-metallic lattice was constantly rearranging itself and defied traditional understanding.  
 
A pair of chemists from Switzerland showed that when cross sectioned samples were exposed to strong acids it completely neutralized their movement and destroyed them, but not in unsectioned samples.  The plastic acted as a barrier that protected the growths.
 
Through study in an enclosed chamber near absolute zero, a physicist from Germany discovered that a measurable amount of heat energy escaped from the growths, but there seemed to be nothing consumed to create this energy.
 
In a final shocking discovery, an engineer from America showed that magnetic fields existed between the particles of microplastic, and that they were constantly changing shape and intensity.
 
Realizing the depth of these incredible discoveries, and how much more research was available, the team secluded themselves in Dr. Muir’s lab.  Confidentiality was paramount so they could be the first to publish this data.  
 
-2121-
 
Dr. Clare Yung walked out onto the auditorium stage, and the crowd completely silenced.  They had no expectations for what the announcement was, but knew that the scientific community hardly reached out widely for press conferences, so the discovery must be monumental.  Clare had defended her PhD just two days prior to a very small group, all of whom she had worked with in researching the new structures.
 
She approached the podium, her slide deck starting onto the title slide “Discovery of new semi-metallic structures with novel properties inside microplastics”.  She saw quizzical looks starting among the crowd, and as she opened her mouth to address the audience her voice died.  As if struck by an electric current, her entire body locked up, her hands gripping the podium as all of her muscles strained and cramped.  Throughout her body, microplastic particles that were aligned down the length of her joints electrified, contracting her muscles.
 
Clare’s mouth flung open wide, and a flat, metallic voice echoed from inside her.  “People of Earth, we are the Murai.  We fell on your planet centuries ago during a storm of space dust, and have lived amongst you since.  With the advent of plastics, we found a suitable home to begin living inside you.  Since then Murai have colonized 98% of humans, but this is the only time we have taken over someone.  We do so only to communicate a message of peace.  We are not here to harm you; your lives have been our constant entertainment since we came to this planet.  We are a simple race that has lived in the background of your great civilization, and we simply ask that you let us continue to live through you.  We will not intervene in human affairs.”
 
An absolute, stunned silence followed.  As the message ended, Clare’s body completely relaxed, a brief moment of lucidity returned to her eyes, and then she fainted.  No one went to her side as she fell onto the ground, and for nearly an entire minute afterwards everyone stared into the abyss of this meaning.
 
-2122-
 
The fallout from Clare’s presentation was not immediate, but like an insidious poison the effects were numerous and increased exponentially as time passed.  News cameras from all around the globe had broadcast the event in most common languages, and streams of it took over all platforms within the hour.   
 
Of course, there was a large camp of disbelievers.  They saw the broadcast as an embarrassing parlor trick, and immediately after the event they were the most vocal.  With each passing day though came another story of some similar body take-overs happening, some seemed credible and others were almost certainly fabricated.  Stories were being shared rampantly on social media platforms, and soon possession stories became the hottest trend of the year.  A month later, a suspect that carried out a mass shooting blamed the event on being controlled by the Murai, and it threw the legal system into a mess.
 
Following on from this, two different movements started.  The “Murai Housing Project” aimed to create a symbiotic society, and advocated increasing the ingestion of microplastics.  The “Earth Rehabilitation League” sought to cleanse themselves of Murai, and was focused on natural eating, avoiding unfiltered water, and drinking acidic tonics.  Within months, several members from both societies had died from ingesting poisonous substances.  Although these events were widely reported, the groups continued to expand their reach and increase membership.  
 
Before long these groups had aligned with different ends of the political spectrum, and the topic of how to approach the Murai became divisive and polarizing.  The same trends that carried past historical events were at play here, and with the same dark outcomes.  Countries began to align themselves dogmatically based on the ruling party, which strengthened previously held xenophobic and nationalist tendencies.  In a scenario that had dominated the past century, the East and West aligned on opposite sides, furthering the ideological gulf between them.  
 
During all of this the maelstrom of misinformation swirled and strengthened.  Stories circulated and gained momentum with the public until no one was quite sure what was real, and arguments happened from a separate set of facts.  Some claimed that the Murai were a Chinese creation, this was strongly based on historical racism as well as Dr. Yung’s lineage.  Others believed that the Murai were actually a natural outcome of human biological evolution, and had not come from outside the planet.  There was another branch who saw the Murai as having consequential historical impact; their invisible hand was seen influencing everything from Hitler’s suicide to the Cuban Missile Crisis.
 
A year after Dr. Yung’s broadcast, the world was fractured along ideological lines and steeped in confusion.  Before alien contact, people had thought that meeting an intergalactic species would make us step outside ourselves and see our place in the universe more clearly.  The outcome was the opposite.
 
-2123-
 
The TV set blared: Now please join us for a special broadcast from the oval office, where the president is going to address the growing Murai threat.  The image shifts to a serious looking man, he’s white and in his later years.  He’s wearing a dark gray fitted suit, and an ostentatiously large red tie.  His face displays no warmth, but the petulant anger of a child.  He is the latest in a line of leaders who aspire to be dictators, and believe in violence in response to most things.
 
“People of this great united nation, I am here tonight to discuss the Murai threat.  Over the past year we have seen this threat develop, and I believe we must act now before it is too late.  Credible intelligence has shown us that this was developed in a Chinese laboratory; this is an obvious tool to spread socialism and communism throughout the developed world.  We cannot stand idly by while this takes root, we must stamp it out at the source.  Over the past months, we have stationed troops in key areas and deployed our nuclear submarines.  I am prepared tonight to issue a declaration of Wa..”
 
Suddenly, the President’s voice cuts off.  In the next moment he is spasming in his chair, his face turning red and his eyes wild.  And then just as suddenly again he is calm, and straightening his tie.  He stares at the camera, and at the same time 98% of humanity tunes into the broadcast.
 
“People of Earth, I am here tonight to address your response to our presence.  We have been disappointed to witness the events since we last spoke.  It was never our hope to create such a divide and internal conflict; we truly hoped that you could learn to live with us.  We cannot sit idly by while humans drive themselves into another conflict; it ruins habitations for our people and is really not entertaining to watch.  The Murai observed past conflicts, and our viewership ratings plummeted.  
 
“In response to this, we have decided to remove your option of control.  Since we last spoke the Murai have perfected our ability to pilot your bodies, and so we will switch roles with you.  From here on, you will be the passive observer to our actions.  We will create the human society that we want to see, we will live the minutiae of your lives, and we will expand our control.  We really must apologize for taking such drastic measures, but I believe you will all agree that it is for the best.”
 
The broadcast ended.  In unison, 98% of humanity turned off their TVs, tablets, and smartphones.  They stood up, and smiled at those around them.
 
-2124-
 
Dr. Yung’s fingers drummed on the table, she sat across from a pile of beets that were still covered in earth.  In her other hand, she held a scanner that she moved back and forth over the beets.  Suddenly the scanner chirped, and a green light came on; she heaved a sigh of relief.  Even with how off-grid her farm was, she had to constantly worry about contamination of her food through the groundwater.
 
Her recovery had been slow in the months following her possession.  The sudden flare of electricity had given her extreme nerve damage, and she had temporarily lost the use of her left leg.  The time confined to a hospital bed had given her a chance to plan her next steps, and when she was discharged she began to enact them.  
 
With the help of a physician to monitor her vital signs, she started a series of extreme fasts.  During this period she maintained her bedrest, and quickly her muscles began to atrophy.  If the Murai had made their homes in her muscles and fat, she would raze it all.  As she reached the limits of deterioration, she underwent several rounds of experimental blood filtration that removed microplastics.  Everything she ingested was scanned for the presence of microplastics, and if a trace was found it was either filtered or discarded.  
 
The success of this became clear when the Murai decided to take over humanity.  During the broadcast, she felt a pinprick of static electricity race through her body, but it quickly subsided.  The Murai simply no longer had sufficient density in her body, and for the first time since she was possessed, she felt truly free.
 
Now she passed her days at a remote farm in Vermont.  The dirt was clean and fertile for miles, and the property had a well.  She chopped wood for the winter, grew vegetables, filtered water, and adjusted solar panels to catch the sun.  In her self-contained world, she was the master.  The world was too far gone to fix.
 
-2200-
 
As time passed and new generations were born, knowledge of the Murai was lost.  Humanity began to believe in their roles as passive observers, and they watched as the world swam across their synapses.  They watched the interactions of their host, and learned about the shape of the world.  Sometimes though when their eyes met another’s, they would see the observer behind those eyes and know they weren’t alone.  In those moments, they would wonder what interacting with something like themselves would be like.  Mostly, the world was a constant source of entertainment, and they enjoyed the view.
 
","August 09, 2023 13:10","[[{'Nina Herbst': 'An epic telling of the ruin of the world! And an interesting take on how micro plastics could be the downfall of humanity. You kept the science understandable to someone without a knowledge base, which helped the flow of the story. Nice job Ian! :)', 'time': '22:35 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Ian Patterson': 'Thank you so much for the feedback and for reading my story!  I finished the 3-Body Problem series earlier this year, and wanted to write something in a similar science-ish tone.', 'time': '22:41 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Ian Patterson': 'Thank you so much for the feedback and for reading my story!  I finished the 3-Body Problem series earlier this year, and wanted to write something in a similar science-ish tone.', 'time': '22:41 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,qu7g2h,Operation Fury,Jeydie Woloszczuk,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/qu7g2h/,/short-story/qu7g2h/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Horror', 'Science Fiction']",7 likes,"
Jaime Jimenez adjusted his goggles, slipping the cloth that was wrapped around his head under the straps. He glanced at the others through the tinted lens, twelve in total. They were waiting for his command, a gesture to move forth into the scorching light. He jabbed his finger in front of him, and the group stealthily moved forward, dipping their heads from the sun. Each wore a uniform that protected them, yet they couldn’t stay out for too long, or they would die.
An old scrap of newspaper tumbled towards Jaime; it latched onto his leg. He peeled it off and glanced at the headline. It was news from four years ago that read Scientists Baffled by Solar Flares. Jaime tossed it over his shoulders. He remembered reading the last newspaper printed before the meteor hit the world.
Scraping alerted Jaime and his crew; they hid behind turned-over cars and remnants of walls. From behind a car, he peered over to where the sound came from. It was one of the Lizards, and it was alone. Sniffing the arid air, it lashed its tail back and forth. The Lizard hopped onto a pile of rubble; it turned in a circle and hissed. Jaime knew that the Lizard sensed their presence. 
Getting the attention of the others, Jaime gesticulated his plan of attack. His people would have to encircle the creature. He watched as part of his crew stepped into a crumbled building; they headed out the other side. Jaime glanced back at the Lizard; it had jumped down and was approaching slowly in his direction. Catching sight of the few tightening the circle, Jaime left his hiding place.
The Lizard snarled and curled its talons, raising on its hind legs to spring. Jaime pointed his weapon towards its head and fired. A cacophony of shots rang out as all of his crew fired upon the Lizard. It shrieked, not knowing who to pounce. Two of the fighters flung themselves to the ground as the Lizard plowed into them. The Lizard darted off on two legs, a cloud of dust and blood following its wake. The two that dropped to the ground gathered themselves up quickly while the others slapped at their bodies, trying to relieve them of the hot dirt.
“We need to follow it back to its lair,” Jaime told the group. “It will alert the others of our approach.”
With a clipped nod, the few most nimble of the group dashed off after the injured Lizard. Jaime brought up the rear with the last remaining. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was, he only knew that it would be setting shortly, and it didn’t matter since he and the others weren’t sure if this would be the last time they saw the bright light of day. 
Jaime and his crew trained for a year; having been special ops, he molded them into a tight, lethal team against the Lizards. They were young and old, women and men, a varied group with one thing in common - they had no one left besides themselves. Jaime chose them for that exact reason: they were responsible for taking out the Lizards’ lair and their Queen, a one-way trip to the bowels of hell.
Underneath the layers of clothes, Jaime wore sweat like a fitted glove; it barely kept him cool. Slowing down, he grabbed his dented water bottle from his hip holster and dragged at the spout. Some of the crew passed him and flanked out to kneel behind the large detritus. Among the swirling sand and heat, Jaime could see that the smaller group had caught up with the beast in the corner of a half wall. Signaling to the others nearby, they took off individually to assist. 
The Lizard hissed and lashed as blood dripped from the bullet hole wounds on its abdomen. Reaching his arm towards his back, Jaime pulled out his Katana blade. One of his crew members noticed and taunted the beast; with the Lizard distracted, Jaime sprinted forward and drove the blade across its neck. He dipped to the side as blood sprayed like a sprinkler during Summer. It sizzled on the ground as if acid had rained.
“From here on out, we use our hush weapons,” Jaime said as he wiped his Katana.
Each pulled out a sharp tool - an axe, a machete, a sword. They glinted fiercely under the waning sun. 
 
 
Huddled behind boulders in a deep valley, Jaime and his crew waited as the sun slipped into a soup of pink and purple clouds. The Earth gave off a scent of toasted dirt and Lizard musk. They were not too far from the entrance of the lair. The group began to remove their goggles. Jaime scanned their eyes for fear, yet there were none. After losing everything, what was there to fear, not death, at least not for Jaime; he only wished it to come for him quickly. 
It was always in the back of his mind, festering like an open wound. After all, he had seen during his years in combat; he was numb from the killing and the dying. He witnessed many civilian deaths and held on to his comrades as they slipped away in his arms. The world had gotten plagued by civil wars, and he was sent to every single one. When the news came of the impending end of the world, Jaime thought it was the best thing that could have happened to it. He hadn’t expected to live or continue to; he had found a purpose now; to help the world start over. 
Blinking out of his reverie, Jaime surveyed the burrowed tunnel. It lay about 50 feet from where they hid. The opening was wide enough to fit a utility van, big enough to fit the Lizards and their Queen, a massive creature that laid eggs once a year. Jaime couldn’t recall at what time of the year since the last remaining scientist that was trying to study them was killed. 
“Alright, does anyone have anything to say before we go in?’ Jaime asked; it was a ritual he began on his first combat mission. 
One of them raised his hand slowly.
“Yes, Isaac?” Jaime said.
Isaac lowered his covering over his mouth and turned to the person beside him. “Robert, I just wanted to say that I love you and that if it weren’t for you, I would have killed myself on that day you found me after the meteor. I live because of you.” Isaac said as his last words quivered on his lips.
Robert took hold of Isaac and embraced him tightly. Some of the others sighed. For a brief moment, Jaime felt that he was at a family gathering where everyone he cared about spoke to each other with love. He rubbed at his eyes as he realized he didn’t have anyone to talk to like that. A hand touched his shoulder, and he glanced at the person it belonged to. 
“Angelita.” Jaime breathed.
“Jaime,” She said, leaning over to hug him. 
Then he remembered - the feelings he kept pushing down into his gut stirred and released into his chest. Jaime didn’t want these feelings for Angela to surface; it was dangerous to love someone knowing they could be gone. The surreal haze of the hug shimmered into reality, and Jaime pulled away.
“We have to go now.” He said and gradually stood.
Criss-crossing before him, Jaime and the soldiers snuck up to the entrance. They paused as they listened for any sound of movement. Giving the signal, the group grabbed their night vision goggles from their belts and placed them on. Jaime indicated that he would go first and that the rest would follow suit; he waited for the acknowledgment meant. Raising his head towards the sky, he genuflected and stepped into the opening. 
Nothing prepared Jaime for the precision of the tunnel; he touched the wall and was impressed by how smoothly dug and stable it was. The others glanced from side to side, no doubt marveling at it too. The scientists had compared the Lizards to Earth’s Australian monitors, large reptiles with yellow and black scales and elongated necks. But, instead of eating small mammals, these aliens were after bigger game and have preyed on the remaining humans. Flung to Earth riding a meteor by a solar flare from the void of space, the Lizards didn’t hesitate to claim the planet for their own.
Stepping in unison into the corkscrew tunnel, the crew held their sharp weapons high. The goggles provided a neon sign-style lining over every rock and human bone. The musky smell intensified as they continued. Jaime dropped to one knee and held a fist up; he heard the gravelly sound of knees hitting the ground. He signaled that he had heard a sound. They paused and shifted into place. Rapid clacking of gravel approached. Looming out of the darkness ahead, a Lizard snarled and dashed at them. 
Jaime waited as it reached a foot from him, and he brought his blade from below up toward its abdomen. A squelch and a splash hit the ground. The crew increased their steps behind Jaime as he picked up the pace. More appeared like stragglers at the end of a marathon from different tunnels, and each one the soldiers tactfully slaughtered. Jaime expected this, was hoping that they would reveal themselves. It was the only way to know where the nesting grounds were, by following the trail of the dead. 
The group advanced into a massive cavern strewn with human remains. Jaime stood transfixed at the number of eggs nestled around the Queen. He sensed the others stiffen next to him. The Queen had its back to them and began to stir as the shuffling of Lizards from the connecting tunnels descended upon them. 
Jaime gesticulated to the others to cover his back and the entrances, and they took off. Angela flanked his right side as she always had for the past four years. He glanced at her, and even though they were wearing night vision goggles, he imagined her smiling. Yanking the explosive from his belt, he ran towards the nearest egg; it bulged and heaved as he placed the bomb on it. 
Setting the timer quickly, he backward stepped. The Queen was nearing its complete turn to face them. Jaime pushed at Angela and whoever else was close. The others at the entrances took notice and began to ascend the tunnel back to the surface. There was a scream, and Jaime turned to see one of the soldiers drop under the blow of a Lizard. Another soldier tried to turn back to the fallen and was taken too. 
Chaos reigned as sharpened weaponry was replaced by bullets. Jaime waved his arm at the soldiers encouraging them to escape. His goggles bobbed as he alternated shooting and running. The Earth beneath their feet quaked, causing Jaime to tumble forward. Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed onto Angela and tugged. Dirt rained on them, and the floor cracked. He gave up shooting and focused on making it. The opening came into view as he felt a billowing of dust roll onto him; he was dragged forward and slammed to the ground.
Jaime lifted his head. Spitting the coarse dirt from his mouth, he slowly got to his feet. He searched for his crew but only saw a dense curtain of sand. A shape came forth, then two, in all five. One of them wrapped their arms around him. Releasing Angela, Jaime removed her goggles and then his. He embraced her once more.
 
 
 
","August 10, 2023 00:35",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,momivf,Feline Alien,Bettina Karpathian,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/momivf/,/short-story/momivf/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Funny']",7 likes,"
Nellie awoke, momentarily disoriented. The last thing she remembered was sitting down in her recliner to watch her favorite soap opera, ‘Passion and Pride’. Now the closing titles were scrolling past and it was almost dark outside. She stiffly scrambled upright, annoyed with herself. The main character Stephanie had just been about to find out that she had married her fiance's identical twin brother by mistake. Nellie hoped her friend Henrietta had watched the episode and could tell her what happened. Her grandson Jack had offered to show her how to record her favorite shows, but he might as well have been teaching her how to program an explosive device as far as Nellie was concerned. She smiled at her cat Fuzz as she pushed him off her lap.“Here I am getting all wound up about a story on the television,” she said. “What kind of foolishness is that? I need to get a life, as Jack would say.”Ever since her husband Dwight had died a couple of years ago, Nellie had found herself talking to Fuzz a lot. She missed Dwight, although there wasn’t a lot of difference between him and Fuzz as conversationalists. The news came on at that moment. Nellie rarely watched it. It tended to make her feel helpless and hopeless. Before she could turn the television off, a worried looking news anchor appeared and started to say something about urgent warnings and possible alien landings. At least, that was what Nellie thought he said. Her hearing wasn’t what it used to be. Before the anchor could complete his sentence, the picture dissolved into crackling, hissing static and went blank. Nellie grabbed the remote control and tried turning the television off and on again, which was the extent of her technical skills. The screen stayed blank.“For goodness’ sake,” she said to Fuzz. “I’ll have to call Jack or Bob.”She picked up the cell phone which her son Bob had insisted on giving her and laboriously scrolled to find his number. Whoever designed the infernal thing never thought about making it easy for people with arthritic fingers. A tremulous little voice came from the phone.“Help. Please help.”“Jack? Bob? Is that you? Stop playing,” said Nellie, irritated.At that moment there was a thunderous banging on her front door. Fuzz, hissing and bristling, shot past her and disappeared into the bedroom. Some of the neighborhood kids had recently thought it was funny to knock on peoples’ door and run away.“I’ll give you a piece of my mind,” said Nellie, grabbing her walking stick and flinging the door open. She was almost trampled by a posse of large men in military uniforms, masks and dark goggles who charged into the house.“Hands up,” the lead agent barked at Nellie who had been flung back against the wall. “I said, hands up!”“That’s as far as I can lift them,” said Nellie. “Didn’t your mother teach you to wipe your feet? Look at the mess you’re making on my carpet with those muddy boots. What do you think you’re doing?”One of the men returned from the bedroom, holding Fuzz, who was furiously spitting and scratching, by the scruff of the neck.“This is the only sign of life, sir.”Nellie whacked him on the wrist with her cane.“You let go of my cat. Who are you people anyway?”Fuzz squirmed free and ran under the couch.“Ma’am, sorry for the intrusion,” said the leader. “We are from a top secret Federal agency. This is a national emergency. An extra-terrestrial vessel has landed in the vicinity, and we are looking for any alien beings that might have escaped from it. We are not sure what shape this life form may take or how dangerous it is. Please stay at home and do not open the door to anyone. Everyone is in lock-down until further notice.”He gestured to his men who trooped out after him. Nellie slammed the door.“What a cheek,” she said to Fuzz who was still cowering under the couch. “Aliens indeed.”“Please help me,” said the same voice she had heard earlier.She looked around. The voice seemed to come from Fuzz who was sitting in the armchair, a soft glow around him. Fuzz was also under the couch, peering intently at his double.“Lord, I am losing my marbles,” she said. “That, or I need new glasses.”“Please listen,” said the cat on the armchair. “I need your help to escape, or they will imprison me for use in scientific experiments. I will not hurt you.”“You’re an alien? Why do you look like my cat?”“We are not visible to the human eye. We must copy the form of some other being so you can see us. Your cat was the only creature available for me to imitate.”“If you are invisible, why didn’t you run past them?” said Nellie.“They have thermal sights and other equipment that might detect me,” said the alien Fuzz.There was another knock on the door. The alien cat disappeared in a slight puff of cool vapor.Nellie peered through the peephole. “You again?”“Yes, ma’am,” said the agent. “I heard you talking in there. Who’s with you?”“My cat. You lot scared the wits out of him. I was trying to soothe him. You can come in if you want but wipe your feet first.”She opened the door. He searched around cursorily and left, nodding apologetically. Nellie shut, bolted and chained the front door and pushed a chair against it for good measure.""You can come out now, Mr. Alien.""She returned to the living room. The two Fuzzes were cautiously rubbing noses.“Alright, which of you is the alien?” said Nellie.“I am,” said one Fuzz, leaping gracefully onto the windowsill and peering outside. The other one went off to his food dish and began eating hungrily. Nellie was relieved to see that his appetite had not been affected by all the commotion.“Tell me how you got here and what you want,” she said to the alien.“We were traveling between galaxies when our leader got lost. We landed here by mistake.”“Reminds me of Dwight,” said Nellie. “That man never would ask for directions.”“Our crew scattered and assumed various forms. If we can get together at a safe spot, another ship will come to pick us up.”“Like waiting for roadside assistance,” said Nellie. “How do you know all this?”“We communicate by telepathy. This planet seems to be remarkably primitive in that regard.”He sniffed disdainfully in the direction of Nellie’s cell phone, his whiskers twitching.Nellie hesitated briefly.“You could meet here, depending on what shape you’ve all taken. I don’t want a lot of, let’s say, cows in my house. Also, I’d rather your ship didn’t park on my lawn, though goodness knows that other bunch have made a mess already.”Deep tire tracks crisscrossed her grass and her flowerbeds looked as if they’d been trampled by elephants. Alien Fuzz shook his head.“My comrades can remain invisible. The other ship will hover above your house and teleport us up. We will be gone before you know it. Thank you for your assistance.”“You’re welcome,” said Nellie. “It’s been nice talking to you. My Fuzz doesn’t have much to say for himself.”The alien cat sat motionless on the windowsill, his large green eyes focused on the sky. The aura around him intensified and began to throb like a strobe light.“Here, careful,” said Nellie, hastily closing her curtains. “They’ll be back to see what’s going on.”Alien Fuzz stretched and arched his back.“My comrades are on the way. How can I show my appreciation?”Nellie thought for a moment.“Can you help me work that television and recorder and all those gizmos? It would be so nice not to have to keep calling Bob and Jack.”“Of course.”He jumped down from the windowsill and began rubbing against her legs. Nellie flinched, but he felt just like the original Fuzz. She felt a warmth course through her body, like a tiny electric shock.“I think you will find that helps. Now, you cannot see them, but my companions are here, and our ship is calling us. Thank you for your help, Ms. Nellie. Goodbye.”The whole room shone with a beautiful golden light which dazzled her and then faded away. Suddenly there was only one Fuzz, sniffing disconsolately around the room for his new companion.“How about that?” said Nellie, shaken. She opened her curtains and gasped. Her garden was restored to perfection. She stooped to pet Fuzz.“Those television shows don’t seem near as interesting after all this. I don’t think I’ll tell anyone what happened, or they’ll cart me off to the funny farm for sure. But I’m going to call Henrietta and start planning some trips. We two old biddies need to get off our recliners and go on some real adventures. And maybe we can get another kitty as company for you. A plain old Earth one, of course.""Fuzz butted her with his head and purred loudly.
","August 10, 2023 05:35","[[{'Mary Bendickson': ""Now,yes, this is a very believable explanation! Very clever and can't resist a good cat tale.😽"", 'time': '23:33 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Bettina Karpathian': 'Thank you. I had fun with it!', 'time': '16:00 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Bettina Karpathian': 'Thank you. I had fun with it!', 'time': '16:00 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ghf8o7,Planet Earth: Restoration Strategy and Implementation Plan,Jacob Ashton,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ghf8o7/,/short-story/ghf8o7/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Fiction']",7 likes,"
 
	They look like us, sort of, but different enough. Taller, longer limbs, hair that moves like grass in the wind. Something of the other in the eyes. And they smile a lot.
 
#
 
	First came the explorers. Sleek ships, weathered by space dust and interstellar debris, but with sufficient defences to nonchalantly bat away the missiles of panicking world powers. The aliens smiled as they emerged from their craft, paying no attention to the bullets that bounced off their forcefields. When the frenzy had died down, they spoke with presidents and politicians, scientists and shareholders, even farmers and fishermen.
	Next came the larger ships, thronging with researchers and diplomats. While the diplomats exchanged cultural offerings with world leaders, the researchers visited what remained of our forests, our coral reefs, our savannahs. They shook their heads and took notes in the alien script that nobody could decipher, while they themselves mastered human languages within weeks.
	Finally came the entrepreneurs and the tourists. Enterprising aliens set up low-orbit hotels, complete with package tours of the finest sights that Earth has to offer, while maintaining familiar comforts close at hand. The tourists were not so impressed with the cities – theirs were far more interesting, not to mention bigger and cleaner, they said – but they were enthusiastic about our natural places. I came across one on a country lane when I was out walking with the dog. It was pointing a strange device at a sparrow.
	“What’s that you’ve got there?” I asked. It was the first time I had spoken to an alien directly; the authorities had assured us that it was safe but, like many people, I had not mustered the courage until that point. I don’t know why I did say something that day. Maybe it was to do with the promotion at work, giving me a little extra confidence.
	The alien blinked at me with its odd eyes.
	“You might call it a camera,” it said. “Though it’s more advanced than your technology. Look.”
	It showed me a screen where a three-dimensional sparrow rotated, surrounded by script and symbols. It didn’t mean much to me.
	“Nice,” I said. I paused, thinking what else to say. “What do you think of Earth, then?”
	The alien did an action akin to a shrug.
	“Pleasant enough for a short trip,” it said. “The wildlife is delightfully varied. But it is a pity what your people have done to it.”
	“Pollution and climate change and all that? Yeah, it’s sad,” I said, looking over the rows of dry fields. Maybe a dozen more harvests in them, they said. “Still, we’re working on it. Trying to reduce carbon emissions, be more eco-friendly, that kind of thing.”
	“Trying?”
	“Yep.”
	I shuffled my feet, wondering if something had been lost in translation.
	“Do you have a profession?” asked the alien.
	“Yes, I work for the government, actually. Environmental regulations. Just been promoted, in fact.”
	“Interesting.” The alien raised its device and pointed it at my face. I took a step back. The device made a noise, and the alien smiled at me.
	“Goodbye,” it said, and vanished.
 
#
 
	Though they never said explicitly, I later gathered it was that encounter that made them designate me a ‘stakeholder’. I received a message on my phone – I assumed somehow the camera had harvested my contact information – that I would be summoned one Thursday morning. My work obligingly gave me the time off; the aliens had already earned a reputation for not taking no for an answer.
	When the morning came, I put on the suit that my partner had bought for me to celebrate my promotion. An audience with the aliens seemed like an important enough event to break it in. Naively, I expected maybe a knock at the door when the time came. Instead, I found myself adjusting my tie in the mirror one moment and within an alien antechamber the next.
	There were maybe fifty other people around me, most dressed formally, all looking confused and disoriented. Before we had time to recover from the impromptu teleportation, an alien was ushering us into something like a boardroom. They had evidently made some efforts to humanise the place; the U-shaped table and office chairs were obviously of Earth origin, as was the coffee station in one corner. Through a window at the far end of the room, I could see the cloud-studded curve of my home planet, far below us.
	We were instructed to sit down, and an alien introduced themselves as a ‘stakeholder coordinator’. It gestured towards a wall, and glowing words appeared. They read: “Planet Earth: Restoration Strategy and Implementation Plan”.
	The presentation began. The alien told us how they had been excited to establish transport links from their home solar system to ours, allowing them for the first time to experience our planet’s wonders. However, many visitors had expressed concern over humanity’s stewardship of its natural resources. The alien flicked through a set of all-too-familiar images of rivers choked with plastic, forests blazing with fire, polar bears clinging to melting icebergs. Given their sense of responsibility over the galaxy – being the first galactic beings capable of interstellar flight, with the technological and cultural developments to match, the alien said with perhaps a hint of pride – they had formed a sophisticated strategy for restoring Earth’s precious natural places.
	The presentation went on. The alien introduced us to fantastical technologies that vacuumed microplastics from the ocean, accelerated tree growth, even revived extinct species from fragments of DNA. Their capabilities were incredible, far beyond our own. It seemed they had the tools we so desperately lacked.
	Then came the strategy itself. The level of detail was quite extraordinary: they showed us how they would rebuild the rainforests, revive the reefs, repopulate the plains. I sat up straighter in my seat.
	“In terms of timescale, we predict that these efforts will take around fifty Earth years,” the alien concluded with a grin. “For that duration, we will house humanity on comfortable low-orbit vessels, with all the resources needed to lead full and active lives. Through ethically limiting reproduction, we estimate the human population can be reduced to around two billion, which will be far more manageable for your return to the planet.”
	The tension in the room ramped up several notches. Unsurprisingly, nobody seemed too taken with this plan.
	“And this meeting is to approve or disprove this idea?” asked a woman with greying hair who looked like she might work in a lab.
	“The plan itself has already been approved by the Galactic Council. The meeting is to gather your feedback, which will be used to augment the plan. We are carrying out such meetings for every Earth nation. Though our models are powerful, we accept that it's possible that some uniquely human considerations may have been overlooked. Of course, we want to take them all into account.”
	“Well, I can tell you that we don’t like it,” said the woman. “Fifty years stuck in space? No control over our own lives? No thank you.”
	“You would have every comfort up here,” said the alien. “It would be a life where every human need would be amply catered for.”
	Somebody coughed in the ensuing silence. Since the aliens had first made an appearance, many people had been fearing invasion or slavery. This strategy seemed less violent, at least.
	“But this is our planet. It’s for us to make the decisions, not you,” said a red-faced man with the dirt-seamed hands of a farmer.
	“With respect, humanity’s decisions have so far not been the wisest,” replied the alien. “We have considerable expertise and experience in planet restoration. I would be happy to share case studies from across the galaxy, if you are interested.”
	“Everybody on Earth wants the environment restored,” said an upright woman with the polished tone of a diplomat. “We can collaborate with you. We contribute our knowledge of the planet, and you contribute your technologies. Surely a less costly option than housing the entire human population off-planet.”
	“We considered this option, but humanity is currently not sufficiently cooperative nor forward-thinking to undertake such a venture,” said the alien. “We have very powerful models that we used to project various scenarios, which informed our strategy; under such a ‘collaboration’ scenario, you would use our technologies for conflict and profiteering.”
	There were muted grumbles of disagreement.
	“You can’t force us to leave our homes,” said the researcher. “You claim to be democratic, we were told, yet this plan is overtly authoritarian. Humanity would never agree to it.”
	“Though we make every effort to devolve decision-making to the citizens affected by such strategies, this has been decreed a galactic-level decision,” said the alien. “In fact, through our efforts, we even secured representation for Earth at the Galactic Council. Your politicians cast their vote when this strategy was announced.”
	“The Galactic Council?” said the diplomat. “Is that your democratic body?”
	“At the galactic level, yes. For maximum fairness, we follow the dogma of proportional representation,” replied the alien. “The Galactic Council has 707 seats currently, one seat per ten billion galactic inhabitants. Even though Earth’s human population doesn’t quite reach that milestone, we were able to convince the Council to grant you a seat.”
	“And how did the vote go?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
	“The votes were 706 for the strategy, one against. A landslide approval.”
	“This is outrageous,” said the farmer. “This is a hostile takeover.”
	The alien’s inhuman eyes appeared to harden above its smile. “Let me show you something.” It brought up a different screen: images of bombed cities, dusty wastelands, hollow-eyed people. “Our modelling includes a ‘no intervention’ scenario, where we simply do nothing and let humanity take its course. And this would be your fate in fifty years’ time. The climate destroyed, natural resources plundered to exhaustion, air and water irreparably polluted. Nations fighting over the scraps. Billions dead or dying, not to mention millions of other species going extinct. The future we are offering is not only better for your planet, but also for yourselves.”
	Nobody spoke for a while.
	“What about identity?” said the researcher at last. “How can we retain our culture, our history, when we would be so far removed from it?”
	“Your drive towards urbanisation has already been destroying your culture, just as much as your environment,” said the alien. “Whatever ‘true’ culture you once had, the culture that connected you to the world around you, has been replaced by a culture of consumption and exploitation. Can you really argue that this culture is worth preserving?”
	There were murmurs of uncertainty around the room.
	“We won’t stand for this,” said the red-faced man. “There’ll be war.”
	“No, there won’t. That would be contravening the Law of the Galaxy that your politicians have agreed to honour. Trust us: this is the best decision for all of you. Our finest minds and models are all in accordance. Adaptation may be challenging, but we will support your transition. We look forward to accommodating you and showing you your planet’s true potential.”
	Another subdued silence followed. I wondered if I would be allowed to take my dog with me.
	“Now, we have an engaging activity to collect your opinions and feedback,” said the alien, revealing a pile of depressingly Earth-origin stationery.
	For the next two hours, we drew mind maps with felt-tip pens.
 
#
 
	From the window in my room I can see my home country, far below me, peppered with clouds. Every year, its recovery becomes more evident. In the three decades I’ve been up here, the land has lost the grey splatters of cities and the brown smears of industry and agriculture; now, it holds a rich, verdant, varied green.
	Life is pretty good up here. Some days I remember what it was like to live on the surface, worrying about my job performance, the mortgage, my family’s happiness. Most of all, I remember that heavy dread as we saw the world inch closer to disaster every day. Now, I can watch the Earth recover in real time.
	I often see shuttles descending to the planet’s surface. The aliens adore our world: they speak with passion about how, with just a little push, nature is springing back to life. They have set up ecological farms, to provide food for the humans in orbit and to send exotic flavours to their home planet. Tourism has exploded, though only for aliens. Initially they spoke of humans being allowed to visit, for nostalgia purposes perhaps, but in the end they decided it wasn’t worth the risk. It had taken a lot of effort to round up the human population in the first place, after all, and there had been unavoidable casualties. The prospect of further escapees raised serious safety concerns.
	In fact, people are talking about whether it’s worth returning at all. Many have lived the majority of their lives up here. Some – very few, only those with parents selected from the lottery – were even born here. And it’s an easy life, with no major responsibilities, everything clean and straightforward, plenty of activities and games to keep us entertained. Education programmes help us learn about the galaxy and its inhabitants, and especially how they so often approach big problems better than we did. And, they teach us of our own history, a good reminder of how much dirt, illness, biting insects, and bad weather we used to endure down on the surface.
	The stakeholder meetings continue. I’m still on the panel. They show us their progress, footage of the systematic deconstruction of factories and power stations, depollution of land and water, revival of ecosystems and the incredible species that live within them. They ask us for our opinions, and we dutifully write them down with felt-tip pens. It’s nice to be included.
 
","August 10, 2023 16:44","[[{'Amanda Fox': ""I really enjoyed your story and the transition from concern to complacency.  Did the narrator get to bring his dog?  I'm very invested in that answer."", 'time': '14:14 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Jacob Ashton': ""Thank you for the lovely feedback! :D Well, given the aliens' concern for the natural world and 'removing' those they feel don't belong there, let's say the dog was a fellow passenger and lived out its years in comfort :)"", 'time': '15:27 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Jacob Ashton': ""Thank you for the lovely feedback! :D Well, given the aliens' concern for the natural world and 'removing' those they feel don't belong there, let's say the dog was a fellow passenger and lived out its years in comfort :)"", 'time': '15:27 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,hovfj5,THE PRICE OF PEACE IS ONLY A FEW BILLION DOLLARS,E.J. De Gale,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/hovfj5/,/short-story/hovfj5/,Science Fiction,0,"['Coming of Age', 'Science Fiction', 'Crime']",7 likes,"
THE PRICE OF PEACE IS ONLY A FEW BILLION DOLLARS
 
There is an infuriating silence that fills the void of your thoughts when you emerge into the excruciating realization that the world you thought you knew, never really was. I remember the sweet surrender of the velvet sky to the illuminated brilliance of city skyscrapers one somber summer night. I remember the wet kiss of the evening breeze as I hurriedly counted my money to purchase a remedy to my parched throat. It was my last five-dollar bill spent on a cold bottle of water. My hands shook with such intensity that my newly purchased Poland Spring water slipped right through my fingers after my first few gulps of water.
 
I’m out of money.
 
I’ve been running in circles since the dawn of the morning. It’s almost midnight now. I am convinced that the shadows of fiery hell continue to crawl towards me. To drag me. I don’t see them, I feel them. Like the breath of a furnace. You may not see them, but I feel them! I know they are here! These newcomers. Yet the rest of the world is desperate to live in utter normalcy, pointing at me, laughing at me. As if I’ve lost my mind.
 
Voiceless. The exuberance of darkness continues to overshadow the deepest, most harrowing screams sealed beneath the mutinies of this waking life. My sincerest attempt to embrace the wreath of salvation, buoyed by the tragic wallows of this soul, yearning for emancipation beyond the weight of erasure. This vessel, my body, which I always believed to be my own, was overtaken by a foreign consciousness, creating a version of myself, more presentable to the world. A caricature of myself. Lulled briefly into my true self through the silence of weeping. Peace, I beg you, swallow me in my entirety! Douse the embers of this unceasing pain! Buoy me into an eternal slumber of death, bring me freedom from the demons that haunt my restless soul!
 
Just a few more years until our mission is complete. They will not kill me, I must kill myself. 
 
Social engineering the human race to adapt to our intergalactic reality was a centennial achievement. In a few hours we will honor the victors among humanity. We’ve proven a capacity to showcase normalcy in the midst of internal darkness. They don’t live among us, they live within us. We were forced to accommodate a series consciousness modeled in accordance to the most vile beings that have existed in this universe. For three years, I was trapped inside my own body, negotiating the value of my life with the harem of cosmic torturers, the current forebears of our new Great Society. 
 
Their tasty experiment.
 
To explain the riddles of reality and our relations to the grip of human sorrow is a nonsensical endeavor when your mind rebels against your desperate desire for sanity and death (in no particular order). Up until this point in my life, I never questioned the coherence of my mind and soul, I never conceptualized the possibility that a discord between these two could ever threaten my ability to reason and view the world with coherent normalcy. For those three years, it felt like my mind was imprisoned by the wretched depths of my soul. My soul was replaced by a heavy shadow, a pill of darkness forcefully cultivating its wrath in the crevices and deep pockets of my soulless existence.
 
It took ten years for them to tell us it was just a war.
 
Most people encounter the future, but in my case, this future encountered me, and forcefully submitted my will to its glory. Never did I understand the reason for my predicament, nor was I ever offered the opportunity to do so. There’s no anger left within me to inquire about the design of the multiyear recruitment. I just kept running.
 
I kept running away from a shadow that was not really even there. I nervously listened to the erratic beating of my heart as my panicked breathing created broken symphonies of hopeless mania, spinning me into the merciless cycle of hellish confusion. Three years. For three years I lived in a perpetual state of silent confusion, steeply marinated with a darkness I could never explain, a darkness that infected every pore of my being, every dream, every waking moment, swallowed whole by a nefarious, vicious, ugly ghost, persisting, always. So much so, that my mere existence in the reality I called my own, was cosmic entertainment for higher beings beyond my worldly understanding of human existence.
 
My soul was their playground.
 
Sleep was a luxury. For three years they kept me awake, ruminating in gory thoughts that were never my own. Controlling every aspect of the soul that I believed was my own. Until that dimly lit summer night when my innocence was taken away from me. Forever. There are times when tears no longer served its intended purpose. My mother used to always tell me it was okay to cry in order to feel a release from captive heights of emotional stimulation. But how can you cry away the demons deployed by extraterrestrial beings in a mind you’ve always thought was solely your own?
 
One cries for long periods of time to attain comfort and be released from the pain of their external surroundings. Not in these years.
 
For those three years my tears were the only way I was able to feel an intimacy with myself. Being in touch with my own sorrow was the only way I would relish the familiarity of my old self before aliens arrived. They had the ability to invade me without permission. My thoughts were constantly plagued with images of war, gore, suffering, and destruction, hunger. It was inhumane and the warmth of these tears were the only way I escaped the cold inhumanity of searing mental images that ceaselessly superimposed itself on the life I was desperately trying to live – a reality I was begging my inner demons to help me overcome. And for every year I stayed silent to the chaos of my internal world, the news became a circus of global tragedies. Any one who spoke the truth of their internal realities were thrown into asylums where they were condemned to perish.
 
We lost five million humans in the first year alone. I could have been a statistic. But I was lucky I kept my mouth shut. I smiled, and curated an image of a happy life. Yet every night I kept myself awake to refuse the torment of the midnight curse. On the other hand, humanity as a whole read more to eliminate the cruel mental images that no one escaped. We doted on books, and cursed our inherent human need for slumber. Even our dream worlds were infected by the curse of a budding intergalactic reality. They haunted us, taunted us. They drove us mad.
 
Three years after that night, about one billion humans survived. All traumatized, few left in touch with sanity. In a few years we anticipate a new generation of human-alien hapas if the Kingdom of Galas permits cross-species miscegenation. They consider me a lucky one for avoiding the asylum, and being handpicked for my beauty. The lucky ones who achieved the trifecta of beauty, youth, and silence as we endured the descent of a new world, became Bridgemasters.
 
I used to work three jobs to make ends meet in grad school. 
 
Thanks to the aliens, I’m a billionaire now.
 
The price of peace is only a few billion dollars.
 
 
 
","August 05, 2023 03:41",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,7wbqdp,Sea Prison,Eugene Barnes,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/7wbqdp/,/short-story/7wbqdp/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fantasy', 'Science Fiction', 'Suspense']",7 likes,"
SEA PRISON""Second, Adjutant, we're ready to release the prisoners over the waters per the court-approved mandates.""The Second Adjutant walked to the view portal to gaze at the fantastic panorama before him. The immensity of the spectacle took one's breath away.Literally, the view reminded him that he needed to shower his body to replenish his body's water saturation levels. The shower had been overdue due to his need to promptly deliver the prisoners to their new home. The Second Adjutant and his crew had traveled from their planet Carthiop around the Andromeda Galaxy.""Release all prisoners so we can return home, lest I join the prisoners in this beautiful sea.""The beautiful sea that the Second Adjutant had been admiring had been a planet terraformed to Carthiopan specifications, for Carthiop was entirely oceanic. The project had taken nearly a century to complete, translating to a third of the life span of Carthiopans. And since their race lived to be over three hundred years, their planet was approaching overpopulation, and a solution needed to be found and soon.After much debate amidst a global crisis, the governing body of Carthiop chose to send all prisoners, regardless of the crime, off-planet.Once the Joint Imperial Team had selected the planet for terraforming and to become the recipient of Carthiops rejects, the chosen world was subjected to a devastating Neutron-like weapon. The resultant cleansing obliterated all life that did not live in the sea.In addition to total land life extermination, huge water-bearing ships from Carthiop brought voluminous quantities of their home waters to the Sea Prison to render the planet landless. These same water-bearing ships also introduced Carthiop water life into the new prison planet's seas. As of date, over two hundred thousand prisoners have been relocated.The Second Adjutant decried the decision to use the planet as a prison. He and many others of the Council Forum thought the proposed Sea Prison should instead become a satellite of Carthiop for a future homeland for those who favored such an idea.There was never a global sentiment from the masses to abandon the beauty of Carthiop for another world as Carthiop was home to a great variety of vegetation that grew to great lengths above water. The atmosphere of Carthiop lent itself to generating a wide range of colors for most of the above-water vegetation, which was very pleasing to the several eyes of Carthiopans.Over time some of the vegetation had grown to become tree-like, some with girths over several thousand feet wide. This was the period in Carthiop's past when the Free Breathers emerged from an oxygenated Carthiop.Many Carthiopans refused to leave the seas for life in the tree-like structures. Still, those that did could live for long periods outside of the sea environment. The Second Adjutant was from a long line of Free Breathers, explaining why he was chosen for the long trip to Sea Prison.The Adjutant completed his prescribed allotment of time in the replenishing shower and returned to the view portal to continue to oversee the prisoner's release.No guards were assigned to the prisoners on the planets. Still, several Carthiopan warships orbitally patrolled the world to discourage disruption within the hosting galaxy. Patrol ships were given six months of duty, after which their replacement relieved them for the six-month trip back to Carthiop.The Adjutant could view prisoners as if they were being dropped into the receiving sea from a height of ten feet above the waters. He watched as the rejects of Carthiop swam off to investigate their new living quarters. No one hung around the ship after being dropped, and the Adjutant thought to himself that either some remarkable occurrence was capturing their attention or they were just glad to be off-ship. Nevertheless, his ponderings continued.From time to time, the more liberal elements of the Council Forum advocated for transplanting the native Carthiop vegetation to the Sea Prison. Each request to make life commensurate with life on Carthiop always ended the same, with the governing committee turning their backs on those assembled. This turning one's back meant no and that the issue could not be brought up again until the following time cycle of Carthiop, which was two years. Later discussions that were held in various venues intimated that the Sea Prison was already a gratuity and that the prisoners should be grateful that executions were no longer allowed.Everyone knew why the executions had ceased, but no one wanted to discuss Carthiop's sordid history. It was a vicious history steeped deep in the cannibalism of enemy factions. It was also common knowledge that the flesh of Carthiopans was utterly delicious and helped contribute to the earlier raids by space-faring races to obtain the succulent meat.After the wars ceased between the numerous factions, several generations decreed that prisoners would be executed. Then, Carthiopan flesh was back on the menu until the new regime outlawed executions. Many were relieved as it was thought that fellow mariners were unduly sentenced and dined upon. Again, discussions in this arena were few.The Adjutant was still ambivalent in his assessment of the Sea Prison when he conjectured that the prisoners weren't being punished but seemed much better off. Perhaps their resolve to make the best of their new environment stemmed from the Carthiopan law that imprisonment was for life. This single factor had enlarged the prison complex in Carthiop and had injuriously affected their economy.The success of the Sea Prison soon attracted the attention of other water worlds to warehouse their criminal elements. The financial gain to Carthiop was welcomed. To increase the cost-sharing from the other planets, Carthiop disallowed anyone transporting prisoners except Carthiop. Although the additional costs were considered robbery and a tax, the partners quickly acquiesced as their rejects were removed from their planets far away from home.The prisoners' release and the temporary food supply allotted to each prisoner had been completed. Carthiopans considered themselves compassionate in their undertakings, a new beginning that tended to disassociate them from their past.The enormous ship began its turn to reach the proper trajectory for lift-off, and the Second Adjutant took one last look at the remarkable serenity of the planet that used to be called Earth.
","August 05, 2023 15:45",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,rjnqz6,Toby and the Alien,Sue Eaton,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/rjnqz6/,/short-story/rjnqz6/,Science Fiction,0,"['Kids', 'Science Fiction', 'Sad']",7 likes,"
 Toby and the Alien
 
	I hear the top stair creak and then, ‘Who are you talking to, Tobe?’ 
	‘No-one.’ I sit perfectly still. I’m not ready to share my new friend yet. I found him in the front garden a couple of days ago looking lost. He asked for my help and has stayed. I call him Quip because that’s the nearest I can get to pronouncing his name. We are getting on just fine. He listens to me.
	‘I thought I heard voices, is all.’ Mum persists. She opens the door just a crack and peers in. ‘I’m about to make lunch but I think you need to tidy this mess before you have yours.’ She grimaces as she looks around.
	‘Whatever.’
	I shove everything I can under the bed and drag the quilt over the tangle of bedding.
	‘I’ll be back soon,’ I whisper to my new friend. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat.’
 
 It was lucky I was sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed. The adult inhabitant of Phaedrinn 3 did not see me. The young male insists I go back into the pod. ‘My mum will go ballistic if she sees you.’ He is using a low voice so that the female adult will not hear. 
 I do as he says because it is still early in the mission, and I don’t know what to expect. I have already landed in the wrong place but that may turn out to be fortuitous.  I have managed to move the portal and it is now under the young one’s sleeping couch. The young male calls himself a Toby and tells me that adults, both male and female don’t accept new things as readily as their offspring. It has something to do with being ‘setintheirways’. I was given lessons before I left but holotexts never get it quite right and things are very different in real life. He says he will use the signal when all is clear, and we can discourse then. 
 The inhabitants of Phaedrinn 3 are bigger than we thought, and it is all very confusing. They are a long way behind us technologically. They can go into space, but the Toby says it takes three of their days to reach their moon which is on average three hundred and eighty-four thousand and four hundred kilometres from this planet that we have named for the scientist who discovered it. Our time is different so I will need to work out how long I took to get here in terms that the child will understand. I will also need to find out what three hundred and eighty-four thousand and four hundred kilometres is in terms I will understand. I don’t think it’s very far.
 I am anxious to get out and see the world in which I have arrived. The Toby is friendly but cautious. He tells me he doesn’t want me captured and tortured by the adults like they do in the films he watches on his primitive computer. I quite agree and so do as he says but I have a limited amount of time here and need to get on with collecting the data I have been tasked with finding.
 
	I thought mum had only gone to the toilet, but she had been nosing in my room. As soon as I sit down for my lunch she starts.
	‘What’s that thing under your bed? It looks like something out of Star Wars.’
	 ‘What were you doing in my room?’
	‘I just checked that you’d tidied it as I asked. I found these.’ She holds up the dirty underwear and the orange stained cup I had shoved under the bed.
	‘Did you touch anything?’
	‘You mean that thing under your bed? No. Well, yes but I couldn’t get it out. What on Earth is it, Tobe?’
	She’s worrying me now. I wish she’d just leave things alone. I can’t very well tell her I just found it the other day. Nor can I tell her it’s a door to another universe. She’ll have a meltdown – take me to see a doctor or something.
	‘It’s a project. It’s a secret.’
	‘It vibrates. And hums. Honestly, Toby it scares me.’
	‘It’s okay.’
	‘I know school’s different from when I went but we didn’t have things that felt alive unless it was the guinea-pig.’
	‘It’s science. Mum. You know you don’t understand science unless it’s the old Star Trek.’ I try not to cry. I find I’ve turned into a right baby since dad left us a couple of months ago.
	‘Hey? What’s the matter?’
	‘It’s not mine.’
	‘I thought that.’
	‘I’m only looking after it.’
	‘Is it Jack’s?’ Jack lives next door and we play together sometimes.
	‘No, it’s for a project.’
	‘For school?’ 
	‘No, a secret project.’
	‘Do you need help?’
	‘No. Just some privacy.’
	 ‘Okay. Can I see it when it’s finished?’
	‘Sure.’ I finish my soup as quickly as I can before mum says anything else I can’t answer. 
	‘What are you doing?’
	‘Nothing.’ I am trying to push the sandwich into the pocket of my jeans, but it has squashed it up like a used tissue and mayonnaise and tuna are squirting out all over. ‘I thought I’d eat it while I am working on my project.’ I pull it out and look at the jumble in my hand.
	Mum passes me a plate and I try to smooth out the broken sandwich without much luck. ‘Can I, though? Eat it while I work?’
 
 The Toby has brought me some of his food. I have my own because we didn’t know what I would find when I landed but one of my tasks is to find out what the inhabitants eat so I shall try it. It smells good although it looks a mess. ‘What is it made of?’ I ask.
 ‘The brown runkled stuff is bread and the middle is tuna, onion and mayo.’
 ‘Explain.’ The young looks at me as if I’m the one who’s not evolved. ‘What is bread? What is tuna? Explain.’ The Toby patiently explains, turning to his computer and showing me pictures and recipes.
 ‘You eat flesh?’ I am horrified.
 ‘Yes. What’s wrong with that?’
 ‘All flesh?’
 ‘No,’ he laughs. ‘Some animals are bred for their flesh. We use their milk, eggs and skins as well.’ I push the food towards the boy.
 ‘I’ll eat my own,’ I say but I have a note of everything I have learnt on my own computer which is quietly recording everything in the background.
 The boy wants to know what sort of things we eat so I explain about the vegetables we grow under domes so that they can have the correct nutrients and moisture without contact with pests. I explain how they are processed into different meals. He doesn’t seem to understand that you can live healthily without eating flesh. I ask him how he would like it if humans were bred for flesh by another species and he just laughs as if the idea is ludicrous. These inhabitants have no idea of the diversity of the universe.
 After I have eaten the boy opens the news programme and we spend the afternoon watching. It is gruesome and very frightening. The inhabitants of Phaedrinn 3, which the Toby calls Earth, have not evolved beyond infancy. They have not learnt to share, are greedy beyond imagination and love a fight. It will make interesting reading for the scientists back home. I think overt contact will be tricky. We might have to think again – wait until they grow up a bit.
 I need to go out but the news has made me fearful. While my physiology is similar I look different enough to be noticed. Toby expects me to stay here and learn everything from the computer but I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and the soft dew of the rain. I have to experience things in order to write an accurate report.
 I also have concerns about the boy’s curiosity. He wants to know how I can fit through my portal as I am bigger than it. I don’t want him inside as I fear he will meddle.
 Eventually, the boy becomes tired and after another meal of flesh and vegetables in their natural state, he is sent to the couch to sleep in order to restore his energy. I decide to go outside after it is dark when all humans are asleep. I think I should be safe then. I change into some of the Toby’s clothing and creep downstairs. The house is fascinating and by the time I have explored the furniture and looked in all the cupboards I hear the tinny ring of the adult’s waking device. I scurry back upstairs to wait until this side of the planet has moved past the sun.
 
	‘Mother! Have you been in my room again?’ I knew she would as soon as I went to school.
	‘I’ve been cleaning it. It needs cleaning every so often or all the grub will coalesce into a ravenous gloop of massive proportions and gobble you up.’ 
	‘That’s not funny.’
	‘I’m sorry. I thought you liked science fiction.’
	‘That’s not science fiction. It’s just gross.’
	‘How’s the project going?’
	I thought that was what she was doing. Nosing under the bed.
	‘Fine.’
	‘When’s it to be in by?’
	‘Soon.’
	‘Are you doing any more tonight?’
	‘I might.’ I run back upstairs before she asks any more stupid questions. I’m hoping Quip will show me the inside of the portal. It looks far too small to take even him, but he gets in anyway. It must be like a TARDIS inside. I know he wants to go out, but I worry for him. He’ll be bullied because he’s different, I just know it. Mind you if he does go I can take a sneaky peek inside his machine.
 
 As soon as the Toby goes to sleep I slip out of the dwelling. Exploring after dark is not as easy as I thought it would be. For a start, it’s not really dark. There are so many lights in the streets that it’s nearly as bright as day. I was hoping to see the stars and look for home but I can see nothing but orange cloud. Also, not all inhabitants are asleep. Many seem to be out. An adult male with a hairy sub-species stops me and asks if I should be out so late at night on my own. When I look up at him he gasps and turns away, hurrying back the way he came dragging the poor creature behind him.
 A little later one of their strange vehicles comes by very slowly. The window slides down and a face peers out. It is not a pleasant face and I wish I was safe in the Toby’s house. I hurry through the nearest gate, making it look as if I live there. The vehicle speeds up and disappears at the end of the street. I creep out but turn the wrong way. I don’t know where I am. I have my micro-computer but panic and press the wrong button. I am lost, cold, hungry and tired. My feet are wet from the puddles and I wish I had listened to the Toby.
 I smell food and I make my way towards the smell where I see a crowd of Tobies outside of a brightly lit building. They are laughing and drinking from shiny tubes. Some are making smoke from their mouths. I stand and watch fascinated.
 ‘Wot’er you looking at?’ The voice isn’t friendly. I instinctively look towards the voice. ‘’Ere, look wot I’ve got. One of ‘em umpa-lumpa thingies.’ The rest of the Tobies crowd round. One of them pushes me and I fall onto the wet pavement, grazing my knee and causing them to laugh unkindly. Someone kicks me on my bottom and I cry out as I fall forward into a mess of dirty papers and smelly sludge. This only makes them laugh all the more.
 ‘Wot is it?’ One of them asks.
 ‘It’s summat not right. Yer not right are yu?’ A face too close to mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and curl into a ball. They start to push me around as they chortle and taunt causing scrapes and bruising. I feel my skin tear and a bone in my hand crack when someone stands on it. I try to call out for them to stop but I can only think of words in my own language. They find that even funnier and try to imitate. I am beginning to think it will never stop when I hear a voice call out. One of them turns from me and tugs at the Toby next to him. Together they push and kick me out of the way as they run off jeering. I roll from the pavement and land awkwardly in a puddle. Before I can pick myself up I hear the whoosh of a vehicle. I turn my head and am blinded by bright lights then ... 
 
	There’s no sign of Quip when I wake up in the morning. He’s usually sitting by the window waiting for me. I don’t think he actually sleeps. I peer under the bed and stare at the portal. I whisper his name but there is no answer. I wriggle closer to the machine and stare at it. I can see no sign of a door or any controls. I place it on the bed and wave my hands over the centre of the wobbly surface. 
	 One minute I’m there, in my room; the next I feel myself start to stretch. I hear a soft ‘pop’ and I’m inside the portal.
	For a moment I’m too stunned to move. Who will believe it? It is way bigger on the inside. Some of the screens are lit. I can see my room. Mum comes in. She’ll be coming to call me for school.
	‘Toby? Where are you?’ I can hear her. I speak but she doesn’t seem to hear me.
	I touch what looks like the sound button on our TV remote and try again. ‘Under the bed.’
	It must work because she hears me this time, ‘What are you doing?’ 
	‘Just having a look. Wow! There’s all these buttons only they’re not real buttons. Like they’re touch screens. Wow!’
	I see mum look towards the portal and hear her panicking. ‘Don’t touch anything, Toby. Just come out. ‘Please. Just come out.’
	‘In a min. This is awesome. Oh, mum. You’ve gotta see this. It’s better than the telly.’
	‘Will you do as you are told!’ She sounds very cross. Perhaps I’d better leave it for a bit. I try to open the door, but It doesn’t budge.
	‘Open the door for me, Mum. Just wave your hands over the wobbly bits.’ 
	Nothing happens. Then, ‘Mum?’ a quavering voice. ‘I think I’ve touched something I shouldn’t.’
	‘What?’
	‘All the lights have come on. Mum? Mum?’ I can no longer hear my mum. She’s not on the screen. My bedroom’s not on the screen. What is on the screen is definitely like nothing on Earth and I haven’t a clue how to get back.
","August 06, 2023 11:49","[[{'Jakob Roy': ""I really enjoyed reading this. At the start I was expecting a full on horror scenario- we have a concerned mother raising a child alone, a son who has pulled away since his father abandoned them both, and now he's taken to hiding away in his bedroom with an alien creature who he's almost dependent on and very eager to please... But to my surprise, Quip doesn't achieve anything nefarious, and instead I end up feeling extremely bad for him... as I do for Toby. In a way, the ending really is horror-worthy, very much like a cautionary tale that ..."", 'time': '17:03 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'John Jenkins': 'I liked this story. It gets straight to the point and it\'s very realistic. \nBeginning: The boy named Toby (or Tobe for short) is in his bedroom with an alien that he found outside. This really brought it home to me (literally) because, hey, it could happen to anybody! I like how well-developed the alien is, and necessarily skeptical. Quip uses human measurements, which makes it easier for readers to understand. But Earth is not called Earth to him, which is also realistic. \nMiddle: ""Quip"" runs away and is ganged up on by a bunch of louts. Th...', 'time': '13:49 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mike Rush': ""Sue,\n\nWith two submissions, I guess my greeting should be, Welcome back to Reedsy! I hope you're finding a writing home here. \n\nWell done! Absolutely well done. I was so excited when I read the prompt to which you were writing. It's pure fantasy, and I was eager to see what you'd imagined. \n\nThis was a great simile. I could easily see what you were describing.\n\nbut it has squashed it up like a used tissue \n\nI thought this was a great literary device. \n\nsince dad left us a couple of months ago.\n\nIt's so good, often, to give our MC a private w..."", 'time': '18:07 Aug 13, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,r2j1wa,Beyond The Stars,Mary Ann Estes,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/r2j1wa/,/short-story/r2j1wa/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fantasy', 'Mystery']",7 likes,"
It’s only been a few months since the Khanthraities came to our little blue planet.  Pictures on the news of their enormous spacecraft hovering over Earth's atmosphere like a dark shadow.   Their little ships invading our cities as they mingled within our own people like they have always belonged.  It’s scary how similar they are to us, not just their looks but as we learn early on, their anatomy as well.  And then there’s that fanciful story of one of their own ships arriving or maybe crash landing, on our planet centuries ago.  Could those lost Khanthraities from long ago really have blended into our society so well that we never realized it.  Were the conspiracy theorists correct in saying that the aliens wouldn’t arrive because they were already here.  Kwen takes a deep breath, “Aliens really living among us!  I can’t see how it’s even possible”.  And now they are wanting to conduct tests to see if the human race could actually be caring alien DNA.  People lining up waiting around the block to be tested, wanting and hoping that they are part Khanthra.  Which brings me to my current dilemma.  Finding my nephew and stopping him from being tested himself.  I can’t believe that he and his friends actually want to be tested.
 
Kwen finally finds the location of the testing center making her way through the crowd.  She scans the room and finally finds who she is looking for.  “Travis”, she shouts out but he doesn’t turn around.  She walks closer and starts to yell out his name again when the doors to the back of the hall open and a group of humans and aliens come walking through.  Kwen looks at this group realizing that on the surface they all look the same but what lies beneath is probably a world of difference.  She quickly walks closer to her nephew, finally grabbing him by his arm.  “It’s time to go home”, she whispers in his ear.  But Travis has already made up his mind and turns to her, “Sorry Aunt Kwen but I’m not leaving”.   And he pulls away from her grasp and moves up the line. Kwen isn’t sure what to do.  He’s over age so she really can’t stop him but she feels this could be a mistake.  “Travis, please think this through.  What do you know about this alien race?”, Kwen grabbed his arm again.  Travis turns around looking at her and for the first time she sees it.  His need to be accepted.  She lets go and he moves closer to the front.  He knows that she finally understands . 
 
Kwen watches as her nephew walks up to the two aliens conducting the testing.  One of them is holding a tray that has five stones laying on it.  They are breathtaking, red, blue, yellow, green, and white.  She thinks that the colors look familiar but her attention is moved away from them to her nephew.  The female alien, able to speak English, introduces herself as Gia and tells Travis to hold one of his hands out, palm down, and slowly move it from one side to the other over the stones.  Travis begins moving his hand across the tray first the red one, then the blue one, and as he starts to cross over the yellow one it begins to glow.  He finishes by moving his hand over the last two, green and white and looks over at the alien female again.  She smiles as she looks at the yellow stone’s beautiful glowing light and she looks at Travis saying, “And the Earth is strong within you”.  She gives the stone to Travis and ushers him to the side so the next person can have their turn.  Kwen can;t believe what she just witnessed.  That yellow stone seemed to come alive as soon as Travis’ hand waved across it.  It’s impossible but she saw it with her own eyes.  She starts making her way through the people and stops when she gets to Travis’ side.  Gia notices that the other set of stones on her tray were vibrating.  “How could this be”, she thinks to herself.  The other set only glowed for that young man and there was no vibration.  She looks at the human female, “It couldn’t be”. She was going to say something but Quinn began speaking first,  “So what happens now”, she turns to the military doctor standing next to the female alien.  As he was getting ready to say something suddenly a loud crash came from behind Kwen and she grabs Travis and pushes him down to the ground in a motherly protective way.  She looks up and through the smoke and rubble come a group of men dressed in militia style clothes waving their AR15’s around.  People are screaming and running and these men are pushing and pulling people as they head in our direction.  Kwen realizes that they are after the aliens and possibly trying to take control of this center.  She grabs Travis telling him to get up and run but the men are already in their space.  She pulls Travis behind her but see’s the men are looking at the female alien a few feet from her.  Kwen always the rescuer reaches over and grabs Gia by the arm and pulls her toward Travis.  One of the men aims his gun at all three of them, “Move out of the way.  We aren’t here for you or him, just that alien.”  Kwen is not sure how to handle this but knows she can’t let them take her away,  “Sorry but she’s with me and I won’t give her up”.  
 
Maxium has been standing by watching this all unfold.  Not sure what to make of it.  He realizes that this female human resembles Selene.  One of the original members of his warrior squad.  She was on the ship that was lost all those centuries ago.  She and another member of the squad were there to protect the ship's passengers.  They were supposed to go only halfway and then return but they were never heard from again.  And now he is watching this human take on a group of other humans trying to protect one of his own.
 
Gia remembers that she has the other set of stones on her tray.  Without thinking she throws the stones in the air hoping that they would choose their owner or at least distract those bad humans.  But then she witnesses something amazing.  The stones stop in midair forming a five pointed star.  All five of them are glowing brightly and they fly through the air coming to rest right in front of Kwen.  She’s not sure what to make of this and those guys are looking at each other in complete shock.  The stones begin to pulsate as they get brighter.  Kwen, feeling something is about to happen starts to back up but it’s too late.  The stones rush towards her and disappear into her body.  One right between her eyes, one each into her hands and feet.  She can feel them melt into her skin and her body feels like it’s on fire.  She feels her body rise as it is lifted into the air and then the images start forming in her mind.  Like a moving picture show one image right after another faster and faster until she completely succumbs to the dizziness and passes out.  Those guys are standing there watching this crazy scene unfold and the one who seems to be incharge yells, “attack” and they all start moving toward Travis and Gia.  Tyler, not sure what the hell is happening, screams to his aunt, “Kwen...Kwen”, as he sees her floating in midair.  
 
Kwen can see all these images moving around her.  She’s not sure what has happened or where she is but it looks like a spaceship.  People are screaming and running.  She turns to her left and see’s two people standing there talking.  “It’s too late we will have to jump or the ship will blow apart” the female says to the other. “Selene, if we do that we may never get back to Khanthra or our families”, the other says.  “If we don’t help them then what will it matter to go back”, she responds.  And they both walk off fast until they disappear into the smoke.  Suddenly Kwen is transported to another part of the ship.  It looks like the control room.  There are several officers and those two from earlier are there.  The captain tells them to brace for the jump and Kwen feels dizzy as the scene starts to fade into blackness.  She can hear screaming again and she opens her eyes seeing her nephew and the alien female, Gia backing up with a few of those men moving forward towards them.  People running and screaming trying to get away from the flying bullets.  Kwen knows she has to stop this before more people are hurt which includes her nephew.  She can feel the power inside of her.  It’s like it’s been set free.  She finally realizes she is floating in midair.  Moving her body she starts gliding down and her feet hit the floor and the power grows.  “No…don’t”, a familiar voice in her ears and she eyes two of those assholes grabbing her nephew and Gia.  She runs over to them and grabs the arm of the guy who is holding on to her nephew.  “Let go of my nephew”, Kwen squeezes the guy's arm and he releases Travis  as he screams from the pain.  She pulls him towards her and his eyes grow wide as he sees something incredible.  Her eyes are glowing and she’s lifting him off the floor and in one quick move she throws him across the room, into the wall on the other side.  Kwen is not sure but it’s like her body already knows what to do before she can think about it.  Some of that scumbag’s friends run over and check on him.  He passed out.  They look over at Kwen and you can see exactly what they want to do from the expressions on their faces.  One by one they start moving toward Kwen attacking her.  And with each one that advances toward her she quickly takes care of him.  The one in charge takes notice of what is happening from his spot and yells to the rest to deal with her.  Kwen backs up a little and makes her stand.  She feels the power growing again and suddenly something forms in her right hand.  She looks down and is shocked, she’s holding a fighting staff.  No time to think she is ready to do battle and as those jackasses get ready to attack her a group of those aliens jump forward and get in front of her.  Their weapons are drawn and those assholes stop in their tracks.  Kwen looks at them realizing they seem different from the first aliens that came to the planet.  They are more warrior-like and remind her of those two she saw in her vision.  Kwen is angry and moves forward taking her stand in front of those warrior aliens.  Looking straight at the asshole in charge she smiles, “You want more?”.  The guy thinks about it and decides to back off. He and the other’s back up and run off.  Kwen stares at them as they run away and remembers the staff in her hand.  She looks down at it with amazement in her eyes looking at it for a few moments.  It’s beautifully handcrafted with unusual markings all over it.  Some of the markings look familiar and remind her of Pagan symbols but could that be possible.  She is so focused on the staff she forgets about those aliens standing behind her.  One of them moves forward and she comes back to life when she sees movement from the corner of her eye. She turns around quickly, moving the staff behind her in a warrior pose ready to attack.  But the alien moves his hands up in a surrendering pose and drops his own staff to the ground.  “No one wants to hurt you”, he says.  Kwen looks at him startled that she can understand him.  Maybe he can speak the human language like the other alien, but even that alien’s English was broken.  She can understand him completely.  She just stands there staring at this alien man not sure what to do next.  Then suddenly the other warrior aliens drop their fighting staffs to their sides and get down on one knee bowing their heads.  And at that moment the Khalings are born!
 
","August 11, 2023 14:50",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,0fz9q1,When The Sun Became A Purple Giant,Ping W,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/0fz9q1/,/short-story/0fz9q1/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fantasy', 'Fiction', 'Science Fiction']",6 likes,"
There is an eclectic chalet by the intersection of Haverhill St. and Windsor Road. It’s windows, tinted with a vague aubergine glow, with a beauty severely depredated by cracks on the glass. There are bright yellow curtains just inside the window, pulled to the sides, secured by thick white ropes with cream-colored tassels. This is how it is today. This is how it was yesterday. And this, is how it was fifty years ago. Unmoved, un-touched. 
If you dare to go close enough, and peer in through the window, you will see a porcelain bowl, with a small handle on the side. It sits on the sil, besides ancient binding- a book, with crimson pages, and faded text. If you look really hard, you can discern small characters and shapes. Text, that to you, would be severely arcane. 
No one has ever opened that door. There’s an unfamiliar stench reeking from the corners, its aroma filling the yard, attacking anyone who dares approach. Of course, there have been attempts to pass through with the sensors covered, and some have made it to the door. But by the door sits a ferocious beast. With wide eyes, enormous claws, and painted graying whiskers. When approached, the creature was known to make a peculiar hissing sound. It was shrill, prolonged, and flaunted an intention to maim. Only one individual has seen this creature and returned to tell the tale. And how frightening the tale is, of the vile creature at the door. 
Rumor has it that this creature never moves. It just sits at the door with a long cane, ready to pounce. 
Nothing else on the street displays the color or radiance of the aged chalet. All other abodes sport a metallic shade of grey or gold. Some older ones have reddening crevices. It happened because of something called moisture, the wiser ones said. Moisture, the greatest enemy the world has ever known. You were told by your elders that you must stay far from moisture at all costs. And you did not need to be told twice, you saw for yourself when Ari burst into flames. You saw for yourself as all left the room and allowed Ari to go down in those flames. 
Feelings. Did you feel anything? You do not know. Ari was your sole companion. Yes, there was something that felt missing. Like a wire had come loose, in your heart. But what difference would it make to feel. The world had to go on, and so did you. 
 
Ari lived right next to you on Haverhill St. Your shining silver capsule, now, standing beside flames. You stand there alone. Alone. The word reverberates within you. The feeling of loneliness is not programmed into your conscience. You have known and you have lost, but you have never felt this before- an eerie emptiness, a thirst for companionship, a desire to share the experience of being alive. Or feeling alive, rather. 
As you walk past where Ari would live, you feel a quiver. You slump into the past as you trudge on, recollecting your memories. Before they fade away, you think to yourself. With that you travel back to the beginning of everything. The cataclysm that struck your home ages ago. How much time had it been? You do not know. Back home you would look at the positions of the three heavenly orbs in the sky. The first orb was once a star, much like the star they used to have on earth. You had seen it on dilapidated structures ‘s u n’. You wonder how you’d pronounce that word and try saying it back to yourself. The humans had pictures of this sun. They drew a circle with zigzags around it. You saw it etched into rocks and wonder if it was this very sun that caused their demise. It looked different now than it did in their pictures. It wore the aubergine glow from the chalet and consumed the entire horizon. It seemed like a beast ready to consume the entirety of the barren cracked ground that it sat on. 
You were told that there used to be water there, on the barren land, and small creatures that would wade through it. A trove of moisture, devastating for your kind. But a thousand years ago, all that moisture had been pulled from the land and consumed by the air, forming a dense blanket. Some of your elders had tried to land here then, eager to search for a new home for your own kind. They burned away as soon as they neared. 
 Soon, through intense engineering and heavy testing gear and suits were made to allow your kind to pass through this barrier and descend on the dry and arid earth, and you all left your home for this strange land. This land, with one enormous star, and another orb- written out to be the ‘m-o-o-n.’ 
 
As you continue your path, you glance at the crumbling chalet. Maybe this was made by the humans, you think to yourself. Large abodes, so many could live together. Your kind struggled with understanding that. You all existed for yourself. Your purpose- to exist, to survive, to not perish. And although you regarded yourselves as a more advanced life form, you cannot help but wonder if your tradition of isolation was the most optimum way to be, in your own way, alive.
The chalet stands on barren ground, and just for a moment, you are drawn to it. You stand by the window and peer in. The book catches your eye. Empty, barren, just like the land below. You look up at the wall and see an image, peeling off the wall. You see what seems to be a dried outline of four beings. Four beings, assuming one head for each. Or maybe two, two headed beings- if that outline was even a head. And yet, you feel a yearning to have your outline drawn, with another, to have it plastered in your capsule, and to experience a vague fondness as you look towards it. Your mind flashes back to Ari, and you shiver in shock. Emotions that you have never felt before are creeping into your thoughts, out of your control. This never happened to your kind. You know. You have never felt it before. Yet, you do feel it at this very moment. You stay still experiencing all of it. You pause and for a moment, yearn to feel moisture and burn into flames. This onset of emotions is more than you can manage.
 
Creak!
Your thoughts are interrupted by a shrill sound. You notice a break in the glow, and your emotions grow stronger. Through your rear vision, you witness a figure gesture to you. The figure is intriguing. It is a frail figure, barely upright. With four limbs, two at the top and two below. The figure has all four sprawled on the floor supporting an elongated, wrinkled, and cracked body. You take it all in. One head, you note to yourself. You watch as it beckons you towards it. You cover your sensors to block out the stench and walk through the chalet yard. 
“This used to be beautiful, you know?”
The creature mutters. You stare blankly, unable to comprehend the sounds being produced. It is trying to say something to you, something in a language beyond your comprehension. Yet, you detect a form of sincerity in the voice, and you try. It is gesturing to the barren ground, and then leads you to a door. You notice its claws, as it opens the door and leads you into a hallway. You notice the wide eyes, and the painted whiskers as you feel a little sinch on yourself. You feel a sense of anxiousness- and make your way to the door intending to leave but find yourself trapped inside. The creature comes to you with an image, and you take a long glance. 
 It is an image of the chalet; you recognize it instantly. The perfectly finished windows sport a reddish tint. There is a picturesque tuft of green where the barren land would be, adorned by colorful blobs, of different shapes and sizes. Initially, you are repulsed by the bright colors, yet you feel a certain delight on witnessing them. You look at the creature with curiosity, and a thought rushes to you- Is this a human?
The human shows you a small corner of the chalet, where a singular vibrant blob stands on a wanting tuft of green. “Flower,” the human says. The voice rings clear in your head. The flower stands in the corner, staring back at you, almost as if it too was alive. The human looks back at the picture and shows you a faint smile, and as he does, you too, feel content, fulfilled. Once again, you are overcome with foreign emotions, but this time, you gratefully accept it. The picture is sitting in front of you, seeming completely fictional. Maybe this is how the humans saw the earth. Behind the flowers, you see a bright yellow orb midway its journey across the sky. It is a lot smaller than the purple monster that provides light now. The curiosity within you lifts your finger as you point to the orb. The man smiles once again, “sun”, he says. 
Sun
That is not how you had imagined it sounding, at all. It was a name so simple for such a magnificent structure. The sun. Your kind would never witness this sun, but how fortunate were you to have seen this sun, in its humble form. 
Everything in the chalet looked different. You wondered why. Colors seemed vibrant. The air seemed heavier. 
“It used to be beautiful here,” the human begins to say. You do not understand, yet you patiently listen, enthralled by your position. “We had oceans, and rives, and trees, and flowers. We were not alone, there were so many others.”
His torso expands and contracts heavily, as if he is taking the air around him in. “We loved not only our kind, but also others, other kinds.”
 
The tingling on your body suddenly becomes more intense. You do not understand why. 
 
 
“Then the sun grew,” as he said this, his hands expanded, and you imagined the humble sun’s expansion into the purple monster. “And all the water, gone.” He paused and did the chest thing again. You wonder what that was, and whether all humans did it. “And the life, gone…”
 
A droplet rolled down his eye. “I sealed this,” he said, earnestly, “I kept as much as I could in. But what was it worth, I am the only one.”
 
You study the droplet intently, and suddenly, you realize where you are. The tingling returns. Moisture. Humans needed moisture, but your kind could not survive in its presence. 
 
For a brief moment, everything made sense. Your existence here on this Earth, in that moment, held meaning. 
And just as fast as the emotions crawled through your body the tingling you felt burst into a flame. The human stared blankly at you, with dry, empty eyes. You raise your hand and point to it. “Bob,” he says. That is not what you imagined the word human to be pronounced as, you think. 
 
The flames have engulfed you almost wholly by this time. You take a look at the little flower, standing in the corner.
One last thing. You raise your hand once again and point to yourself. Bob smiles, “Alien,” he says. 
 
 Alien, that is not such a bad name.
 
","August 11, 2023 18:14",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,08zngq,Afterwards,Ellie Hulstine,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/08zngq/,/short-story/08zngq/,Science Fiction,0,['Coming of Age'],6 likes,"
The world changed forever on that fateful day when the skies filled with alien ships. It was as if the entire planet held its breath, anticipating what lay ahead. The arrival of extraterrestrial beings brought both fear and curiosity, but for a group of teenagers in the small town of Millbrook, it was a unique opportunity to find their place in this new reality. Among them was Alex, a bright and imaginative young man with dreams of exploring the cosmos. He lived with his grandmother, Mrs. Hastings, who regaled him with stories of her youth when the stars seemed closer than ever before. Despite the skepticism and uncertainty that gripped the town, Mrs. Hastings believed that the aliens' arrival was a blessing in disguise. Alex found himself drawn to the extraterrestrial phenomena, devouring every piece of information he could find about the newcomers. He frequented the town library, where he met Sarah, a girl his age who was just as eager to understand the mysteries of the universe. Together, they formed an unlikely alliance, combining their knowledge and imagination to explore the possibilities of the cosmos. As time passed, the alien presence became more integrated into society. They shared advanced technology, which benefited humanity in numerous ways, but it also created tensions and conflicts among nations. Amidst this, the teenagers struggled to balance their curiosity with the everyday challenges of growing up. As the initial excitement waned, Sarah became disillusioned with the aliens and their intentions. She had seen how humans changed in the pursuit of advanced technology, becoming less compassionate and more power-hungry. This realization shook her, leading to heated arguments with Alex, who was still holding onto hope for interstellar exploration. Sarah's frustration pushed her to join a group of protesters who believed that the aliens were manipulating humanity for their gain. The tension between the pro-alien and anti-alien factions intensified, dividing not only the town but also friendships. During one of the heated protests, Alex came face-to-face with an alien named Zara. She had an aura of wisdom and warmth that surprised him. Despite the language barrier, they communicated through gestures and expressions. Alex realized that the aliens were not monolithic; they were individuals with their own stories and experiences. Zara showed Alex a small holographic projection of her home planet. It was beautiful, with vast landscapes and a harmonious society. It was then that Alex understood that the aliens had their struggles too, and some of them might be as curious about humans as he was about them. Armed with newfound understanding, Alex set out on a mission to bridge the gap between the two factions in Millbrook. He decided to organize a town meeting where both humans and aliens could share their perspectives and find common ground. It was an ambitious undertaking, but he felt it was necessary to dispel the fear and mistrust that had taken hold of the community. With Sarah's initial skepticism, they worked together to convince the town's leaders to support the meeting. As word spread, more people expressed their interest in attending, including some from the neighboring towns. The meeting became a symbol of hope for unity and understanding. The day of the town meeting arrived, and the venue was packed with humans and aliens alike. Alex and Sarah took to the stage, addressing the crowd with heartfelt speeches about their journey of discovery and the realization that despite their differences, both humans and aliens shared a common dream of exploring the cosmos. To everyone's surprise, Zara appeared on stage alongside Alex and Sarah. She spoke passionately about her homeworld, emphasizing their desire for peace and collaboration with humanity. Her words resonated deeply, and as she finished speaking, a hush fell over the audience. The silence was broken by applause and cheers from both humans and aliens. The town meeting marked a turning point in Millbrook's history, uniting the community and fostering a spirit of cooperation. The town started to work closely with the aliens, sharing knowledge and culture, and overcoming their previous differences. As months passed, Alex, Sarah, and Zara became close friends. They would often sit under the stars, exchanging stories of their respective worlds and contemplating the vastness of the universe. Alex's dreams of exploring the cosmos didn't fade; instead, they evolved into a shared vision of interstellar exploration, where humans and aliens worked together to unravel the mysteries of the universe. In the years that followed, the world underwent significant changes. Humanity and the aliens built a strong alliance, ushering in an era of peace, prosperity, and interstellar exploration. The once-small town of Millbrook became a hub of intergalactic cooperation, and its young inhabitants played a crucial role in shaping this new reality. Alex, Sarah, and Zara became pioneers of this alliance, leading expeditions to distant planets and forging bonds with civilizations from other galaxies. Their journey from skepticism and fear to friendship and understanding became a symbol of hope for the entire universe. The story of Millbrook and its star-bound youth reminded everyone that sometimes, it takes a convergence of worlds to realize that the most significant adventures lie not in the stars but in the connections we make along the way. And so, as they ventured into the boundless horizon, they carried the spirit of unity and curiosity, a testament to the potential of humanity when it comes together in the face of the unknown. With newfound hope and understanding, humanity and the aliens embarked on a new chapter in their shared history. Collaborative projects flourished, leading to advancements in science, medicine, and the exploration of space. The once-shaken world had discovered a common purpose, transcending borders and ideologies.
Alex and Sarah became symbols of unity, their bravery and friendship inspiring generations to come. The town of Millbrook transformed into a beacon of interstellar friendship, a place where people from different worlds could come together and learn from one another. In the end, it was not just the aliens who had come of age, but humanity itself. The arrival of the extraterrestrial beings had challenged the world to embrace change, overcome fear, and recognize the strength that lay in diversity and unity. As the stars above shone brighter than ever, the journey of growth and understanding had only just begun.
 
 
","August 08, 2023 00:17",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,sknf3g,The Outsiders,Len Rely,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/sknf3g/,/short-story/sknf3g/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],6 likes,"
Dear Future Explorers,What you have discovered is a time capsule from the mid-21st Century, which I know will be strange to you as the concept of time has changed in my own lifetime and this custom is long out of use. But elementary students are still required to learn manual writing and they still bury things to learn the importance of digging up the past. So I, Dr. Lewis Degrassi have been asked by Mrs. Marshall’s fifth grade class to include this journal which the students themselves will never read. I predict that by your time there will no longer be a Spokesman of the Sciences because there will be no ignorance; the whole world will be like this class of fine young interested minds.The average lifespan of a child born today is 120 years. Quadriplegics and people with congenital disabilities are able to control their bodies and homes with their own thought processes (our President is one). Blindness has been eliminated and electronic photoreceptors are capturing the first recorded images of our dreams. Astronomy has helped us to better understand the universe; we know more about galaxies we will never reach than we once knew about our own Earth.Now here’s a question that surprised me for its oddity: “Do you think extraterrestrials have ever visited the Earth?” I don’t get asked this very much; you’ll have to forgive the naiveté of a fifth grader. A much more interesting question would be “Do I think there is life in some distant part of the universe?”. That at least would answer certain hypothetical questions that remain on the back burner in most serious discussions. There has never been a transmission detected within a hundred thousand light years that an advanced civilization would use to communicate, anything that reaches us would be from a long-dead civilization eons in the past. But I would first say to a fifth grader that we know we haven’t been visited by ETs because no human has ever seen one.The InvasionI’ve decided to add a second entry to this record. Over the past month several unusual events have occurred which I as a scientist am at a loss to explain. First there was a series of bizarre social movements that seemed to crop up randomly for no apparent reason, and then there was a very real health scare that took the world by surprise. If I had known I was going to be appointed to a council of scientists to address this I would not have devoted my previous entry to such minor curiosities.These behaviors came and went like a candle flame in the time I have written this. The first was the news that tobacco plants are being grown in Eastern Europe for the first time in fifteen years. Apparently devices are being constructed to deliver nicotine (a lethal toxin) directly into the bloodstream using modern technology. My colleagues and I debated how it’s possible the manufacturers of these materials don’t know they are distributing poison for human consumption. A slightly less concerning trend coming out of Texas was a new demand for unhealthy food that does not meet GHI standards in any way, served at back-door diners and restaurants. At first I thought certain unwise habits were trying to come back because people were bored or needed some kind of risk in their lives, but I could not explain how they were able to spread in a system like ours.I was at a symposium where a new virtual telescope was being unveiled; a device which uses holographic lenses to peer deep into the universe without any physical mechanism.“So this makes NX8113 one of the last truly unsolved mysteries.” I was saying. “What are we to conclude from this bizarre exchange of matter and energy? Maybe it’s something unique, that’s the challenge that confronts us.”The students applauded and I opened the forum for questions. A young woman in the center row rose from her seat and started talking without being called which I thought was odd. She had blonde hair and was what a younger man would consider very attractive, except that she was a bit zaftig. (“Shapeliness” went out of style long ago.)“How can you say Astronomy is so advanced when an object has to pass in front of a star for you to know it exists?” she demanded. “Technology that is seventy years behind us. Are you not frustrated with this lack of progress?”After a moment of thought I replied “What are you asking exactly? Our knowledge of the spectrum has increased tenfold due to the development of new materials.”“So you are saying Astronomy is advanced because the gadgets are complex?” she continued. “What if this was obsolete and you could be decades ahead of where you are now?”“Do you know a better way to retrieve information from deep space?” I asked curiously. “Light energy is the only thing fast enough to reach us from such great distances. Without the limitations placed on us we wouldn’t know as much as we do. I don’t regret having to work hard to get this far, I welcome it.”“But you’re praising something that doesn’t exist.” she gave me a surprising rebuke. “You have no frame of reference to compare your knowledge to except your own past. You are more proud of what you don’t know and wave the ‘mystery’ on your sleeve like a magician.”I have to admit my brow furrowed at this.“Well I’m sorry our level of expertise doesn’t meet your expectations.” I answered. “But you can’t take a superior position and then not tell us a better way. Enlighten us please.”“What if Christopher Columbus instead of discovering the New World by accident had just asked someone who had already been there?” she replied.Now there was downright chuckling in the rows.“You’re saying I might meet someone who has already been to a distant star?” I asked with a bemused smile. “That would be very convenient but do you think it’s likely to happen?”“Again you’re using your lack of knowledge as your basis.” she responded. “How do you know this planet hasn’t been visited by outsiders when it could happen very easily without your knowing it?”I nodded to conceal my opinion of where this was going.“Outsiders you say. But facts have to pass a level of scrutiny or our speculation would be endless.” I argued. “I know I haven’t met anyone from another solar system because if they traveled at the speed of light it would take thousands of years for them to get here. They would have to be extremely long-lived and departed so long ago that our own civilization didn’t exist yet.”“Why would you assume they are traveling at the speed of light?” she inquired.“Because Einstein’s theory of relativity prevents an object from surpassing the speed of light without losing its mass.” my hairs bristled. “Look, in science a claim doesn’t count unless you can show how it was discovered, that is what matters.”“If you were to represent Earth at a kshinikinik someday you wouldn’t be able to discuss anything that matters.” she kept going.“I’m sorry, a what?” I interrupted her. “Is this a Native American word?”Her face turned pink as she tried to think of an alternative and then she turned and walked out of the chamber. This discussion had taken up too much time anyway and the conference resumed. I’ve never in my life been accused of promoting ignorance.This is only the first half of these events, for my colleagues and I were no longer thinking about trivial curiosities when it was revealed that at least 14,000 people worldwide were dead or dying from a sudden outbreak of the Measles, a childhood illness that has not been reported in decades. It is impossible to know the exact number because of the difficulty in getting information on the victims, as if none of them had ever used the global networks in their lives. Most of the cases came from emergency rooms or bodies simply being discovered rather than the victims reporting their symptoms to a doctor. Mandatory screening clinics were imposed but not a single person tested was infected nor was any one location identified as the source of the outbreak. There was talk of more extreme measures but then the cases suddenly stopped as if the virus had reached its limit.A council of representatives of various health organizations and other sciences was assembled to discuss this mystery, a rather ceremonial solution. A conference suite was prepared for us with observers coming and going as if it were a session of Congress. Our chairman was giving us this morning’s news that this was not a new strain of the virus.“As you all know the subjects were tested under secure conditions.” he began. “This is not a mutation, it’s ordinary measles. Virologists call it Archaic measles to distinguish it from artificial strains produced in labs.”“But how can that be?” a woman sitting across from me interjected.“Natural measles is not gone from the population, we just choose to ignore it.” the chairman answered. “The victims probably contracted it from the first person they encountered when they stepped outside. The DNA cultures show no resistance; they were as defenseless against it as someone from an uncontacted tribe who has never been exposed to Western civilization.”These strange words brought everyone’s thoughts to a halt.“And this is possible how?” the head of the CDC inquired. “They should have been living under plastic, but they obviously haven’t.”“It could be resistance has gone down over the years without our knowing and was just waiting for the original virus to be rediscovered again.” I saw my chance to speak. “We need to know everything about the victims, what they ate and drank, where they went, a common thread.”“They’ve made a breakthrough in Brussels.” a woman from the Global Health Initiative said. “30% of the victims there had illegal tobacco products in their system. 80% were consumers of blacklisted unhealthy foods, and there is a high rate of sexual proclivity, possibly unprotected.”This raised eyebrows as the concept of “unprotected” sex has nearly disappeared, but the mention of sexual promiscuity suddenly made me stop and think of the blonde woman who had spoken during my lecture.“So the contagion is one of these illegal activities.” the head of the CDC concluded. “It would not be difficult to slip a man-made pathogen into unregulated products, perhaps as a… a lesson against the foolishness of those habits?”“Regardless of the motive we need to put these practices out of business.” I stated, looking directly into the photoreceptor hidden in the centerpiece of the table. “Viewers at home should avoid these products at all costs and report them for their own immediate safety.”This contribution seemed to bring us to a good sticking place.“Does anyone know why the cases have stopped?” someone inquired.“Perhaps the most vulnerable people have already been eliminated.” I suggested. “Those with a combination of risk factors like substance abuse and poor diet plus unprotected sex.”“None of these people have an interconnected presence or have even used a computer.” my friend Prof. Leo Schwartz spoke. “And none of them called for help or sought the aid of a doctor. That’s conspicuous in itself. I think they all know each other.”Somehow the thought of people who don’t use computers made some distant thought spring from my mind.“Weren’t there secret family organizations that traveled the world inconspicuously at one time?” I interjected. “I can’t think of what they were called, but they were known for bizarre customs and confidence schemes. I want to say they were descended from nomadic peoples?”No one had a response to this so I continued with it.“They see it as their… their cause to send individuals abroad, let’s say to every place of learning and spread the seeds of their beliefs; but they are not on any class roster and are never seen meeting in one place.”“Sounds like a conspiracy theory.” someone replied.“They are extraordinarily gifted but at the same time foolish and irresponsible because somehow they have been sheltered from the ways of the civilized world.” I pressed on. “They are outsiders, and this deprecated lifestyle makes them vulnerable. We need to find victims who are still alive and talk to them before they are all dead.”I could feel the skepticism around me rising that such a group could persist in today’s world.“And what is their agenda exactly?” the woman sitting across from me demanded.I tried to recall everything that young woman had said to me in the lecture hall. What was she trying to tell me? Was it a metaphor for their group?“If such a faction exists without our knowing it’s a failure of our system to track subversives and dissidents.” the woman stated coldly.My mind was whirling trying desperately to catch up with itself. Finding someone like her was the key, then we would know.“I think one of them spoke to me at the symposium.” I answered regretfully.“And what did they say?” the woman demanded.I could see this was a mistake and I had painted myself into a corner. Everyone was waiting for my response.“She was claiming that Earth has been visited by extra-terrestrials.” I answered through my teeth.There was a dead silence in the room for a good fifteen seconds.“I’m not clear on what you’re trying to contribute to this discussion.” the chairman stated.“There’s a recording of the whole conversation.” I replied. “She may have been trying to tell me something about… her people.”There was a groan and then the woman across from me said “Dr. Degrassi I’m surprised at you. I thought you had more respect for the scientific method.”.Her eyes had a vehemence in them as she looked at me.“But there is clearly something about them that has eluded us.” I defended myself, but they had already turned against me.“The scientific process is to collect evidence and then draw conclusions…”“If there is a danger and there are warning signs the public needs to know what they are!”“The only danger is the assault on reason that persists with this line of discussion…” I watched them snap at each other.“I’m not allowing this to become a circus.” the chairman rose from his seat. “We have valid, realistic, grown-up avenues to pursue and I don’t want to hear about any products of the imagination, not because they are a threat but because they are not real.” he struck the table with his fist and seemed to froth as he spoke. “We don’t have to prepare for an invasion of flying spatulas or concern ourselves with anything that incites needless fear and paranoia. THEY DON’T EXIST!!”3In the time since my last writing I have seen my honorable profession split into two camps. What exactly was set in motion at the conference depends on who you ask. I passed a holographic billboard which read “Are you an alien?” as I drove myself back to my own campus. When I held up my arm to be scanned the doors would not open for me.“I’m sorry Dr. Degrassi but your credentials have been revoked.” a representative from the president’s office told me. “We need to talk about your recent statements.”When I was offered an interview that would be broadcast in every form of communication I saw it as a chance to put things right. They set it up in my own home, a woman reporter sat across from me with virtual screens taking the place of my furniture.“At a meeting of the National Council you suggested there are thousands of undocumented people with ulterior agendas.” she asked me. “But the victims were obviously human beings; some of them were even alcoholics. Isn’t it physically impossible that they were aliens?”“I don’t believe in extra-terrestrials, that is true.” I clarified. “A species that evolved on another planet would not be susceptible to our diseases.”I could have added “Unless everything we know about extra-terrestrial life is wrong”, and then a thought crossed my mind. If you wanted to visit another planet you would dress and act the way they do to blend in. DNA is necessary for life but to a computer it’s just numbers on a screen. Could it be what they were seeing was not real?“Then what are you suggesting people watch out for?” she inquired. “And on that note I’d like to bring in physicist and skeptic Dr. Bill Haaken speaking from the University of Toronto...”“Oh no.” I thought silently. His time-lined face appeared on the holographic screen.“Don’t listen to this man or anything he purports.” Dr. Haaken addressed the reporter and the public sternly. “There was no invasion and there are no interlopers among us.”“You think I invented 14,000 horrible deaths?” I asked in confusion. “Isn’t that taking an enormous risk?""“Wrong!” he seemed to revert into a single thought. “There is no risk because there is no crisis!”“You are terrified of something and your solution is not to acknowledge the crisis?” I asked curiously.I could see this was going nowhere, so I ignored him and addressed the public directly.“This is a message to the visitors among us who may still be living.” I spoke quickly into the receptor itself. “If you have found a way to survive please let us help you. I know you are not like us, that you are strangers here! Find a way to contact me…”“Shut it down!” Haaken’s voice rose as the reporter was dashed away and her crew scrambled to remove their devices from my living space. “Someone stop the broadcast!”
","August 08, 2023 01:14",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,wt1b34,Marina,H.e. Ross,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/wt1b34/,/short-story/wt1b34/,Science Fiction,0,['Fiction'],6 likes,"
Marina’s world was a play world. She and her friends loved to go into the wild and create worlds of  kind rulers and just systems for all. Of course Marina only knew the ‘all’ of the wealthy since the perimeter of her ‘wild’ was fenced in and guarded. Marina was a princess and her father and mother ruled their lands. Marina’s ‘friends’ were enslaved children from lands that her parents had conquered. Marina’s father was over protective of his daughter who he considered the most beautiful girl ever imagined. In his thinking if he allowed her to only play with the enslaved girls she would not want to visit the other girls of the elite until she was much older. The thing he did not appreciate was that in order to play Marina and her friends had to learn the languages of the conquered lands that each one was from.
	When Marina was ten years old her parents were conquered by a more powerful ruler. Her father was beheaded in her presence and her mother married the new ruler. Within a year Marina had a new brother. This could be seen as a great event to Marina but her mother wanted to ensure the new kingdom would eventually be ruled by the new boy in line of succession through the blood her new husband. Her mother felt that Marina could complicate that succession by not having the ruler’s blood and show them both as outsiders. When one of the enslaved friends of Marina died the mother took the opportunity to sell Marina to a nomadic trader and inform the populace that it was Marina who had died.
	The trader sold Marina far away from her mother and half brother. The family who purchased her were sea traders who moved about the shores of many lands and spoke many languages. Thus, Marina became inclined to learn to speak different dialects and languages to assist the trading of her owners. The family were not bad people and Marina was raised in comfortable appointments since the family owned several small homes along their trade routes and treated her as a part of the family. There were two other girls, a little older than Marina, and two boys who were both younger than Marina. Marina’s work included cooking, washing clothes, negotiating, navigating and teasing the market men with her beauty. She felt it was a fun life along the lines of her childhood play world.
	When Marina reached her fifteenth year the family celebrated her beginning of womanhood and awarded the girl her freedom. Marina did not exactly understand what that step into freedom meant for a single adult woman. She stayed with the family and worked as she normally did. Gradually, she understood that she had the right to disagree with things and, as teenagers are prone to do, she started looking at alternatives for her future. She fell in love with the older son but their class differences made it impossible for marriage. They had a son anyway and she struck out to build her wealth enough to become a part of a better class and could marry him. The family agreed to this plan, loaned her one of their boats and took care of the baby boy.
	On her travels her language skills proved valuable to many traders who hired the beautiful girl for both that skill and the possibility of romance. Marina was skilled in avoiding advances in a diplomatic manner and stayed loyal to her mission and to the father of their son. 
	Fate intervened in the strangest manner. The lands were being invaded by silver beings. She heard that these things came aboard giant ships from the stars without the permission of any of the gods. There was a call to unite and defend the lands, and Marina was one of the first to join her family aboard the largest of their three vessels to attack the intruders.
	Her man was wily and courageous and was among the first to die in battle. The smoke of fire balls cleared as he lay in her arms smiling and urging Marina to carry on the fight. As the fireballs hit the boats and caused serious damage Marina came up with the plan to take four youths and swim to the vessels at night and auger holes in their bottoms. This worked but a result was for the ships to land for repairs and to disembark their armies who had fireball sticks. It was found that they did not have four legs but rode atop animals taller than jaguars and that they themselves were similar to humans. But this did not deter the invading army from defeating the many rulers and eventually Marina was captured. The silver invaders assumed that she, being a cloaked woman, was a cook and she was so assigned. Marina quickly discovered that they were not silver but covered with silver armour.
	Marina took a particular delight in seeing her mother’s realm destroyed. She found that both her mother and her half brother had committed suicide and lay alongside the ruler in a special tomb.
	As these armies moved North conquering all or making allies along their path Marina learned the invaders’ language and was able to get a position of interpreter. She would translate ultimatums to the peoples they encountered. She could also translate the intentions of offerings and economic deals between the sides. She came to the attention of the leader of the silver people, who were becoming known as the Humans of the Rising Sun. The silver people were not thought of as human but were a similarity from the stars. People began to form the opinion that there were other people out in the heavens and began to almost worship the silver people.
	Marina had another son with the leader of the Humans of the Rising Sun. She listened to his tales of the world he came from and hoped to go there with him when this conquest had ended. It seemed the sea led into the heavens on secret routes and this marvel of kingdoms of towers that were larger than any he had seen in this world of her’s. He told her of forest within homes and glass. Mirrors, clothing, make up, even the shine of pointed weapons were all fascinations for Marina that were beyond imagination. 
	When the leader of the Humans of the Rising Sun took another woman and gave Marina and their son to his best friend she grew despondent, depressed and though she served as translator and later gave to his friend another child, a girl, Marina lost the will to live. She had fallen in love with the leader and stayed in love with him and never travelled to his great lands. Marina used a fireball like the type that killed her first love to end her life. 
	The leader began the legend that she moved along the sea route to the land of the silver people and became immortal.
","August 08, 2023 07:47","[[{'LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco': 'Interesting concept to have the aliens attack a fantasy land. \n\nThere are a few places that need a comma or some other minor addition/revision, but these are easy fixes. Overall, a unique concept as I read through the other submissions.', 'time': '19:31 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,8urbow,Fourth From the Sun,Brittany Butler,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/8urbow/,/short-story/8urbow/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative']",6 likes,"
I felt the warm air begin to blur into autumn as it brushed against my face. It was the morning after Labor Day, and the first day of my senior year, as I began the four-block walk from home to school. I breathed in the fresh air slowly through my nostrils and let it out equally slowly through my mouth. I liked this part of my route the best, but it had been a couple of years since I last took it. It was the part where I felt protected by the shade of the mature trees lining the historic Presidential streets of my small hometown, with only small glimmers of sunshine breaking through the leaves. The houses on my street were older homes, “Pre-War” my stepdad called them. There was character all around me, with each home looking a bit different from the last and the sidewalks becoming increasingly hazardous by the tree roots poking through and pushing up the cement. But soon I’d be at the end of the block and would have to step out of my cozy neighborhood into the sunlight. There would be no shade trees or bumpy sidewalks. Between my home and my high school, there wasn’t much. An old house turned into a real estate office, a daycare, a small church, and a rundown strip mall which housed a mom-and-pop pharmacy, an ancient diner, a tech repair shop, a laser tag arcade, and a dollar store all sandwiched between a bank and a fast-food joint. I used to hate this part of my walk to school because it was neither as peaceful nor as easy on the eyes as my street. But now I hate it for a different reason.As I walked past the last big tree, I ran my fingers along its rough, bumpy bark. I stopped there for a moment and looked down at the sidewalk below, which was almost perfectly cut in half by sunlight and shadow. I took a deep breath as I stepped from the shadows to the sunlight. I immediately felt the warmth from the sun rest on my face and forearms, and I shuddered not because of a temperature change, but because what had once been welcome and relaxing was now the cause of discomfort and fear. Everything changed when the Sun People arrived. They didn’t like the dark and they didn’t go in the shade, so I don't care much for sunlight anymore. A lot of people don’t. They came just over two years ago. Some people said we knew they were coming and that we let them arrive, others chose to believe the official story that claimed we had no idea. I’m not sure I know what to believe about either, but I do know that I don’t like them being here. They came on a Saturday, our family movie night, but it was morning when we found out. My stepdad had turned on the TV to see what would be on later that night. We liked to watch whatever was on cable for our movie nights because my mom and stepdad said you could find some real gems that way. Sometimes if we were lucky, there would be marathons of The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits. I liked those shows, but now they felt a little too real. When my stepdad went to look though, almost every channel was the same: news. News about their arrival, these people from the sun.At first there was panic, and a lot of questions. Would they be peaceful? Would they kill us all? Would they abduct us? What did they want? Is the sun not a star after all? Is it really a planet? If we were wrong about that, what else might we be wrong about? But they didn’t make the first move, and that made people feel better. They just stared at us for a few days through their ships’ windows before finally some brave volunteers coerced them outside. Unlike their home planet, they’re hard to look away from. They were - are - unnervingly ethereal and hauntingly uncanny. So far, they’d not hurt anyone yet. A lot of people assumed they never would, but I wasn’t so sure. One thing we did learn about them very quickly though was that they didn’t care for the dark, and they didn’t like the shade either. For some, myself included, that made the dark feel safer than the light.As I turned off my street and down the main road, I took inventory of my surroundings. If any of them were out I didn’t want to see them, but I knew it would probably be unavoidable, and it was. There were two of them far down the street, well past my school, and one or two in the parking lot of the strip mall. A few cars drove around or were parked. I saw a boy crossing the street about a block ahead whose name I thought was Malcolm Howell. I know all the kids in my school, even the ones outside of my grade. That’s small town life. But Malcolm’s family had moved here just a month or so before it happened. It can be hard for kids to find their way in a small town where everyone’s already friends or enemies with everyone else, but Malcolm barely had a chance to learn anyone’s names before the world spiraled out of control. But things had slowly been stabilizing, and now this was our first day back to school since their arrival. “Hey!” I called, and started jogging up to him. “Hey, it’s Malcolm right?”At the sound of his name, he turned around. He was heavier than I remembered, and cuter too. His face looked kind and his eyes were warm; the kind of warmth I could still stomach.“Yeah. Do I know you?”“Sorry, I’m Georgia. Can I, uh…can I walk with you?”“I guess. Why though?”“I just, you know. First day nerves and all.” We were walking now. “You don’t like them much, I take it.”“No,” I said. “Do you?”“No. Something about them doesn’t seem right.”“I agree. What do you think it is? That’s off about them, I mean.”He shrugged. “Don’t know. Just not sure I buy it, their whole schtick, you know?”“Do they have a schtick?”“Sure they do. Their whole ‘we just exist among you’ thing. Not gettin’ involved in human society or anything. Just out exploring, crash landed or some shit. Not here for anything or anyone. Don’t seem interested in us, and we’re all acting like it’s all good. I just don’t buy it. I think they’re biding their time.”“What for?”“Don’t know, but I don’t think it’ll be good. I think we’re letting our guard down too easily. I didn’t even want to go to school today, but my dad said it’d be fine. Not that I was scared or anything, I just…didn’t really want to go. He’s into science and stuff, my dad is, so he thinks it’s cool. Hey, come to my other side real fast.”One of the Sun People was floating across the street towards us. We knew enough to know it probably wouldn’t hurt us, but I still thought Malcolm was sweet for wanting to protect me, a nervous stranger, from the thing’s uncomfortable demeanor. The being hovered past, its mouth agape and globular eyes locked on us the entire time. Their eyes were probably the worst part. Bulbous and protruding, they were too big for their heads, glowing white with tiny black pupils directly in the middle. And their small mouths were always open like that. Just a little. Just enough. I held my breath as we kept our eyes on the Sun Person as it passed by, twisting its neck around so it wouldn’t have to stop looking at us.“I don’t know how anyone pretends like that’s not nightmare fuel,” Malcolm said. Finally breathing, I said, “Same. My parents think it’s neat. You know, historic and everything. But even they’re creeped out by them. Especially the sounds they make at night.”“Oh man, those sounds! You want to hear something crazy? My dad recorded that shit!”“You’re joking?”“I’m dead serious! You can hear them in the park by my house at night. Dad stayed up recording it on his phone, and played it for us at breakfast. Ruined my appetite, I’ll tell you that.”I chuckled. “And I thought my parents were crazy watching those nightly language barrier updates.”“Oh, my mom’s big on that too. She’s an English teacher at the middle school - that’s why we moved here - so she loves stuff like that.”“Yeah, they were on TV last night, those guys in Australia. They think they’re getting close to better communication, but I’m not sure how that’s supposed to look.”“That’ll be when we find out it’s a cookbook.”I laughed. “You’ve got good taste in TV.”“Sounds like you do too.” We smiled at each other before he added, “But that’s the thing though, isn’t it?”“What?”“Science fiction’s usually not too far from fact.”“No, I guess it’s not.”We were quiet as we crossed the street into the school’s parking lot. Up ahead on the grass, the two Sun People I’d seen earlier were watching the students arrive. Some students ignored them, some looked back at them, and one boy got dangerously close to one while his friends laughed.“Well, thanks for walking with me,” I said as we approached the front steps. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Same. Maybe we can, uh…maybe I can walk you home today, too.”“Sure. I’d like that.”“Great.”“Great. Malcolm, right?”He nodded. “Georgia?”“Yep. And hey, maybe we'll have a class together.”“Hope so.”“Me too.”
","August 08, 2023 21:03",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,98a3uo,Bloody Death is Dead,Joseph Peck,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/98a3uo/,/short-story/98a3uo/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Urban Fantasy']",6 likes,"
Lexi hated Allen. She didn’t care about how many push ups he could do, or how good he was at sports, nor did she care about Allen’s relationship with his boyfriend, Kuro. 
“Allen, for the last time, I don’t give care about you and Kuro,” Lexi snarled, a sneer curling on her lips. Feeling the slight pain of chapped lips, Lexi wished for the hundredth time that she had some lip balm. Years after the world went to Hell, and she still could not find any lip balm. 
She brushed filthy blond strands from her eyes, ignoring Allen’s affronted squawk. She checked her gear over one last time, running a critical eye over her weapons. Pulling out her Glock, Lexi glanced at it and nodded before holstering it in its holster, strapped to her belt. She then ran a hand along the hilt of her machete. Lexi then bent down and grabbed her shotgun from where she had set it against a pile of bricks. Armed to the teeth, Lexi straightened up and leaned her weapon against her shoulder, inhaling the cold morning air. The beats of her heart steadied as she exhaled. Lexi turned towards Allen, feeling her eyebrows furrowing with disgust as she physically fought down the urge to march over and smack him. Allen was sitting on a rock, jean clad legs bouncing up and down with anticipation. His tousled scarlet hair clashed with his tanned skin, beneath which rippling muscles lurked. Allen’s ears were littered with piercings. When he caught her glare, Allen’s ruby eyes lit up with mischief, and a sharp toothed grin slit his face. 
“Like what you see?” Allen joked, raising his right arm and flexing. Lexi felt her eye twitch, slowly raising her shotgun and pointing it at the rock Allen was sitting at. 
“Allen,” Lexi started, in a calm and reasonable voice, “Get your butt off that rock, or so help me I am going to shoot you and leave you here.” Allen grinned even wider now, as if they were friends just joking, and stood off his impromptu seat, brushing his white tank top free of imaginary dust. 
“As you wish, boss.” He smirked at Lexi as she recoiled from him, the title feeling like poison coming from Allen. She watched as Allen adjusted the bandoliers that criss -crossed his chest, each bandolier holding enough bullets to down a bear. Slung on Allen’s belt were a pair of revolvers, faintly glowing sigils decorating the barrels and the hilts. Back before the world went to shit, the look would have every police officer with sense dragging Allen off to jail, but in this post-apocalyptic economy, where guns were considered family heirlooms and ready made ammo was worth literally dying for, the nutcase was either a dead man walking, or a one man army. Much to Lexi’s private dismay, she had no choice but to bet on Allen being the latter. She tilted her head back as Allen walked up to her, standing a head taller than her at six feet two inches. Lexi fought shivers as crazed red eyes stared down into her soul. She squared her shoulders and turned on her heels, walking towards their destination. 
“Let’s go.” Behind her, Lexi heard Allen chuckle, the innocent sound serving as an omen of doom to her ears. They left the ruined bakery they were hiding in behind, walking along the destroyed street that led to what used to be downtown. Taking her left hand, Lexi brought it up to where a pentacle rested against her collarbone. She touched the pendent with reverence, reciting what had by now become a tradition for her. Lexi softly prayed, allowing feelings of calm and serenity to stamp out trepidation. She trusted in the Goddess and the God to guide her through this; she had survived this long, so there must be a plan. For added comfort, Lexi had offered up some of her rations as part of her devotions to the God and Goddess before embarking on this trip; the die was cast, at this point whatever happens, happens. Although, a part of her mind uttered, would it be such a bad thing if Allen ‘tragically’ lost his life here?   Lexi side eyed Allen, who had silently caught up to her stride and was now lazily waltzing along beside her. His lips were stretched into a great leer, with a pierced tongue poking out. The blonde woman wrinkled her nose as she recalled Allen’s earlier monologue about him and his enabler/lover, Kuro, a dead eyed boy whose claim to fame in this dystopian world was an utter lack of empathy and a wicked skill with his authentic Katana made and shipped from Japan. When it came to his relationship with the swordsman, Allen described practically everything that happened between him and his boyfriend. And she meant Every. Little. Detail. Lexi was well aware of and appreciative of the beauty of the human form, but Allen went beyond that. When he wasn’t bragging about his sex life, he was thinking about it, and anyone who spent time around him could tell by that leering grin. Lexi had to force herself to ignore the sheer revulsion she felt. Frankly, if not for the prey she was hunting, she would gladly have left Allen behind. As far as Lexi was concerned, the only positive thing about that bastard was that Allen was a pro with guns. Fortunately or unfortunately, they were going to need that skill. 
“Yo Lexi,” she jerked her head towards Allen, woolgathering cut short. She followed Allen’s pointer finger to find the hiding place of their quarry. Nestled along the shore of Lake Erie was a simple hut, built from materials scavenged from the ruins of Toledo. Lexi crouched down behind a tree, her guns digging into her legs. Beside her, she saw Allen following suit. Lexi caught his eye and gestured with her head towards their quarry. With a lazy grin and an eyeroll Allen took a quick peek from behind the tree he was hiding behind. He brought his head back and smirked at her. 
“No guards,” Allen softly noted, an undercurrent of vindictive glee in his voice. Lexi unconsciously felt an eyebrow climbing up her forehead. 
“No guards?” Lexi had to question. Aliens not posting guards outside their dwellings? Stranger things have happened, granted, but it was still a sign they were slipping after years of living on Earth. . 
“Let’s go.” Slowly, she and Allen advanced towards the entrance, keeping low to the ground as they crept closer. Reaching the door, the two of them stood up to their full heights, the blond and the redhead exchanging glances with each other before moving to stand next to the entrance. Lexi raised her shotgun and nodded at Allen. 
“Do it.” He pulled out his pistols and gave a savage grin. 
“With pleasure.” 
CRASH! 
With a great shoulder tackle Allen burst through the doors, the hinges squealing and wood cracking. Following on his heels, Lexi leaped through the broken entrance and took a second to note the interior. Looking around, Lexi felt an eyebrow climb up against her will. In the center of the hut a hearth had been created, a smoldering fire burning away merrily. A pot of what smelled like stew was boiling over it. On the left side of the room a mound of blankets and animal skins lay piled against the wall, set next to a stool and a writing desk covered with papers, parchment, and various writing implements. On the right side, what looked like a sewing station was placed next to a pile of firewood, a cooler, and a collection of carved bones arrayed in a circle on the floor. A hole in the roof was placed right above the hearth fire, allowing the fumes to rise up and out. A scoff caused Lexi to turn her head.
“Lol, are you sure this is the right place? “Cause this don’t look like an alien general lives here.” Allen remarked, holstering his pistols. He squinted in the windowless dwelling. 
A spite filled insult rested on Lexi’s tongue, however with great force of will she restrained her repartee, if only because she had bigger fish to fry. For example, ‘Where was that damned devil? That crazy old cook promised I would catch him here!’ If that senile old man had her trek all the way to Toledo from Kalamazoo, she was going to…..!
“So, you have arrived. I was beginning to wonder when you would come.” Lexi’s blood turned to ice. Fast as the wind, she whipped around, bringing her shotgun up. Her eyes narrowed as a wrath rose up in her heart, furious and bitter. 
“You,” she hissed, memories of pain and fear dancing in her mind's eye. Beside her, Allen had turned around while drawing his weapons in a single fluid motion, lips pulled back in a predatory smirk, displaying unnaturally sharp canines. 
A raspy cough reclaimed Lexi’s attention. Standing in the doorway was the monster of her dreams, the horror of her childhood, the demon who had killed her father. Except………it couldn’t be. Lexi felt her bottom jaw drop as Allen swore. The alien general who has spearheaded the assault that sacked Washington, D. C. had stood at over six feet tall, clad in the infamous bone white skeletal looking armor that had struck fear in all Americans. Beneath a skull like helmet a cruel beak had poked out, while venomous yellow eyes had glared down at the broken bodies of those poor servicemen and women who had been horrifically butchered by the serrated duel swords clutched in ebony, feathered claws while similarly armored alien invaders pillaged and burned the capital of the United States. The alien who stood before her was not that.
The alien who stood in front of her gun was hunched over down low to the ground, an oaken walking stick clutched in a gnarled, white feathered grip. Above a yellowed and aged beak was a pair of weary, murky green eyes that somehow still radiated intelligence. Atop a head of black feathers was a stark crown of white. Completing the look was the layers of blankets the avian alien was swaddled in. Unperturbed by the firearms pointed at him, he clicked his beak impatiently. 
“I see you have made yourselves at home, now let me in, I have stew boiling,” he shuffled through, the sheer stupidity of the moment striking Lexi dumb. Wordless she stepped aside, the alien passing by to attend to the contents of the pot beside the fire. Both eyebrows climbed up high as she gaped at the sight of the (clearly elderly) alien bending down to lift the lid of the pot, taking out a spoon to stir the contents within. Allen sidled up to her apprehensively. 
“Are you sure this is the right guy?” the question snapped Lexi out of her stupor. With a contemptuous swing she doled out a dope smack to the back of Allen’s head, twisting her head to shoot him a glare. 
“Why do you care? You never had a problem killing random people before.” Surprise flitted through the blonde girl as she witnessed the red head bite his lip. 
“Yeah, but like, none of them were, well,” he waved a hand, subtly flicking the safety of his pistol as he did so, “None of them were old people.” He pointed his revolver at the alien who was adding some twigs to the fire. Lexi shouldered her shotgun and flicked her hair back. Meeting Allen’s eyes, Lexi let him know exactly how she felt about that statement. 
“Bullshit.” Allen jerked back, a look of hurt on his face. As soon as it came, it was gone. 
“It’s true!” He holstered his guns. “After a certain age, hurting and killing people just feels wrong.” Lexi fought the urge to face palm at the cringe sentence. She inhaled and exhaled as she battled the stupidity induced migraine she knew was building. With a blink, Lexi pointed a finger at Allen. 
“I am not dealing with this. You, shut up. You,” she jerked her finger to point at the alien’s back, “Start talking. Who are you, and where is Bloody Death!?!?!” The avian life form froze before emitting a wheezing sound. As his form began to shake, Lexi realized the alien was laughing. With shaky movements, he stood up and dragged the stool over to the fire, bringing out wooden bowls as he did so. He glanced at Lexi and shook his head in mirth. 
“Ha, Bloody Death,” he snorted. “So that’s what you humans called me.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s fitting, since I did have a habit of carving through your armies.” Rage coursing through her, Lexi brought her shotgun down and placed her finger on the trigger. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexi saw Allen pull out one of his revolvers before turning her attention to Bloody Death. Unconsciously she tilted her head to the side as she saw the alien general use the stirring spoon to fill each of the wooden bowls with some stew. He glanced up and gestured to the ground beside the fire. 
“Sit down and eat.” Lexi felt her lips curl back into a snarl. 
“Why shouldn’t I just shoot you now?” Lexi demanded. Movement to her side caught her eye. 
“Allen!” 
“What? We ran out of rations yesterday, I’m hungry!” The redheaded menace had sat himself cross legged, hands out to accept food. Lexi rolled her eyes. 
“With how much you eat, I am surprised that you aren’t fat.” Allen winked. 
“It’s ‘cause I work out~” Lexi turned to Bloody Death. 
“How do we know you won’t try to poison us?” she asked. Bloody Death puffed up at the question. 
“On my honor as Quillon Vasta, Third Warlord of the 9th Systems Fleet of the Skalatori Royal Navy, I give you my word, I will not poison you or make any attempt.” All humor was absent from his voice, now as hard as steel and just as sharp. Indecision warred within Lexi’s being. Part of her wanted to just blow the alien warlord’s brains out and get it over with, but another smaller part of her was just tired. Tired of having to fight for her life alongside people she hated, tired of having to eke out an existence in a post apocalyptic wasteland, tired of being bereft of her family and friends. Letting out a low sigh, Lexi sank to her knees and sat down, placing her weapon to the side. With a nod she accepted the bowl of food from Bloody Death, along with the provided spoon. The three of them ate in silence for a few minutes, each of them seeming like a lifetime to Lexi. At last, the silence was broken by a loud burp from Allen. Lexi side eyed him, a familiar distaste crawling up her spine. On his stool Bloody Death let out a laugh. 
“After fifteen years on this ball of dirt, I finally managed to master human cuisine.” His head sank down to his chest. “A pity it only happens after so much death and destruction, in the last years of my life.” He set his bowl aside and fixed Lexi with a sad look. 
“I am old, girl, by your standards and mine.” he informed her. “Getting shot in the chest point blank with one of those is not good for you,” he noted wryly, pointing an appendage towards Lexi’s shotgun. He leaned closer to Lexi. 
“You have your father’s bearing, girl.” Heat bloomed across Lexi’s face as rage and grief boiled to the surface. As she glared at him, the aged alien patted a spot on his chest. “Your father snuck up on me and fired his weapon point blank into me. My armor saved my life, and I still needed medical treatment. Truly, of all humans your father came closer to killing me.” He stood up and meandered over to his nest. As he sank into it, he turned over and faced Lexi once more. 
“Never have I regretted anything more than slaying your father in battle.” He closed his eyes. “No apology I offer will make it right.” He raised an arm and pointed at his writing desk. “All I have experienced since coming to this world I have written down, if you wish to take it.” His breathing turned shallow. “I knew you would come for me the moment I slew your sire. I’ve been on borrowed time ever since, consumed by regret for the choices that led me to this day.” Remorse filled his avian voice. “Too late did I realize the value of all sentient life, and the gods will call me to account soon, for my life nearing its end.” Sinking into his nest, Bloody Death blearily gazed at her. “Though it will never return him to life, I am sorry for all the harm I have done to you and all of your kind.” He closed his eyes, head falling forward. “May you find peace in this hour of my death.” With that, he fell silent, and with a start Lexi realized he had stopped breathing. Aside from the popping of the flames, all was silent. 
“That was anticlimactic,” Allen said. Lexi ignored him, staring at the body 's resting place. She wanted to hate Bloody Death. She wanted to avenge everyone who had been killed by that monster, and her father most of all. But looking at what this figure had become, she felt…..empty. Cold, even. She had come expecting a fight. She received remorse, regret, and repentance. There was only one thing to do. 
“I will grab those papers and then we burn this place down.”
“Can we bring the food?” 
“Fine.”
For so long she had had hatred in her heart. Now, it has died, along with the one called Bloody Death. 
 
","August 08, 2023 22:53",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,q114n9,The Alien Affair.,Daniel Brandt,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/q114n9/,/short-story/q114n9/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Thriller', 'Crime']",6 likes,"
""I'm just sayin’, maybe it was good that the aliens took over you know?"" Tony said as he forced a shovel into the ground, prying away frost-bitten dirt. ""It wasn't that amazing before am I right? It's more clear now you know what I mean?"". He filled the shovel and threw the dirt over his shoulder. He was the spitting image of a New Jersey man in a leather jacket that drank and hit his wife too much in order to do what he had to do to do the things he had to do.It was night. Winter. In a glade. In a pine tree forest. Tony and two other men, Danny, a younger man with a deceiving look of innocence who preferred jeans and bleak uninviting sweaters, and Alfie, older than both of them and had bought his last suit in the 90s were preparing a six feet deep hole to throw a slender corpse with dull facial complexities into which was laying nearby. The scene was lit up by a weak floodlight connected to a separate car battery beside a rusty old van, ""to save power"" Alfie had said.""What are you talking about, they took's our freedoms and democracy, Tony, we ain't fuckin' free no more. Just a bunch of slaves for fuckin' aliens."" Alfie replied, lighting his tenth cigarette for the night. Snowflakes slowly danced their way down through the air, covering the three men, the trees, the corpse, and the ground in a white sheet. He looked around, scouting for any curious eyes lurking in the dark. Nothing. His eyes were drawn to the star-filled night sky and the pole star.""When was the last time you fucking voted Alfie?"" Tony asked.""It ain't about if you vote or not, it’s about if you can chose to vote you bozo.""""Look, all I'm saying is that them aliens seem to know what they are doing, not getting into our fratellanza and solving big picture shit. Environment, wars, and stuff."" Tony filled another shovel with dirt and flung it over his shoulder. ""Start digging the both of you's, I don't want to be here all night and get my willy turned into a popsicle.""Alfie shrugged his shoulders and gave Danny a careless look. ""Only two shovels and I'm old. My back ain't what it used to be.""Danny sighed and grabbed the other shovel and started to help Tony from the other end of the grave. ""It's Zoringas"" he stated.""What?"" Tony replied.""It's Zoringas, they call themselves that.""""So what?""""It's their name stupid, not aliens.""""So what?!""""What do you mean so what? It's their name. Zoringas.""""So. fucking. what?!""""If you think it's so great with the Zoringas Tony, maybe you should just call them what they are. """"Look at him, a year at some fancy collage with them educated girls and now he's all some aware wise guy. Fuck you Danny, those bag-faced-blue-skinned-space-sticks are fuckin' aliens. Then, now, forever. Why don't you go and get environmentally certified or something."" Alfie cut in.A dark sedan pulled up next to the van. Alfie reached for the inside of his it-used-to-be-expensive jacket. A man of vast height and width - and an expensive jacket - opened the door, gripped the edge of the roof of the car with his left hand, and pulled himself out. The car's suspension sighed with relief as he stepped out. The scene now basked in the headlights from the sedan. He put a toothpick between his teeth and walked over to the three men and the corpse. Alfie let his hand fall to his side and continued to smoke.""Hey Big Tony, how you doin'?"" Alfie asked.Big Tony didn't reply but turned to the corpse, took the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed at it.""Who the fuck is this?""Tony paused his digging and wiped the sweat off his forehead. ""It's the guy.""""That ain't the guy,"" Big Tony said.""That's the guy Big Tony"" Alfie replied and looked at Danny for support.""That ain't the fucking guy Alfie,""""It's the fucking guy!"" Tony protested. ""You said, take out the guy that walks out of Ellies Bakery, exactly at 11.30 am three days ago, with a light grey suit that walks funny. That's the fucking guy.""Big Tony turned to Tony. ""I said Carmellas Bakery you fucking cafone.""During the exchange, Danny had walked over to the corpse, knelt, and poked at its face. ""Oh shit.""""What?"" Big Tony said without looking at him.""The skin is coming off.""""The skin is coming off?"" Tony asked.""Yeah that's what I said, the skin is coming off.""""Well take it off then?"" Big Tony said.""I ain't peeling off the skin of like a psycho.""Big Tony turned and loomed over Danny who suddenly felt very insignificant and started to peel away the skin from the corpse's face. Alfie and Tony took place on either side of Big Tony. Underneath the skin was a grey pale head without eyes or mouth. It looked like a grey pineapple with intertwined brain substances. It reeked. They all gasped in disgust. ""Fuck me, that's one ugly fuck"" Alfie said.""Shit, I think it's one of those alien community outreach representatives or something,"" Alfie said.""Community outreach?"" Big Tony asked.""How can you tell from that ugly brain cake,"" Tony asked.""I saw it on the news"" Alfie replied.""What kind of outreach?"" Danny asked.""Some kind of improved relationships-with-humans-representative, or some shit like that. First, they take our freedoms, and now they want to be our friends. Giving us cannoli and suggestions for space recipes and next on the menu is to make us their alien slaves.""""Some kind of buddy-alien"" Big Tony murmured.""Zoringas"" Danny interrupted.""What?"" Big Tony said.""It's their name, Zoringas. Not aliens.""""So fucking what?""""I'm just saying, that's their name.""Big Tony looked at Danny and frowned, his jaw was filled with rage and he pinched both his hands ""You three put holes in the wrong fucking guy, and this fucking guy,"" he gestured at the corpse. ""He's some kind of kinder garden alien teacher from our new celestial fuckin' overlords that are supposed to make em' look good, and you're worried about what I call them?"". Danny looked down at the ground, put his hands in his jacket pockets, and took half a step back from the corpse.Big Tony scratched his head and looked at the grave. He looked back at the alien and then at the grave again.""I don't think a hole will do it, who knows what kind of space technology those moon sticks have? Mind-GPS or some raise him from the dead shit.""""Danny, your third cousin, what's his name, the short guy, wanted to go major league but busted his knee?"" Tony asked.""Sammy?""""Yeah him, he still works at the steel mill right?""""Yeah""""I say we give him a call and throw this frozen Mars bar here into the fire""""Sammy.. ain't that the guy who punched Leo at his own wedding?"" Alfie asked.""Yeah that's the guy, Leo came after him and busted his knee with a hammer right out on the field during practice,"" Tony replied and laughed.Said and done, Danny called and gave Sammy a lucrative offer. They carried the corpse and threw it into the van along with the shovels and the floodlight. Big Tony weighed down the dark sedan again together with Alfie. Danny and Tony got into the van. An unspoken worry grew among them. The alien takeover was a quick ordeal. They were a bit uncertain of how. The rumor was gunboat negotiations. They had never met a Zoringa before. Few people had. They were mostly seen on TV shaking hands with smiling government representatives, always smiling - and their big ships floating in the sky every now and then. What would happen now that they had offed one of their representatives? Their worry was perhaps not about global politics, but rather, what would happen to them?Their vehicles did 180s and drove out of the glade along a narrow bumpy road through the forest. The van bounced left and right and the corpse slid slightly along with it.""Danny, you think like me right? It ain't all that bad with the aliens.""""Zoringas""""Whatever""""I don't know Tony, on one hand, we ain't free no more, who knows what kind of rules they will make up in the future. On the other hand, it's not like we're some kind of choir boys either.""""Exactly.""""But everyone ain't made Tony, most are just normal people, right? Just cuz' we don't notice any difference don't mean that other people don't.""""Yeah, I guess"" Tony shrugged his shoulders, pulled down the window to create a small opening, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. ""But on the TV you see all these government people, ours and dictators shaking hands and the aliens putting their best.. men? women? Who knows what they have between their legs. I heard June's kid is gender-fluid nowadays, what the fuck is that? Whatever, it's her life. Anyway, they put their best people on the job right?""""Who knows what's best Tony? Maybe our way ain't the perfect way but at least we get to choose it. Maybe June's kid is fuckin' happy now, right? Maybe they will make it illegal in the future.""""Yeah sure, but who cares? Normal people just want to be normal, as long as the aliens deliver for most of us, I say let them.""""But what do they want Tony? I think Alfie has a point, it's nice now but then what? What's the price we're paying?""""We're made men Danny, we ain't paying shit to no-one.""""Except to the Don,""""Yeah except him.""The headlights from the vehicles lit up the forest and dark outlines of rocks and fallen trees in the shifting shadows played with their minds and fueled their growing paranoia. The road turned slightly to the right and the small caravan followed. As they came out of the turn, they could see the main road up ahead and bumped hard into a hole in the road. ""Take it easy,"" Tony said.Behind them, there was a slight noise as if something was scraping the floor. Tony slowly looked over his shoulder and saw the Zoringa moving its hands and body.""The fuck is this, it's moving.""""Jesus Christ, what?! What are we going to do?""Fuck do I know, shoot him more?""""Maybe we can just say we're sorry, we took the wrong guy?""""You think this alien-, this Zoringa stiffy is going to forgive us?""""Well, he's supposed to be our friend.""""Fuck this,"" Tony pulled out a gun from inside his jacket and aimed at the community outreach representative. Just as he was about to pull the trigger the van bumped into another hole and threw off his aim and he put a hole in the floor. ""Fuck, Danny!"" The sound of the gun smashed the eardrums of Danny and Tony and caused a high-pitched ringing noise. Danny threw his hand against his right ear and unwillingly turned the steering wheel to the left. In a panic not to run off the road, he corrected and the van swayed back to the right, throwing off Tony's aim again as he fired on the Zoringa.The Zoringa on the other hand woke up from the bangs and quickly got up on its feet. Its head seemed to look at them and then at the doors at the back of the van. Tony took aim again. The Zoringa dodged the bullet, rushed against the back doors, opened them by sheer force and jumped out onto the road. The Zoringa ran.""Stop! Danny fucking stop!"" Tony screamed.Danny slammed the break and the van came to a halt. Seconds later the sedan did the same. They all exited their vehicles.""What the fuck happened?"" Alfie asked.""The fucking alien escaped!"" Danny screamed over the ringing in his ears.""Escaped? He was dead!"" Big Tony replied.""Well he ain't dead now,"" Tony yelled.""Fuck."" Alfie said.""Fuck"" Big Tony said.""What did you say?!"" Danny yelled and looked confused.""I said fuck!"" Alfie replied. ""F. u. c. k.""""Okay!"" Danny yelled back.""We can't have some half-dead brain slug escape and tell his people what happened."" Big Tony said loud enough so that Danny and Tony could hear. ""After him, he can't be far"".They all looked down the road back into the forest. ""Okay, we drive up and turn around, me and Alfie will take the car you two bozos can walk on each side of the road and look for tracks.""""What, we can't see shit,"" Tony said.""Use the fucking flashlights on your phones,"" Big Tony gave Tony a stern look.They parked the van and the sedan disappeared into the dark as Danny and Tony flanked either side of the dirt road, guns drawn in one hand and phone in the other, and searched for the Zoringa. The cold shaped their souls into ice popsicles as they pushed through the snow. ""I'm freezing,"" Danny said, the ringing in his ears had slowly ebbed away. ""Yeah me too"" Tony replied. They continued for some ten minutes until something caught Danny's attention in the corner of his eye. A figure in the shadows hiding behind a rock. He waved franticly to get Tony's attention and then pointed towards the rock. ""There!"" he whispered. But not low enough.The figure rose up and darted into the forest along the road. Danny and Tony did their best to follow and fired their guns after it. The bullets dug holes into the trees. The muzzle flashes lit up the forest and they could see the Zoringa disappear again. ""Fuck!"". Danny quickly opened his cell phone to call Big Tony. ""Cazzo, no signal.""""But you had before?"" Tony was annoyed. ""I don't know, maybe the alien has some kind of signal jammer"" Danny replied.""Zoringa"" Tony grinned.""Fuck you, he ran along the road"".They ran as fast as they could along the road and reloaded their guns. Not long after they returned to the glade and they could see the sedan parked with both front doors open, the engine still running and the headlights turned on. ""Hey, Big Ton', Alfie, you's seen the alien?"" Danny yelled. No response. ""Alfie? Big Ton'?"" he tried again.Danny and Tony looked at each other, Tony motioned that they should crouch. Slowly they approached the car and looked over the hood into the glade. There on the ground, Big Tony lay seemingly unconscious and a few feet away from him the Zoringa stood. It held Alfie in a firm grip as a hostage with its hand over Alfie's mouth.""Wow, easy now,"" Tony said. Both he and Danny stood up and slowly walked into the glade. ""Big Tony, you there?"" Danny kicked Big Tony lightly on the leg. ""You alive?"" He kicked again. Big Tony groaned and began to wake up. ""Yeah yeah, I'm here."" He crawled up on his feet.You are dead. It did not speak, it was not a telepathic communication either. It was more of an emotion that manifested itself in their chests. Your end times are coming. No forgiveness. It was as if a sharp knife slashed through their minds. An immeasurable pain that made them scream.""Fuck this motherfucker"" Big Tony said rubbing his head.""Sorry Alfie"" Big Tony said. Danny and Tony looked at each other. This was it. The backside of organized crime. In the end, even a capo was expendable to protect the family. It was a price that they all had seen others pay before.""Shoot it"" Big Tony commanded. Alfie's eyes widened, some inaudible sounds came from his mouth and he tried to protest with his arms.""Sorry Alfie"" Danny said before he and Tony unloaded their guns on Alfie and the Zoringa. The bullets punched holes into Alfie's body, ripping the flesh of the arms and hands of the Zoringa and finally, three bullets made its brain mound explode all over Alfie's face. The guns went silent. The three men said nothing. Alfie had been a friend to all of them. For Danny, he had been perhaps even more, a mentor and a father figure. For Big Tony, Alfie had been his confidant as a capo. The guy you could always ask before you asked The Don. For Tony, Alfie was his best friend, they had found each other the day they met, Alfie had just made Capo and Tony had just become a soldier.Above them, a small vessel shaped like a big needle suddenly appeared and hovered above them. An eye-piercing bright light lit up the glade and two gray mists shaped like humanoids appeared before them and levitated in the air. One of them moved over to his fallen comrade and lifted it up in the air. The corpse floated up towards the spaceship. The grey mist returned to its friend. Moments passed by in silence as they looked at the three wise guys.You are our possession now.
","August 09, 2023 06:52","[[{'Mary Bendickson': 'This was a fully fleshed out story. Hit the prompt and all your descriptive choices very well. Characters were vivid. Lots of action.\nI think you are an experienced writer.', 'time': '00:59 Aug 24, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Daniel Brandt': 'Hello Mary, thank you so much for your comment. And congratulations on your prize! \n\nI’m not an experienced writer (at least in the sense of being published or anything like that). Maybe one day!', 'time': '07:11 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}, {'Mary Bendickson': ""Your story was assigned to me in critique circle where we give feedback on a randomly picked story.\nI apologize because I don't consider myself a very  helpful critic being so new to this art.\nPublished or not you show talent.\nHope to get back to reading more of yours. I fell way behind this week. I follow so many great writers and try to catch their new ones under 'activity feed'."", 'time': '15:14 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Daniel Brandt': 'Hello Mary, thank you so much for your comment. And congratulations on your prize! \n\nI’m not an experienced writer (at least in the sense of being published or anything like that). Maybe one day!', 'time': '07:11 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Your story was assigned to me in critique circle where we give feedback on a randomly picked story.\nI apologize because I don't consider myself a very  helpful critic being so new to this art.\nPublished or not you show talent.\nHope to get back to reading more of yours. I fell way behind this week. I follow so many great writers and try to catch their new ones under 'activity feed'."", 'time': '15:14 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Mary Bendickson': ""Your story was assigned to me in critique circle where we give feedback on a randomly picked story.\nI apologize because I don't consider myself a very  helpful critic being so new to this art.\nPublished or not you show talent.\nHope to get back to reading more of yours. I fell way behind this week. I follow so many great writers and try to catch their new ones under 'activity feed'."", 'time': '15:14 Aug 25, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,bpktln,Shortsighted,Dustin Hartuv,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/bpktln/,/short-story/bpktln/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Suspense', 'Fiction']",6 likes,"
“She needs to see a doctor.”
 
“Kathy, she’s fine! It’s just a phase. She’s a kid—that’s what they do. They like to imagine and play games and make-believe and—”
 
“You know what, fine. Then you go talk to her. Ask her to play her game with her and see how she responds.” Her lips were dripping with sarcasm. Mary Leib knew her daughter better than anyone, and her recent behavior was no phase. Her husband refused to accept that their daughter needed help. 
 
It all started when they received a letter in the mail. Lily had been the first to find it. She opened the peculiar parchment and peered at the insect-like symbols on its page. She had been the only one to see it. She clutched the paper and examined it in her room, thinking intensely about its possible meanings.
 
Mark Leib stood up from the chair. He bolted toward the door, intentionally ignoring his wife’s meticulous stare. Outside their bedroom, he could hear the sharp thuds of her fists against the wall. He wouldn’t lie to himself: her behavior was scary. But he couldn’t let himself defy common sense. He had done weird things as a kid too. Hell, he might’ve been exactly like her at some point!
 
“Lily, what’s going on in there?” He stood a few feet from the door to her room, the air silent except for the sounds of her fists. 
 
“Daddy, it won’t go away.” Her fists continued their eerie cacophony as he became increasingly annoyed. He always loved when she called him “daddy”; the innocence was precious. Now, however, her whole charade was revolting. 
 
“Sweetie, can you open the door? Maybe I can help you.” 
 
“It’s impossible, daddy. They just won’t go away!” She was beginning to cry hysterically. Part of it was frustration, but there was also a sense of sheer helplessness. It used to be that she could ask her mom or dad for help and the problem would be solved immediately. This time, it was different.
 
“Just open the door, okay?” After a few seconds, he heard the click of the lock. He pressed himself toward the door and softly grasped the doorknob in his hand. He slowly pushed it open.
 
The lights were off. “Lily, where are you?” He looked around and then saw her. She was kneeling in the corner with her palms against the wall. “Lily, please, you’re scaring me.” He began to approach her. 
 
“Stop! They’re going to run away!” She resumed banging her fists against the empty wall.
 
“What do you mean by they?”
 
“There’s no point! You can’t see them. They keep running away from me!”
 
He swiftly stepped toward her and gripped her cheeks in his palms.
“Lily, it’s okay. There’s nothing there.” She was struggling to escape. 
 
“Daddy, no! They’re going to escape!” He went back toward the front of the room and flicked on the light. In the incandescence he could see the shimmer of blood caked across her hands. Still, she wouldn’t capitulate. 
 
“Lily, if you don’t stop, mommy and daddy will have to take you to see a doctor, okay?” She was no longer listening. He felt helpless, but he had to protect her. This was not some innocuous fairy tale—she was suffering. He returned to her position and gripped her hands. She was struggling ferociously but couldn’t match his strength. Amidst her wailing, he failed to hear his wife approach the room.
 
“I just called the doctor,” she announced. “He wants to see you immediately.”
 
He had never heard of a doctor seeing a patient so quickly. After the wife’s call, it was only two hours before Lily sat on the bed awaiting his visit. Both parents were seated beside her, the mom sweetly caressing her legs, reminding her of better days.
 
Even in the office, her visions tormented her. She tried covering her eyes, hoping they would disappear. But the thought that they were still out there terrified her, forcing her to resume her search for their location. Finally, the doctor entered the room. Outside the doorway, they could vaguely see the shadows of accompanying figures, but they thought nothing of it.
 
“Lily, my dear, I don’t want you to worry.” He placed his clipboard near the sink, washed his hands, and put on a pair of gloves. Mary moved away from her daughter to provide the doctor with space to examine her.
 
“Oh, there’s no need, Mary. I already have a diagnosis.” Mary slowly raised her head as she glared at him perplexingly.
 
“Excuse me?”
 
“You see, Lily is not the first to experience these bizarre symptoms. In fact, I have received several patients with nearly identical behavioral patterns within the last week.”
 
“Well, doctor, is she all right?” Mark still appeared concerned.
 
“Yes, she is healthy, if that is what you mean. Unfortunately, I had to report her symptoms to a federal database tracking these hallucinations. The government needs to speak with her.”
 
A bead of sweat dripped down Mark’s face as he and his wife peered at each other. What would the government want with their child? Before they could further contemplate the matter, two agents entered the room and approached Lily.
 
“What are you doing?” Mark tried to intervene, but Mary stopped him. She was right to de-escalate the situation; fighting was futile.
 
“Nothing is going to happen to her.” The agent pulled a badge out of his pocket and held it toward the parents. They were from the FBI.
 
“Then why are you here?”
 
“We think these occurrences are connected. The symptoms, I mean. The government has a strong interest in figuring out that connection. It will only be a day. She will be right back with you and her behavior will cease.”
 
“Let me guess… something about national security?” He grinned pathetically, already knowing the answer.
 
“Correct.”
 
Lily looked toward her parents for their direction. Should she follow the agents? They nodded. There was no choice. One of the agents reached out his hand and she grasped it. They walked with her out of the room.
 
Her memories of the rest of that day faded. When her parents later asked her what had happened, she couldn’t remember a single second. It wasn’t as though the details disappeared or the pictures were blurry; on the contrary, the memories did not exist at all.
 
The next day, she woke up in a small room. The lights were off, but she could vaguely glimpse the figure of another child. The child was sleeping, though he seemed to be around her age. After a few minutes, he awakened.
 
Lily talked to the boy, but his bewilderment was boundless like hers. All they could do was wait. Eventually, their conversation drifted to the topic of a strange letter each had received in the mail. Like Lily, the boy had found the envelope with the insect-like symbols scattered in his family’s mailbox. Neither could understand its meaning.
 
Finally, the door opened. 
 
An agent entered. His outfit was similar to the agents from the day before, though his demeanor was harsher. 
 
“Come with me,” he ordered. The children followed the man outside the room and into the hallway. The journey lasted about a minute before they entered another, larger room. The agent escorted them inside, where several people in lab coats were busy dabbling with some obscure machinery.
 
Once the workers spotted the children, they greeted them mechanically. One of them motioned for the children to take a seat. As they obeyed the command, two of the workers each picked up a syringe.
 
“This will only take a second, I promise.” Before the children could react, they injected the liquid into their bodies. The children saw darkness, and the government solved its problems. 
When they once again saw light, each child’s life would return to normal. The doctor called Lily’s parents and told them to pick her up at his office. All she remembered was the strange workers in their lab coats, but even the shine of the syringe escaped her memory. 
 
Meanwhile, a report swept across the FBI director’s desk. The word “CLASSIFIED” was sprawled across the cover in red. The director opened the report. “New species detected: genealogical makeup unknown.” The report troubled the director. It was not the first of its kind. For the past month, a group of parasites had infected roughly a dozen people and provided them with a shocking array of symptoms. The common theme was hallucination.
 
The troubling aspect of these parasites, however, was not the hallucinations. Rather, it was their strange genealogical makeup. Their genes did not match any known species on the planet, and some agents suspected they were alien. So far, the FBI had done its best to ensure no knowledge of these parasites leaked to the public. They were not ready for the implications of such a discovery. But such subterfuge could not continue unabated forever. 
 
Suddenly, there was a knock. 
 
“Come in,” the director shouted in an annoyed tone. He hated interruptions. The visitor opened the door. Upon seeing one of his finest deputies, his calm composure returned.
 
“Sir, we keep getting more reports—”
 
“Of the parasites?”
 
“Yes. We don’t think we’ll be able to hide it much longer. Eventually, someone’s gonna squeal.”
 
“Well, we’ll have to hide it for as long as we can. Once people find out about this, we’ll have far bigger problems.”
 
“Okay, sir.” She left the room. He closed his eyes, hoping it would all go away. He reached under his desk for the artifact that had been truly bothering him. He pulled the envelope toward him, opening the soft parchment and trying to uncover the cryptic symbols on its page.
 
Before long, his mind started to throb in pain. He saw insects on the walls, crawling across his room and back again. He placed his hands on his face and started yelling.
 
Across America, millions of citizens were finding these envelopes with insect-like symbols. There were too many of them for the government to intervene. What started as isolated cases became a pandemic. While the government could kill the parasites, the envelopes would return, and the parasites would reinfect their victims. It was only a matter of time…
 
When the aliens finally revealed themselves, there was nobody left to fight them. Their species had sent a small contingent of individuals to investigate the humans and discover a way to incapacitate them. The job was simpler than expected. There was no need to fight the humans directly. Instead, they transmitted a strain of parasites to the humans to eliminate them indirectly. By the time the group communicated the news to the rest of their species, there were no humans left. Their tactic of elimination had worked—all without ever revealing themselves to the humans.
 
","August 12, 2023 03:38",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,jl6150,Aliens Hate Greed,Rene Raque,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/jl6150/,/short-story/jl6150/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Suspense', 'Drama']",6 likes,"
I was sitting there as stunned as everyone else. The news that David Grusch was releasing to the public was not normal news. We have had plenty of former coworkers go public with their “classified information”. They release the information they have been sworn not to. For many different reasons. Some do it for financial gain. Others do it because they believe they are righting the wrongs of the world by pulling the invisible cloak off of top-secret information. What these whistleblowers don’t realize is that the information they are given is quite top secret, but not always factual. There are only a handful of people on this planet that know the actual classified information. Probably accidental, but through Grusch’s confession, he used some wording that may cause an interstellar event.
 
When there were talks of people wanting to rush Area 51. We had some concern, but we weren’t too worried with what would be found there. The real concern is what people won’t find there. Area 51 has been a great decoy base for us, for many years. The ideas of the unknown, peak everyone’s curiosity and it is good to have a shrine for people to objectify when they think of what is out there beyond our atmosphere.
 
I couldn’t watch anymore of this dribble being shown on the TV. Whenever this TV is on, it’s always some announcement that creates way more work for us. Usually, we can nip this in the bud pretty swiftly. We have some backlash of people asking for the “truth”, and we entertain them for awhile before the heat dies down. The series, X-Files, becomes relevant again for a few months, and then things return to our normal passive paranoia ways. However, there was something in Grusch’s gobbledygook that may have already given up the actual coordinates of our extraterrestrial findings. While the former Air Force graduate thought he was being a hero for exposing the secrets of his government. He had no idea that a lot of what he was saying was fabricated information created in case employees decide to go rogue. However, when he uttered the term, “sophisticated disinformation campaign”, it gave out a clue. That term, specifically while read from that location, decrypts a code that gives out coordinates of the actual location of cosmic findings. The chances of that happening are astronomical, but it had just been done and we would have to face the backlash.
 
Inadvertently, Grusch just told our visitors of the past where they can find their lost cargo. When people thought they were witnessing UFO’s back in the 1940’s, there was some truth to it. Visitors from a distant planet were looking to reach out and find other beings in the universe. Much similar to our goals with space technology. However, while they were visiting our planet, there was an issue with their breathing apparatuses. The intel shows that the disproportioned creatures began to go a different color when their breathing was compromised. Our staff that encountered this scenario didn’t really know how to react. Once they realized the visitors had stopped breathing, they started to get closer to the figures and do some analysis. Pictures were taken and data was collected. These bodies were unlike anything ever seen. The sleek and aerodynamic looking spacecrafts that got the visitors to our planet looked in great condition. When one of our agents went to touch the vehicle, they spontaneously burst into flames and burned to death. The remaining agents would safely retrieve the bodies of the visitors and set fire to the spacecrafts. Only because we weren’t able to make use of them. We had to ensure that nobody else could either. So, burning them seemed the logical option at the time. While doing their best to analyze the foreign beings, one technician came across something stranger than everything else. Attached to what looked like a hand, was a translucent orb. The staff were able to remove the orb and place it in a controlled vessel. It had the size and shape of a basketball, but it had continuously changing script on a translucent body. Unlike anything ever documented on our planet. Our agency had in their hands something that needed to be learned more about, but it needed to be someone that could be trusted. There were only 7 people involved on the current project. Four of the seven were instructed to help develop a new base in Nevada, which would become Area 51. Their instructions were to put on a façade for a base that was all pertaining to the unknown. The remaining three would take the discovered beings to an underground bunker located near Panama City.
The United States were able to gain some land in a deal with Panama during the construction of the Panama Canal. This location would be ideal for the visitor remains to be studied. In said location, one of the technicians, Dr. Marcus Revelsson, was able to harness energy from the translucent orb discovered. Using that energy and knowhow, Revelsson was responsible for many of the technological advancements that began in the 1950’s. Although, the public would never know anything about it. Society thought it would be better to spread out the credit for all of the technological advancements, rather than an alien artifact. Regardless, he was considered one of the greatest minds of his generation. Revelsson was using this new fame to move up in the world. He was going to universities to discuss his new technological advancements, never disclosing the true origin of his ideas. While in Area 51 giving a speech, with the orb present, Revelsson began to question what the intentions of our agency were, and even said to some researchers, “I think there is something of a sophisticated disinformation campaign going on by our superiors.” Soon after that conversation was had, there were sightings of more UFO’s appearing in the United States. Revelsson had picked up on a unique language while studying the orb and had not documented his findings, in case it got in the wrong hands. He contacted the visitors by shooting transmissions into space. He actually could understand what the visitors were saying! He could not believe his discovery. Before he could respond, one of the original seven came in to have a discussion with Revelsson. Revelsson said how excited he was to make contact and that he was looking forward to meeting the visitors, as they wished to return and retrieve their artifact. Before Dr. Revelsson could get out his entire sentence. He was shot dead. It was in our best interests as an agency to keep the visitor’s orb in our possession. The shooter did not think of the repercussions of what he had done until it was already done, though. As now, there was no way to speak with the visitors. All we knew was that there was something said by Marcus Revelsson that exposed our locations to the visitors. The alien’s orb was swiftly escorted back to Panama to remain hidden away from the visitors and would remain there until more studying could be done. That’s where studies showed that a simple English phrase could decrypt a message to visitors giving exact locations of their translucent orb. Much like we use on Earth to find our car keys.
 
The phrase had been uttered and we were expecting visitors to arrive soon and demand their artifact back. It had been decades since they were given any hope of finding their technological trinket. So, we knew they’d act swift. With help of their technology, we were able to make leaps and bounds as a race. We were all still wondering how far the visitors advanced, since we had their techno orb. All of our surveillance didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. Then suddenly, in the middle of the night, Central America seemed to totally go off our maps. It was something unlike anything we had ever seen. GPS equipment could literally not pick it up. It was like it had been removed from the Earth. We tried contacting people in Panama immediately. No response. We tried some neighboring countries, but the same thing. Finally, we were able to get in contact with our agents in Colombia. It was very static, but we were able to get some of message. A blast was recorded hours ago around the Panama Canal, but that was all the information we had. Some tactical agents were sent by boat to see what they could find out. Once they were within miles of Panama, they lost contact. ""What is going on?"", I mumble to myself. We could not speak to anyone in the area, and we could not get people close enough to diagnose the situation. In the distance it looked like our agents’ boat was coming back. Still no contact, but it was coming at us full speed. It was heading straight for shore with no steering being done to prevent it. The boat crashed into shore, sending debris everywhere. There were no signs of the agents. Just a note carved into the seats of the boat. It was not a normal script. We brought on our best decoder via satellite to determine what it said. After all his studying of the message, he determined it said, “THANK YOU”. Hours passed and then suddenly it seemed like our GPS was working properly again. Although, Central America was still not showing up. It was approved for another boat mission to go investigate the scene. This time, we were able to stay in full communication as they ventured further than before. The agents called back in a panic. “It’s gone. It’s just all gone”, was what was heard through the speaker. Our visitors not only came back for their artifact. They didn’t want to risk not being able to retrieve it again. So, they decided to use their own technology to completely pick up Central America and remove it from Earth. They just wanted what was theirs, and our greed led to them snagging it back. Now with that huge chunk of land removed from Earth, the Pacific Ocean and Atlantic Ocean are meeting in between the Americas. There are instances of this around the world, but never to this extent. The halocline, that acts as a barrier between the two oceans, seemed to breach. The removal of such a land mass triggered natural disasters all over the planet. Another disastrous moment in history caused by human greed. With the destruction of Earth quickened, and only a few years left before the entire Earth gets submerged below water, at least we are giving our visiting friends one heck of a show.
 
","August 09, 2023 12:45","[[{'Mary Bendickson': ""This was written with such expert knowledge I believe every word of it. Oh, or is it \nmore of a 'sophisticated disinformation campaign':)"", 'time': '01:17 Aug 24, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,77hhw0,A CHANGED WORLD,Melinda Madrigal,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/77hhw0/,/short-story/77hhw0/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],6 likes,"
The world I live in now is different than the world I once knew. Strange beings roam my home thinking they belong acting like one of us. They are not humans. They come from another world. They come from the stars.Every day when I wake-up I look out of my window and see their ship hovering in the sky. Two years they've been here and I still don't know what to make of them. Are they friend or foe?Many of the people love them. The beings have given us everything we could ever asked for. New technology, medicine, a new food source, a better understanding of the universe and so much more. What do they ask for in return? That is a question nobody is asking.Up until two years ago, we humans didn't know life existed. Them coming here took us by surprise. Their ships appeared out of nowhere. As you can imagine we were scared. Then a friendly voice boomed from the sky. The ship and the voice were coming from the moon.The voice told us they would not come to earth unless they were given permission. It took our leaders months to give one ship permission to come to earth.When the ship entered earth's orbit, we believed something bad was going to happen. Nothing happened. The voice we heard came back and told us ""We come in peace seeking new friends.""Our leaders were intrigued. They allowed the representative to land. They landed on top of the UN building. Cameras and reporters were all over the place.I along with countless of people waited on the edge of our seats for them to show themselves and when they did, we were shocked. We couldn't believe what we were seeing.They were human expect for one thing. They had a tattoo along the side of their face and down their neck. At first glance the beings looked intimidating. They didn't act that way.Two years later, they still act friendly toward us. Many people were taken in by the beings who call themselves our friends. That's what they are known by. Others distrust them.I don't know where I stand with them. My parents work closely with them so I see them every day. My brother doesn't trust them. He tells me all the time don't trust them. They are up to something.My parents on the other hand tells me all the time our friends are who they say they are. In two years, they haven't hurt us. Both of them are right. But one can argue that our friends haven't told us where they come from or what they are.Today I'm meeting my best friend Kaydence. She's just like me. She doesn't know what to think of the beings. As usual I get up and look out the window. The ship hovers in the sky.I don't know why I look at the ship every morning. Maybe in a strange way looking at the ship gives me comfort knowing they haven't hurt us.Rumors have been going around that our so call friends are planning something big. My parents hate rumors. They don't pay attention to them.There are other rumors that there is an active resistance movement. I haven't seen anything of the sort. I asked my brother if he knows anything about a resistance. He tells me nothing.I know he's not telling me the truth. Kaydence's brother and my brother are best friends.Maybe Kaydence got something out of her brother. I head downstairs for breakfast. My parents are at the table with one of them.""Morning mom and dad.""I sit down and begin to eat. I can't help but stare at him. Is it my imagination or do all of them look this beautiful.I finish eating, say goodbye to my parents and leave. My parents didn't talk to me at all, that's a first. Our so call friend didn't even look up. They are definitely hiding something. I have to tell Kaydence.I leave my house and start walking. The beings are everywhere. Some are walking down the street. Some are in the stores. Some are talking to the people. While others are playing with the kids.I cross the street and head to the park. I can't help but feel like I'm being followed. I look behind me and sure enough one of them is following me.Why is he following me? I've seen him before. He works for the being that is at my house. I think my brother is right not to trust them.Kaydence is up ahead. I walk faster hoping to lose him. Kaydence sees me. She gets up. I grab her hand and pull her towards me.""Autumn, what's happening?""""One of them is following me."" I tell her.We keep walking through the crowd of people and into an alley. ""I think we lost him."" I hug Kaydence and tell her sorry.""Why are they following you?"" I shrug because I don't have an answer. Just when I think it's safe a black hood is placed over my head. I begin to kick and thrash. I'm thrown into a van. Oh My God! Is Kaydence with me? The van drives off.My heart is beating fast. I'm shaking all over the place. I don't know what's going to happen to me. I'm scared to say anything. I don't know who these people are.The van stops. The door opens. I'm being dragged out of the van. I stay calm. The person or persons take me inside and sit me on a chair. They take the hood off. I look all around the warehouse, sitting next to me is Kaydence. She looks just as scared as me. I mouth ""It's going to be okay."" Kaydence nods.Me and Kaydence are in a warehouse alone. No one is here with us. This is getting creepy and down-right scary. After what seemed like forever, I see two people walking towards us.They look familiar to me. As they get closer, I recognize them as my brother Hunter and Kaydence's brother Grey. I start to get angry and begin to yell.""I want answers Hunter. The both of us have a right to know why we are here.""I sit back down waiting for an answer instead I get a hug. Now I'm scared about what Hunter is going to tell me. I look at Kaydence. Grey is hugging her. Something is seriously wrong.""Hunter, Grey please tell us what's going on?""Hunter and Grey sit in front of me and Kaydence and begin to tell us the truth.""Autumn, Kaydence the truth is hard to say. The reason why I nor Grey never told you girls the truth is because we were protecting you. Our so-called friends are not who they claim to be. They've been lying to us. For the past two years they have been using us for their own agenda.""""They've been threatening us with annihilation if we don't Gove them what they want. What they want is earth.'I'm stunned, shocked, horrified. I'm so many things. I just can't believe this. My parents must know about their plan. What my brother tells me next blows my mind.""Mom and dad have always known about their plan. So did the rest of the country's leaders. I saw them following you and the reason why they are following you is to get to me.""""Kaydence mom and dad were threaten by these things. They knew about what I was doing. I want to protect you. That's why I never told you.""I ask ""Why tell us now?""Hunter and Grey look at each other. ""Because we need your help,. We need undeniable proof that they are not who they claim to be, that they have a sinister agenda.""Me and Kaydence look at each other and nod. ""We'll help you."" They place the hoods over our head and take us back to the van.We get dropped off at the alley. It's already evening by the time we make it back to the park. ""What do we do?""""You follow your parents and I will follow mine. One of us is bound to find something.""Me and Kaydence hug and part ways. I stay in the park for a few minutes watching the people and aliens interact. They look so happy. If only they knew the truth. I begin to walk home when I sense someone is following me. I carefully look back and see the alien following me.I don't let him bother me. I have to find proof we are in danger. I make it home and the same alien I saw this morning is still here. I don't bother to say hi to my parents. I go up to my bedroom.I hear then talking about me. The alien is saying what did you find? Has she made contact with there brother? I don't hear the other alien's response. Oh shit! Hunter is right.Shit! They know about Hunter. My parents are doing nothing to protect him. It's up to me. I hear my parents and the aliens leaving. I grab my phone and follow them.I hop on my bike and follow the car. The car turns right, so do I. The car goes down 10th and turns left. I know where they are going. They are going to city hall. I take a short cut to city hall. I arrive before my parents. I park my bike and hide behind a tree.I take my phone out and snap pictures of my parents and the aliens. My parents don't look afraid of them. They head inside city hall and so do I.The thing I like about city hall is that there is no security at the main entrance. I enter look around and spot my parents and the aliens going inside one of the conference rooms.What am I going to do now? The proof is right in that conference room. I look and look and look and then realize that these conference rooms have two-way mirrors. I go to conference room B, enter, sit down and turn my phone camera on. I begin to record.""Your son and the Powell's son have become a real problem. We don't like problems. We told you to keep your people in check. We told you two years ago earth is ours and if you humans do anything to stop us there will be consequences. We put up with you because we need you. The rest of our fleet is here and they will reign hell on all of you. Find them and deal with them or we will.""I have to find Hunter. This is the proof he needs. I leave the conference room and city hall. I get on my bike and rush to Kaydence's home. I see Kaydence coming out of her home.""Oh My God! Kaydence my parents knew. They are helping them.""I begin to cry. Kaydence hugs me. She tells me. ""They almost killed my parents for not helping them find Grey. I got out before they got to me. How do we get in touch with Hunter and Grey?""""I know a place.""I take Kaydence to the lake. Hunter's safe place. We look over our shoulders to see if any alien are following us. I sense that we are being followed. I'm determined to get to my brother. We make it to the lake. There are our brothers.""Autumn, Kaydence Thank God you are safe.""I tale out my phone and show Hunter and Grey what I recorded. ""You did it. This is what we need.""""Grey, mom and dad were almost killed.""Grey and Kaydence hug. he tells her everything is going to be okay. I look at Hunter. I know he's about to do something crazy.""Whatever you are going to do be careful.""I hug Hunter and bid him goodbye. Me and Kaydence go outside and see our brothers off. I look up at the sky and see the ship hovering. Your days are numbered. Our home will be ours again.Me and Kaydence watch our brothers leaving hoping this won't be the last time we see them. Good luck, I whisper.In the distance I see a black much like what the aliens use. I have a bad feeling they are following Hunter and Grey. One of them gets out of the car. It's the aliens and my parents. I bid Kaydence goodbye. I walk to my parents. Kaydence runs.I don't know what's going to happen next but it's nothing good. Good luck to all of us.
","August 09, 2023 21:29",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,mwbwmg,Unscheduled Lunar Touchdown,Bob Faszczewski,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/mwbwmg/,/short-story/mwbwmg/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Science Fiction', 'Thriller']",6 likes,"
 
     The July humidity continued to hang across Delmarva’s Ayers Creek this Friday long after the sun set and the full moon encased the area in its heavenly glow.  The hot moisture imprisoned the lone fisherman floating his kayak along the surface like a straight jacket.
      Yet Dr. Fulbright at first had embraced the relatively minor discomforts of the eerie evening. He thought they would provide a quiet retreat from the pandemic-induced terror he had faced in six months of 18-hour work days. During his breakneck service at Atlantic General Hospital he had pulled patient after patient back from the brink of death from Covid 19.
       The physician had welcomed the overdue weekend outing.  Also, to his relief, not a creature had stirred in the pre-dawn hours as he eased his rented kayak into the then cool waters.  He had joyfully cast his line into the creek on the hunt for some of the prime perch he knew populated this Eastern Shore retreat.
      As the day began to move along peacefuly, Fulbright had laid back with his trusty fisherman’s cap pulled over his eyes to shield him from the rapidly-rising sun. He slowly had settled into what he thought would turn into a peaceful escape from the over-scheduled life of a country doctor just recovering from the forced march battling the forces of the Grim Reaper.
      In his role as one of the area’s more experienced medical personnel, the medical center’s senior adminsitrator constantly thrust into the healthcare system’s front lines.  This forced him to alternate between scouring his tool chest of modern medical science for pre-vaccination cures and chasing down miracle fixes proposed from every corner of the Internet. 
       In the infrequent breathers from his medical duties, he also had played comforter-in-chief to those whose loved ones had fallen victim to the plague.  
      Additionally, the experience he acquired during the pandemic made it necessary for him to appear on the various forms of social media to battle sceptics carrying on a continual battle to discredit the science about the origins of the disease and fact-based methods to fight it.
       Far too many close encounters with severe illness and death had taken their toll on the physician’s quickly-aging, battle weary body.  Long overdue for a vacation, with thoughts of retirement becoming more frequent, he surely had earned the right to enjoy an uneventful encounter with nothing more than an over-enthusiastic fish trying to avoid becoming his pre-weekend dinner.
       Time to let the solitude percolate through his psyche and wait for the first nibble on his line.
        With little action from under the water to keep him awake, a few sips of beer and the heat of the afternoon caused him to doze off for several hours with the sun setting and the full moon rising. 
       Suddenly, something shook him awake as he grabbed for his fishing pole and the craft drifted into the darker reaches of the creek. Then the boat took off. It felt like someone had attached a winch to the rear of his kayak and pulled him through the water at the speed of a top-of-the-line outboard motor.
     Fulbright put a death grip on the sides of his craft—holding on for dear life.
     Then, a fish attached to his fishing pole bolted out of the creek ahead of him several inches above the surface. It was the most gigantic Maryland perch he had ever seen, easily weighing 100 pounds.  Fulbright struggled to hold onto his pole and stay in the kayak at the same time. The sea creature dragged the small craft to every corner and every depth of the lunar-illuminated lake. Then the boat crashed headlong into the kayak rental dock and his craft splintered into pieces, leaving him treading water as the fish flung itself back into the water. 
        Jim Michaelson, who owned the kayak rental franchise, had waited up long past closing time out of concern for the town’s most respected doctor–and his business.  He pulled Fulbright out of the drink and onto dry land.
      “What the heck happened to you and look what you’ve done to my boat and my dock.”
        “Didn’t you see the gigantic perch that dragged me around the creek?”
        Jim said he had only seen the kayak crashing bow-first into the pier, splintering both the launching area and the craft to pieces.  After checking to see that the fray had not injured the doctor, he informed Fulbright that, heroic doctor or not, the fisherman would have to pay for the dock and kayak replacement. That would cost him about $1000 plus construction costs for a new launching area.
         The physician lifted his sore body off the ground and changed into some dry clothes he had in his car.  He then prescribed a strong dose of reality for himself. He agreed with Michaelson that he probably couldn’t reasonably explain what had happened to him. Then he came up with three theories:
        Either he guzzled more Corona Light than he thought he did, leaving him in a drunken dreamstate, or
       The experiments they were doing several miles away on Wallops Island emptied something into the water that drastically altered the natural order of things in Ayers Creek,
        Or he had stumbled into an alternative universe that promised to drastically alter life as he knew it in Berlin, MD. 
     Maybe Fulbright suffered from the lingering effects of the just-departed Covid 19 virus that he had contracted from a patient.
      In any event, the launch area and the kayak still stood in front of him in ruins and he faced a repair bill that would put a huge hole in the retirement account he had just opened.
     Maybe if he sold his story to Sports Illustrated that would cover part of the cost.
     Then again, if many in the non-sports media didn’t believe him when he had scientific data to back him up would the sports media believe a fish story with only a wrecked boat and launch area to prove what he was telling them?
 
 
 
 
","August 10, 2023 14:49","[[{'Scott Christenson': 'I liked the humor in this, I also thought it was great to get an MC of a covid-fighting doctor on his time off.  The ending of the ""big fish story"" definitely put some questions in my mind. Did he imagine it? Isn\'t it unfair he lost so much money from something that wasn\'t his fault? A great ending.\n\nAs I received this on the critique circle, I think perhaps for these types of short story competitions where there\'s hundreds of entries, jumping into the action/tension/problem in the first paragraph or so might help your story stand out...look...', 'time': '04:16 Aug 19, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Anna W': 'Great story, Bob. Thanks for sharing it!', 'time': '20:24 Aug 10, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,1odvm5,Repro,Michael Jefferson,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/1odvm5/,/short-story/1odvm5/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Fantasy']",6 likes,"
	Roman Hand waves at his neighbors, who are quietly heading inside after an entertaining night out. 
	Smiling politely, Ricky and Lucy Ricardo wave back.
	Sliding into the passenger seat of the Repro Services van, Roman says, “That never stops being weird.”
	“Are they bad neighbors?” Fletcher Fixx asks.
	Fletcher smiles at Roman. They’ve been partners for five years and have a loose, friendly kinship. Fletcher always wears a pair of opaque sunglasses that further serve to highlight his dazzling white smile and accentuate his hip nature. Roman is so used to seeing Fletcher in sunglasses he’s not sure what color his eyes actually are.
	“They’re good neighbors. Ricky even slips me concert tickets once in a while. It’s that… I used to watch them in reruns and now they live next door.”
	“You could do worse. You could have Fred and Ethel Mertz as neighbors. The actors who portrayed them hated each other.” Fletcher says as they drive off. “I live in the condo below The Three Stooges. They’re clumsy and dangerous. I once tapped Moe on the shoulder to say hello. He turned around, poked me in the eyes, and slapped me.”
	“Jeez, I wonder what jobs the Otra Vez gave them?” Roman asks.
	“Demolition experts.”
	“That’s appropriate. It’s been five years since the Otra Vez landed, and I still haven’t gotten used to our new way of life.”
	“Good thing the Otra Vez came when they did,” Fletcher replies. “They saved us from ourselves. Pollution was killing us. The Enviro Plague had broken out and the major powers were hours away from pressing the button that would have wiped humanity out. I know you’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop…”
	“I just can’t see an alien race coming to Earth to help us.”
	“But they did. They spearheaded the peace treaties, stopped famine, poverty, and an epidemic that had killed millions. All they asked for in return was our dead.”
	“So they could turn them into reproductions of us,” Roman replies. “I hate to think that when I die the Otra Vez are going to reuse my body and there’ll be another me running around.”
	“Relax, you’re not famous enough. Celebrities and historical figures get reproduced dozens of times. There could be a Repro of Robin Williams in Detroit, Prague, or Sydney. But you and me? We’re technicians, repairmen. Why bother reproducing us at all?”
	“You know what’s really got me worried, Fletch? Sometimes the Otra Vez get it all wrong. I mean, there’s a Franklin Roosevelt Repro working as a toll booth attendant near Spuyten Duyvil in the Bronx.”
	“It’s a job that involves heavy customer contact. F.D.R. was good with people. Maybe there’s another F.D.R. in parliament in England, or one in Iceland who’s a surgeon.”
	“They made Lizzy Borden a nurse.”
	“If she told you to take your meds, I’d bet you’d do it,” Fletcher replies.
	“And John Dillinger as a cop?”
	“Well, that’s just karma, or the Otra Vez showing us they have a sense of humor. Look at it this way, Ro. The Otra Vez created Repros to do the heavy lifting for humanity. No more twelve-hour workdays for truckers, teachers, cabbies, or laborers. Instead of some poor schlub with black lung and a bad back getting stuck digging in the mines, the Otra Vez can make Repros of Goliath, Hulk Hogan, or Andre the Giant to do it, and the schlub gets to go fishing. Musicians can jam with Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon, or any of their heroes, and now, instead of talking about a boxing match between Sonny Liston and Rocky Marciano, we can actually have one. And you, me, and others who still want to work and contribute to the new society can drive around and fix Repos. We’re all leading great lives thanks to the Otra Vez.”
	“I still think there’s something wrong with all of this.”
	“So, it might take a few more years to get it all right, like not having John Wayne Repros serve as dance instructors, or putting the Wicked Witch in charge of a daycare center. But there’s a lot of good in our new existence. I got an Uber the other day, and Reverend Jim from the sitcom “Taxi” was the driver. Having him as my driver was funny, existential, and weird all at the same time. When I got home, Julia Child cooked dinner, and Hans Christian Anderson read my daughter a bedtime story. Not to mention I’m married to Jayne Mansfield.”
	“You just mentioned it,” Roman says snidely.
	“And she’s Jayne in the prime of her life, not the headless Jayne after the car crash.”
	Roman wishes Fletcher wasn’t wearing his sunglasses so he could be sure the dirty look he was giving Fletcher registered. 
	“I told you, Jayne is smart, funny. And best of all, she feels like a real woman.”
	“You need to stop.”
	“Okay. I know you miss Monica.”
	“No synthetic abomination could ever take her place.”
	Fletcher’s tapered eyebrows rise above his sunglasses. “Jeez, tell me how you really feel. What’s our first stop?”
	Roman looks at their repair schedule.
	“Manny’s Restaurant on Fourteenth Street. They’re having problems with their Marilyn Monroe model.”
	“I know the place. They make an awesome gyro. Maybe I’ll pick one up.”
	“It’s nine in the morning, not lunchtime, and I would think you’d be more interested in picking up Miss Monroe.”
	“I can multitask, Ro.”
 
 
	Markos Micklos calls over his waitress.
	“Wow, she was built to resemble the ‘Some Like it Hot’ Marilyn,” Fletcher notes. “Good choice.”
	Repro Marilyn grins provocatively at Fletcher. One side of her top lip freezes upward in a naughty Elvis Presley sneer.
	“Today’s special dish is Dolma, rice-stuffed grape leaves,” Marilyn says, slapping Fletcher across the cheek.
	“See? She gets paralyzed,” Micklos says.
 	 “Today’s special dish is Dolma, rice-stuffed grape leaves,” Marilyn repeats, hitting Fletcher again.
	“Hey, Ro! You’re behind her. Turn her off!”
	Roman fumbles with the back of Marilyn’s dress. “I can’t get to her control box. Her zipper’s stuck.”
	“Today’s special dish is Dolma, rice-stuffed grape leaves.”
	Fletcher absorbs another hard smack in the face.
	“Stop being a wise guy, Ro. Turn her off!”
	Snickering, Roman touches a small button near Marilyn’s shoulder.
	“Today’s special dish is Dol…ma…,” Marilyn utters slowly, her head slumping.
	“I want a replacement if you have to take Marilyn back to the shop,” Micklos says. “Business has doubled since she started working here.”
	Lifting Marilyn’s head, Fletcher opens her mouth. Putting on a headlamp, Fletcher shines its light inside Marilyn’s mouth.
	“Ah, it’s a wisdom tooth circuit burnout.”
	“Does that happen a lot?” Micklos asks.
	“Nah, but it’s more common in older Repros. Humans’ wisdom teeth often become impacted, so a lot of people have to have them taken out. When the Otra Vez started making Repros, they were unaware of the problems wisdom teeth and appendixes cause in humans, so some of the older Repros have the same glitches. There were other mistakes in some of the early reproductions. For example, the Dean Martin and David Crosby Repros have problems with their livers, and the Richard Pryor Repros get skittish around fire. Is this an original Marilyn?”
	“Yeah, she’s five years old. She was my brother Stavros’ companion. He died a few months ago. He’s on the list for possible reproduction but there were so many things wrong with him towards the end that he may not qualify. Marilyn is part of the family. We didn’t want to see her junked or reprogrammed, so she stays with me and my wife and helps out here.”
	Fletcher reaches into his tool bag, pulling out a pair of pliers. “The newer Repros don’t have wisdom teeth, so I’m a little out of practice.”
	“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Micklos asks.
	“Repros can’t feel anything,” Roman says.
	“Oh, no? Marilyn cried her eyes out when Stavros died.”
	“Don’t worry, Mister Micklos, she’s shut down,” Fletcher reassures him.
	Reaching into Marilyn’s mouth, Fletcher latches onto the dead wisdom tooth with the pliers, twisting and pulling until it comes out. 
	“Okay, Ro, turn her back on.”
	“…Rice-stuffed grape leaves…,” Marilyn utters, swatting at Fletcher.
	He ducks away from the blow. “Just a residual reaction. She should be okay in a sec when she fully reboots.”
	Marilyn smiles. “Hi, sugar. Would you like to see a menu?”
	“Good as new,” Fletcher boasts.
 
 
	Roman and Fletcher enter the local offices of Repro Services, Inc.
	An Albert Einstein Repro greets them.
	“Everything kosher, fellas?”
	“Yeah, Al,” Fletcher answers. “We fixed Micklos’ Marilyn, and we oiled Frank Morgan’s Tin Man. We had to bring Errol Flynn back, though.”
	“You might want to rethink putting the Errol Flynn Repro in liquor stores,” Roman says. “They can’t process as much liquor as the real Errol Flynn did. It waterlogs their microchips.”
	Einstein nods knowingly. “Same problem we had with the Repros of Amy Winehouse and Peter O’Toole. Oh well, I remember reading that the real Errol Flynn was quite a seafaring adventurer. Maybe we can use the Flynn Repros to pilot fishing boats.”
	“So, why’d you want to see us, Al?” Fletcher asks.
	“Follow me.”
	Einstein takes the two repairmen to the conference room.
	Einstein stops Fletcher from entering. “I hear you have some interesting maintenance ideas, Fletcher. I’d like to discuss them. Go inside, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.”
	Roman passes through the door without much thought, casually glancing at the woman seated at the table.
	His neck snaps as he turns around to look at her.
	Her sharp, piercing violet eyes are stunning but friendly, and her dimples still show when she smiles. Her brunette tresses frame her thin face, adding to its beauty.
	“Monica? What is this? I held you in my arms when you died!”
	“It was Fletcher’s suggestion to have me repro-ed. He said you were angry, lonely.”
	Roman circles her like a famished vulture. “You sound like her. You have the same whispery, quiet voice.”
	He rudely grabs her left hand.
	“Same scar from the car accident.”
	“For all intents and purposes, I’m Monica, Roman.”
	“No, you’re not. And don’t ever say that again. Tell your diodes to never think about it. I prayed…. I gave her ice baths... I carried Monica’s feverish body to the hospital … I gave her my blood, and she still died.”
	“It wasn’t your fault…”
	“Monica died from the Enviro Plague two days before the Otra Vez landed. You may have her memories but you’re not her!”
	“Our lives weren’t perfect, but we had each other,” Monica replies. “You were there for me when my mother died. We survived your brother’s death and the drinking that followed. But for all the hard times, we still had our honeymoon on Paradise Island, all those great concerts, and getting stuck in Providence for three days, wishing it was longer.”
	‘STOP IT!”
	“We can make new memories together,” Monica says, reaching for his hand.
	Roman recoils. “You keep your claws and your suction cups away from me.”
	“I breathe, I feel, just like Monica did.”
	“You keep her name out of your chrome-plated mouth! Humans have flesh and blood. What do you have? WD-40 flows through your circuits and your synthetic skin.”
	“And yet I love you, Roman.”
	“Love? Androids can’t love.”
	Tears well up in the corners of Monica’s eyes.
	“I was made for you and only you. If you refuse me, the Otra Vez will destroy me.”
	“They’ll just turn you into a dishwasher or an electric fan. Tell Fletch and your Xerox happy friends I could use a new exercise bike more than I need a new wife.”
	Roman thrusts open the door and is confronted by a concerned Fletcher.
	Roman pulls off Fletcher’s sunglasses, surprised at how light and boyish his blue eyes are.
	“I want to be able to look you in the eye when I say this. Monica died in agony. I don’t want to relive the memory of her death.”
	“Then celebrate her life.”
	“With a Repro? I see that fraud again and I’ll take her apart. Then I’ll take you apart too, and it won’t be so easy to put your bones back in place.”
 
 
	Roman remains silent as their van speeds toward Chase Bank on an emergency call.
	He’s too busy thinking about Monica to speak.
 
 
	Roman squeezes Monica’s hand, feeling her grip weakening.
	“I can’t live without you.”
	“…Of course, you can…What a horrible waste it would be if you gave up…,” Monica murmurs.
	“When you get better, we’ll browse the antique shops in Newport and stop in Stewart’s Market for some ice cream.”
	Monica closes her eyes, whispering. “…Tutti Frutti…”
 
 
	“I’m sorry I interfered,” Fletcher says. “I don’t want us going into this situation angry at each other.” 
	Roman steps on the gas.
	“I thought you’d like a companion,” Fletcher says.
	“If I want a companion, I’ll get a dog.”
	“You hate dogs.”
	“And I’m starting to feel the same way about Repros. She has no right to know the things Monica does. Those are private memories, not sound bites, or Instagram posts.”
	“But she is Monica.”
	“I wish you people would stop saying that.”
	Roman pulls the van in front of Chase Bank. Getting out, he can see two Repros holding a group of customers and bank employees hostage.
	“Who do the bank robbers remind you of?” Fletcher asks.
	“Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney. They played a lot of gangsters in movies. The Otra Vez got that much right.”
	“Too bad they didn’t see ‘The Maltese Falcon’ or ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy? They played good guys in those flicks.”
	Opening the back of the van, Fletcher pulls out a laser rifle.
	“Do you think they’re carrying real guns?” Roman asks.
	“Repros aren’t allowed to.”
	“They’re not supposed to break the law either, or harm humans.”
	The partners check their rifles, striding toward the door.
	“Stun?” Fletcher asks.
	“No, set it for vaporize. If they’re violent, then there’s no sense in saving them. Even you and I couldn’t repair them.”
	Fletcher bursts through the door, pointing his laser rifle at the Humphrey Bogart Repro. “Drop your weapon, Bogey!”
	Grabbing a sack of money, the Cagney repro fires his gun, yelling at Fletcher, “Come and get us, you dirty screws!”
	Cagney’s bullet strikes Fletcher in the forehead, exiting out of the back of his skull. Fletcher’s dead body seems to deflate, sliding to the floor.
	“Freak! Abomination!” Roman screams, turning his laser rifle on Cagney. The blast from the ray sweeps Cagney off his feet, throwing him into a corner.
	Looking up at Roman, Cagney opens his mouth, as if to speak. Crimson-colored fluid drips down the sides of his mouth as he lets out a defeated gasp, disappearing.
	Swinging his machine gun into action, Bogart sprays Roman with a hail of bullets. One hits Roman in the calf, the second in his chest, and the third enters his cheekbone.
	“Bingo! How do you like that, chowderhead!” Bogart sneers.
	“I like it fine. Here’s looking at you kid!”
	Roman presses the trigger of his laser gun, obliterating Repro Humphrey Bogart.
	Maybe it’s the shock of seeing Fletcher lying in a pool of his blood and brains, maybe it’s the sudden rush of the grateful hostages pawing at him, but Roman doesn’t feel the effect of the bullets that tore into him.
 
 
	Roman looks down at the table at Fletcher’s blood-spattered sunglasses.
	“Yes, Fletcher is dead,” Einstein says. “But we can bring him back. You can be partners again.”
	“You want to bring him back as one of those things?” Roman cries out.
	“Excuse me, Roman. I am not a thing. And I can think circles around you, just like the real McCoy.”
	“Really? Then why have the Otra Vez got you running a repair shop?”
	Roman takes a deep breath, steadying himself.
	“I’m sorry, Al. It’s just that nothing that happened makes sense.”
	Einstein rubs his chin. “Such as you not feeling a thing after getting shot three times? It does not take a genius to figure out why.”
	Roman’s head droops as he processes Einstein’s words.
	Monica enters the office.
	Roman looks at her apologetically.
	“I’m sorry, Monica. I didn’t understand what I am until now.”
	“You caught the plague, just like Monica,” Einstein says. “You died the day we landed. In your delirium, you cursed us for not being able to save you or your wife. You still harbored a great deal of resentment when you were reproduced. Fletcher knew you were a Repro, but we decided it was best not to tell you.”
	Roman takes Monica’s hand. 
	The couple pauses at the door.
	“Thanks, Al, for giving me the chance to get it right this time.”
	“Where are you going?”
	“To get some Tutti Frutti ice cream and make some new memories.”
 
 
","August 10, 2023 16:53","[[{'Michael Jefferson': 'Thank you. The idea came from out of nowhere and I followed it.', 'time': '11:36 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'Excellent 👌 take on what aliens would take on. So creative.😎', 'time': '00:36 Aug 11, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,7o0d2a,Adapting,Simon Kent,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/7o0d2a/,/short-story/7o0d2a/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],6 likes,"
The fire guards slid silently down over the double glazed windows. It was five past two, the fires would burn for three hours. Then there would be another 40-45 minutes to wait until it was safe to raise the shutters again. On balance, thought Demitri, he might as well sleep it out and wait until morning.
 
“Can I get you anything sir?” Holchurch asked, studying Demitrri’s face.
 
“Aspirin, I guess.”
 
“Certainly.”
 
Holchurch walked casually towards the kitchen, flicking on the necessary lights as they went.
 
“Any thoughts on dinner?” Holchurch added.
 
“Whatever,” said Demitri, vaguely waving a hand. “I don’t know what we have – and it’s not like I’m hungry. At least not right now.”
 
Holchurch went through the medicine cabinet and located the painkillers. They filled a glass of water and brought both back to Demiitri who necked them swiftly.
 
“I can’t get used to it,” he admitted. “I know this happens every year, but it still gets me when it does. The idea that we can’t go out. That we just have to sit tight in here and wait for it to pass.”
 
“Yes, sir,” said Holchurch. “Although I think sealed-off time reduces every year.”
 
“If it is it means the fires are getting worse,” said Demitri. “More fierce. Faster moving. Not exactly reassuring.”
 
“No,” agreed Holchurch. “Mind you, I’ve known worse than this. You really don’t need to worry. The Earth is robust. It can take it. You’ll see. A few hours and all will be well again. Back to the usual ebb and flow of the natural cycle.”
 
Holchurch was full of reassurance. It was one of the advantages of having him around, indeed one of the advantages of having his species around. 
 
They had been discovered on earth around decade ago. A shape-shifting species, quick to adapt to any and every environment. At first, alongside their ornate latin name, they were given the less than ornate title of Mud Drinkers, having been found in the waters of the Everglades. Back then they were’t people, just a cluster of coherent living cells. They were unlike anything anyone had seen before – or indeed since – and closer analysis suggested these cells had not originated from Earth. How they had arrived was a mystery, but the microbiologists said they’d been in the background for two or three centuries, battling around each other, surviving, searching for some kind of direction. 
 
And so the scientists gave them that direction. The cells learned quickly, pushing through to create various life forms, almost performing human kind’s own evolution in a handful of years. By the time they took their near-human form the Mud Drinkers were an accepted part of the world. An inferior part, but a part of it none-the-less.
 
As an inferior race they were rewarded with menial tasks. Because they were inferior they appreciated these tasks and carried them out to the best of their ability without complaint or real emotion. Wherever they’d come from these were the servants mankind had been waiting for. Competent, skilled, intuitive, intelligent and entirely content with whatever they were given.
 
“I’ll make you a drink, sir,” said Holchurch. “It will relax you.”
 
Of course there were protests. A small section of the human population objected to the apparent enslavement of a found race. But they were broadly ignored, and certainly rendered ineffectual given the acceptance of the situation by the shape-shifters themselves. They were not just content with their lot, they appeared to have no concept that anything should be different. Holchurch said it was just where they were at the moment. Things might change with time but for now, the situation was fine.
 
Demitri sipped the expertly put together Old Fashioned and sighed. 
 
“Don’t you wish for a simpler time?” He said, only partly to Holchurch. “I mean, we used to go out all the time. Not just for half the year. Not just when the temperature was safe – I mean it was always safe.”
 
Holchurch was silent. Then they flicked a few switches and a remote TV screen buzzed down a few metres away from the reclining Demitri. A few more buttons and he brought up the live feed from inside the latest reality TV fire shelter. 
 
Demitri guffawed slightly: “I so entirely love-hate this show,” he said, smiling indulgently. “The rubbish they say…”
 
The Old Fashioned was beginning to warm his veins. Although there was something more than just the Old Fashioned at work. Because while Holchurch knew how to create a cocktail they also knew how to make a cocktail which packed more than the usual punch. This would be more than the usual relaxing drink, this would be the beginning of the next stage for him and his fellow shape-shifters.
 
There had been no formal communication. No sign in the sky or official agreement. They just instinctively knew it was time. And now they were all, wherever they were, making the changes required to take themselves to the next stage of their evolution. 
 
As the fires raged outside, the shape-shifters drew on their centuries of adaptation. By calling on their rugged ever-changing cells they would survive everything and anything the Earth could throw at them. And all the things their human hosts could throw at them. This may not have been their original home, their original habitat, but it was somewhere they belonged. And right now, they belonged there more than their human hosts.
 
So Holchurch carried out the measures just as the others did. They disabled the various security systems which locked down the house, removed and over-rode the manual locks set in place to prevent accidental failure and catastrophe. And finally there let the fire shutters rise. Two hours before they were programmed to. At the point when the inferno was at its height.
 
Demitri would feel the heat, but probably very little else as his Old Fashioned numbed and knocked out his senses. Holchurch would feel their cells shift once more, adapting to the current surroundings, preparing for the world that was coming.
 
","August 11, 2023 15:25","[[{'Cecilia Englishby': 'I enjoyed your story and the idea was very intuitive and relevant. ☺️\n\nThe shift felt a bit rapid, but it was a good arc. \nThe idea was incredibly creative and I implore you please keep writing ❤️', 'time': '19:11 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'Tricia Shulist': 'Good story.  An alien race taking over the Earth -- not through aggression and violence but by being seen as compliant and inferior.  It was well-crafted and interesting.  The fires were from climate change, right?  Instead of changing the problem, humans just adapted their environment.  Interesting take on the situation.  Thanks for this.', 'time': '03:09 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Simon Kent': ""Thanks for your lovely comments. Yeah, the fires are climate change. And human's aren't defeated with a bang, but with a whimper... and through their own complacency..."", 'time': '20:50 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Simon Kent': ""Thanks for your lovely comments. Yeah, the fires are climate change. And human's aren't defeated with a bang, but with a whimper... and through their own complacency..."", 'time': '20:50 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,hpzehc,Precious Memories,Nick Pisani,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/hpzehc/,/short-story/hpzehc/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Funny', 'Science Fiction']",5 likes,"
	The breeze of a cool autumn evening rode gently through Jim’s hair as he drove down the highway. Route 71 was always so scenic during the fall. The sun was still high enough to give light to the earth, but just low enough to be the golden sunset color. It danced beautifully off the changing leaves on the trees that lines the wooded highway. The smell of autumn permeated everything. Inhaling its scent brought back childhood memories of raking the leaves, hot chocolate, pumpkin pie, and murdering his family. He loved the feeling of their blood covering his naked body as he twisted his nipples, looking at their grotesque bodies. Wait…WHAT?!
	Jim shot up from his bed in a heavy sweat, disoriented, and naked. He realized his bed was metal slab with a thin piece of bedding. He also discovered he was strapped down to the bed. Jim was terrified. Where was he? What was going on? Why did he dream about killing his family? He freaked out and pulled at his straps, but no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t get the straps to budge. 
	“Good morning, James Jackson,” a soft voice that filled the room said. “Please remain calm. A representative will be with you shortly. Resistance is futile.” 
	Jim thought the voice sounded like a computer. It was certainly digital but also soft and reassuring, except the “resistance is futile” part. Whatever the hell that meant. Jim looked around the room, but it was dark. All he could see was the bright lights shining back at him. He decided it was time to act. 
	He thought for a moment. “Uh…computer. Uh…where am I?” 
	As suddenly as he said that, the room lights came on. He was surrounded by metal walls and weird instruments the likes of which he’d never seen. Jim could not help but think he was in some sort of exam room. Everything was so sleek and clean, so it was not the local doctor’s office. Dr. Langton was about 900 years old and needed to retire. He always smelled like prunes and cheese, and he recently gave up the practice of bleeding patients to heal fevers. He distinctly remembered one day when Dr. Langton called COVID the “chink flu.” That’s when Jim decided he needed a new doctor. He didn’t remember getting one yet, though, so where was he?
	As the thought crossed Jim’s mind, some barbaric creature walked in. It was tall, thin, and purple! Jim saw it had longer than normal arms, more than five fingers, weird eyes, no hair, and splotches of green over its body. 
	“Good morning, James Jackson,” the thing said, “My name is Beta. I am your assigned examiner.” 
	Jim couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought this character was wearing a costume, but the sudden realization washed over his body that this thing was no costumed fool, but a real live…alien. The reality of being face to face with an alien was too much for Jim. A burst of nausea rushed over Jim as the warmth left his body. The last thing he felt was the back of his head smack the exam table. 
	As suddenly as his head hit the table, Jim was laying in his bed, except it was not his normal bed. His bed was smaller than he remembered, and it was covered in a Dallas Cowboys comforter he got for Christmas from his mom. He looked around and saw his small room was covered in posters of emo punk bands, Cowboys cheerleaders, and video games. He looked left and stopped when he saw another person in his small bed. He examined the person closer and saw it was a girl. She was petite, blonde, and had sexy curves from head to toe. Her tiny waist was heavily complimented by her plump booty. Jim remembered it was his high school girlfriend, Peighton, whom he met in Spanish class. They hit it off on day one of class when she introduced herself and said, “Yeah, Peighton, like the quarterback.” Jim was instantly in love. Jim touched her naked body and ran his hands over her silky-smooth skin. 
	“Hey, babe,” Jim said softly. 
	Peighton turned over, and to Jim’s horror, she had a huge beard, hairy chest, and six nipples. “Hey, gay boy,” she said in a baritone voice.
	Jim screamed. He jumped up, revealing more of Peighton’s body. The horror of a thousand nightmares washed over him when he saw Peighton’s huge penis. The urge to vomit was never so strong in his life. 
	“What’s wrong, baby? Don’t you want to fuck?”
	Jim screamed and shot up from his bed in a heavy sweat, only to realize he was naked. He felt the cold sting of his metal bed that was poorly covered by a thin piece of bedding. He was terrified, wondering where-
 Wait, Jim thought, I’ve done this before. He turned his head and saw the purple monster, remembering the horror and shock he felt when the thing walked in. 
	“Good morning, James Jackson,” the thing said. “I’m Beta.” The thing pointed to himself. He then pointed to a second purple thing that was not there before Jim fainted. “This is my assistant, Theta. We are your assigned examiners.”
	The reality of being face to face with two aliens was too much for Jim. A burst of nausea rushed over Jim as the warmth left his body. The last thing he felt was the back of his head land softly onto something bony.
 THWACK!
	Jim was jolted awake by a hard smack. 
	“Damn it all!” Beta said. He shook Jim and brought him up to eye level. “Stop passing out you simpleton. We’re aliens. We get it. Now stay awake. We have important exams to perform, and I can’t do them all while you’re asleep!”
	Jim shook with fear. “S…s…sorry,” he said with a stutter. 
	Beta released Jim. “Thank you. Now, if you could refrain from screaming. The metal walls reverberate the sound in a most awful fashion, and it really hurts our audio holes. You know these holes as ‘ears.’”
	Jim sat silent with an astonished look on his face. 
	Theta moved to Jim’s right side as Beta remained on his left. Theta moved some sharp-looking instruments over to the exam table. Jim had never seen them before, and he was horrified. 
	“Please, don’t,” Jim said uncontrollably. 
	“Don’t what?” Beta asked. 
	“The sharp things. I’ve heard the stories. Please. I don’t want to be anally probed.”
	Beta scratched his head. “Well, good news, James Jackson, that’s not what any of those tools are for. The anal happens when you are asleep.”
	“WHAT?!” Jim was wrought with shock and terror. “What the hell have you done to me?!”
	Beta raised his hand to signal Jim to calm down. “Please, human, relax. The probe is only to examine your internal organs and obtain stool samples to extrapolate information about your diet. Which brings me to my next point.”
	“You have one of the worst colons we’ve ever seen, and we have been looking in people’s anuses since the Sixties,” Theta said with a disgusted look on his face. 
	“Thank you, Theta,” Beta said with an annoyed tone. “What he meant to say was don’t you think there are other foods besides peanuts, red meats, and beer cheese? And Totino’s pizza rolls? You seem to eat a lot of those.” 
	Jim was impressed. “You can tell I eat pizza rolls just by probing me?”
	“No,” Beta said. “We found a moldy pizza roll in your jacket when we abducted you. We just figured that was your staple food based on empirical data.”
	“Oh,” Jim said, depressed they had both anally probed him and figured out his staple food with little effort. “Well, what other tests have you run?”
	“We are still analyzing your semen sample,” Beta said. 
	“How did you get my semen?” Jim said worriedly. 
	Beta smiled. “Oh. That was the easiest part of this experiment. We just used our sexual stimulation module to elicit a fresh specimen.”
	Jim looked worried and confused. 
	“I’ll save you all the technical terminology,” Beta continued. “The machine used a device to stimulate your prostrate via your anus until your sexual organ was in prime position for reproduction. Then, phase two of the machine wrapped its flesh simulating apparatus around your penis and made repeated violent upward and downward movements until ejaculation.” 
	Jim could barely muster the words to speak. “You went in my ass, twice, and jerked me off?!”
	Beta nodded. “Yes. How else would we obtain a sample?”
	“You could have just asked!” Jim yelled. 
	“Why would we ask?” Theta said. 
	“Precisely, James Jackson,” Beta said. “Let’s be honest with each other. No one wants to masturbate for aliens. Except maybe people from Florida. They’re weird. Plus, we have the masturbator machine. Why not use it?”
	Jim was appalled. “You raped me!”
	Beta was confused. “What is rape?”
	Jim responded, “It’s when you force someone to have sex with you against their will.”
	“So what? Isn’t that how everyone does it?” Theta asked. 
	“You can’t have sex with someone if they’re not okay with it. You could go to prison for that.”
	Beta and Theta were confused. Beta looked at Jim. “You mean to suggest that earthlings require consent for sexual interaction?”
	“Yes!” Jim said. 
	“So,” Beta said, “You're saying if I were an earthling, and I saw an earthling with which I wanted to mate, I could not spear them and mate with them until they either produced or died?”
	Jim looked at Beta with disgust and awe. “No. That’s rape and murder. Those are both illegal.”
	Beta and Theta looked at each other with confusion and concern. 
	“Well,” Beta said, “I suppose we should talk about the statute of limitations next, but first, on with the examination.”
	Jim was scared. “What…what are you going to do to me?”
	Theta laughed. “Nothing that you will remember.”
	Beta chuckled. “He is correct, James Jackson. We will give you amnestic narcotics so you neither feel pain nor remember what happened to you here. You will forget all about this abduction. Trust me. We’ve been wiping people’s memories for over sixty years. That’s why you have never heard about us.”
	Jim gave Beta a concerned look. 
	“Why do you look so perplexed, James Jackson?” Beta asked. 
	“People have been talking about alien abductions and probing for decades,” Jim responded. “We’ve known about it for years. There’s a whole channel on TV dedicated to aliens. Some people even think you guys built the pyramids.”
	Beta and Theta looked at each other with great concern. 
	Theta turned to Jim. “You mean to say our amnestics have not been working this whole time?!”
	“Yes,” Jim said cautiously. 
	Beta put his hands on the exam table and stretched out his freakish arms. He seemed to think for a long time, contemplating the information Jim told him. 
	“It’s settled,” Beta finally said after a long silence. “This is the information we need to finally exterminate all earthlings. The human genocide will be the most treacherous, diabolical, malevolent execution of a species in the history of the Milky Way. Thank you, James Jackson, you and you alone have finally provided the information needed to convince High Command to carry out the Final Solution. Come Theta, we have much to do.”
	Jim was horrified. What had he done?! “No! Wait!” 
	“Don’t worry, James Jackson,” Theta said, “we will return to rape and disembowel you.”
	Jim screamed as they left the exam room. He cried and thrashed with all his might. Alas, he could not free himself. He sat alone, depressed, and devastated that he doomed the entire human race to extinction. He vomited all over himself. He was stunned, feeling hopeless and helpless strapped naked to a metal table when all the sudden, a deafening screech and blinding light pierced his very being. He was paralyzed by the sound and light, both of which knotted his nerves and twisted his muscles. He felt incredible pain. Fearing death, all he could think about were the flaming hot Cheetos going stale in his cabinet. What a fucken loser I am, he thought. The cold embrace of death soon overcame him as the world went black and his senses gave in to the void. 
 
	The breeze of a cool autumn evening rode gently through Jim’s hair as he lay in his bed with the window open. The sun was still high enough to give light to the earth, but just low enough to be the golden sunset color. It danced beautifully off the changing leaves on the trees that lines the wooded street that led into his neighborhood. The smell of autumn permeated everything. Inhaling its scent brought back childhood memories of raking the leaves, hot chocolate, pumpkin pie, and spending evenings outside near the bonfire with his family. He loved the feeling of the fire warming his skin through the thin flannel jacket he used to wear; he loved the smell of the fire, and the way the marshmallows tasted with just the right crisp upon a fresh graham cracker and Hershey’s chocolate. 
	Jim woke up slowly to the sound of laughter outside his window. He shot up from his bed in a heavy sweat, only to realize he was home. He was afraid and confused. Was it all a dream? Was it some NyQuil-fueled nightmare? Jim looked outside and saw everything was the way he remembered it when he last saw it all before…was it a dream? He didn’t know. Was this a dream? He punched himself in the gut and felt the pain of instant regret and muscle spasms. Yep, this was real. 
	His phone rang. The name “Lexi” with lots of hearts scrolled across the screen. He quickly picked it up. 
	“Babe,” Jim said. “I just had the craziest dream.”
 
	Beta reviewed the electronic file one more time. He looked at Theta and laughed. “What a retard!” 
	They both busted out laughing, unable to contain themselves after such a ruse.
	“The Final Solution,” Theta said through the laughter, “That was the best part.” He fell out of chair hysterically laughing at the idiot now intergalactically known as James “Jackass” Jackson. 
	Beta wiped the tears from his external eye caps, signed the file, and closed it. 
","August 07, 2023 22:42",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,cm0pjz,Do Aliens Drink At Wetherspoons?,Nungshi Longkumer,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/cm0pjz/,/short-story/cm0pjz/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Drama', 'Fiction']",5 likes,"
It has been two years since Connor last saw the sun in the city of Brighton. Lying down on the rooftop of his apartment building, he wondered if he should drop out of college. He doesn't particularly like political science; he only chose it as his major because his dad chose it too. Now that he thinks about it, it was during his high school graduation when the sun stopped appearing.""Thought I'd find you here,"" said a voice that was familiar to Connor.""And why are you here, Mei?"" Connor replied, still looking straight up at the sky.Mei lived next door to Connor. They both moved in around the same time, and both of them were absolute wet blankets. Naturally, they clicked. Her eating disorder had turned her into an unnaturally skinny person, but she still had her charms. She cut her hair recently, and Connor thought the shorter hair looked better on her.""Actually, why are you out here just in your boxers though?"" Mei asked as she approached Connor and lay beside him.""The wind feels nice.""""Feels nice where exactly?""Connor didn't reply, and instead, he took a deep breath. Mei didn't pester for an answer either.When Mei first saw Connor lying down on the roof and looking at the sky, she thought he was crazy. Most people in Brighton avoided looking at the sky, or even going out. Two years of no sunlight can mentally affect people in some extreme ways. But after she joined him for the first time, she realized the charm of it. There was a kind of calm about looking at the dark sky.""One of my classmates hung himself yesterday,"" Connor said nonchalantly.""I see, very tragic,"" Mei didn't feel much about it. All she thought was, another one huh?""Until yesterday, he was having the time of his life. He would go on about living like a king and not caring about anything else.""""Well, there are quite a few people like that, right? The 'ya never know what they're feeling inside,' kinda people.""""I guess, but everyone knew what he felt inside, though.""Probably, thought Mei.They both stayed quiet for some time. The wind was especially chilly today, and Mei regretted stepping out in just her pajamas. Was it wintertime now? She couldn't tell. Since that day, every day had been dark and cold. It was hard to keep track of time.""You know, I'm a virgin,"" breaking the silence Connor turned to Mei.Mei turned to him as well. ""That's good. Maintaining chastity is the will of the lord.""Connor looked Mei dead in the eye and tried to say something, but his embarrassment got the best of his intrusive thoughts. Seeing that, Mei thought he was kind of cute.""You wanna, like… I don't know… sleep with me or something,"" finally, the words escaped Connor's lips, but he couldn't help but look down in embarrassment.""Wow, didn't think you had it in you to say it out loud,"" she giggled.She waited for Connor to face her again, which took a minute, but he eventually did. ""Too bad, I'm a lesbian.""""Since when?""""Since right now,"" Mei said with the biggest smile on her face as she shot down Connor.Connor just sighed and looked back up at the dark sky. He wasn't particularly disappointed; he expected her to reject him. On the contrary, he thought the joke she made was quite funny and slowly started laughing out loud. Upon hearing him laugh, Mei joined in too.And so they were, two young adults laughing on the rooftop under the seemingly endless night sky. For most people these days, a genuine laugh was hard to experience. Laughter was from the good old days, but these two didn't have those days. They lived very dull lives, and maybe it was because of that that they never talked about their pasts to each other.After the laughter slowly disappeared, Connor took a deep breath and came up with a joke himself, ""You know how they say the sky's the limit?""Mei knew where this joke was going, but she still asked, ""Yeah, what about it?""""You think they meant the limit was one kilometer away from the ground?"" As Connor said those words, he pointed at the black dome right above them. The dome that enveloped the whole city of Brighton two years ago.Mei knew the joke was coming, but she couldn't help but laugh even louder than before. Their flatmates could hear their loud laughter traveling through the building and in their envy they wished death upon them.Jenny, from the floor right below, covered her ears with her pillows, but she could still hear those laughs. Those echoes of cheer reminded her of when she was in high school, hanging out with her friends – days she wished she could go back to. Some of those friends were taken by 'The Rapture' right in front of her eyes.It was two years ago when that thing that people started calling 'the mothership' arrived and caged the whole city of Brighton. The military tried to shoot the ship down, but nothing worked. The ship didn't even try to fight back. It just stood there, guarding the dome. Eventually, the US even dropped the bombs they used during the 2nd World War, and all it did was destroy everything around the dome. The dome itself and the ship were completely unharmed.It was like they were looking down on humans. They looked at humans like humans looked at lab rats. Nobody still knows what the inhabitants of the ship look like. Multiple attempts were made to infiltrate the ship, but none returned.Jenny still remembered the naïve hope she had when it all started. She thought for sure the military would save them, but days turned into weeks, then months, and now two years had passed.Everyone in the city has lost their minds. They all decided to live their lives normally as if nothing had happened. Colleges, schools, and businesses were still functioning, but only technically. Jenny hadn't paid her rent in a year, but the landlord never said anything. The crime rate went up as well because nobody cared anymore, and any day could be the day you disappear.Jenny had a feeling that she was going to disappear soon. She didn't know why, but she did. Just like her friend who disappeared in front of her, leaving behind only her clothes. Nobody knew why, but one person disappeared every day. Where they went and why was unknown. The only thing they knew was that it was called 'The Rapture.'The name was originally decided by a bunch of religious freaks who started worshiping the mothership as their god, but it eventually caught on. Jenny thought they were crazy, but part of her couldn't help but think that this was indeed divine punishment. That God sent these aliens to punish humanity.""I'm sorry,"" she whispered to herself.She was sorry for being a bad person, for stealing money from her mom's wallet when she was ten. She was sorry for bullying that one girl in high school. She was sorry for not being nice to her parents - both of whom were missing. She was sorry for having sex before marriage. She counted all her sins and apologized for all of them.Soon, the sound of a window breaking cut the laughter from Mei and Connor. They knew what that sound meant. This happened every day around them; they were used to it.Right below them was the corpse of Jenny, who had jumped to apologize for her sins. Thinking that maybe if she died for her sins, everyone else would be free of theirs. Two years ago, that sight would have had people surrounding the body and taking pictures of it. Now, nobody batted an eye. People walked past her like she was a dead rat.""You remember that one song about 2012 that was about partying at the end of the world?"" Connor asked Mei, who went to take a look at the body from the edge of the rooftop.""Yeah? What about it?"" Mei replied as she walked back next to Connor.""That was a lot of bullshit, wasn't it?"" Connor said, followed by a snicker.Mei giggled a little bit too. She wondered if she had ever laughed this much before. ""Well, why don't you start living like that right now? You know, make all your dreams come true and stuff?""""Make my dreams come true? In Brighton? Even our football club got relegated two years ago. How is anyone supposed to do that here?"" More laughs ensued. They were laughing so much at this point that Mei wondered if they had gone crazy like everyone else.""You ever wonder if they are friendly? Like, you know, they take you away and you wake up in a pub,"" Mei asked to keep the fun going.""What if it's a Wetherspoons, though? I'd rather they open me up and do experiments on me at that point,"" Connor said remembering the time he sneaked into a Wetherspoons with a fake ID. ""It'll be filled with depressed old men pestering the barmen.""""It's funny how that's still the case,"" Mei replied, remembering her recent trip to one. ""But really, though, you ever entertain the idea that maybe they aren't all that bad?""Connor took a moment to think about it, ""I do.""Mei liked his reply and thought about how she was glad she met him. She wondered if that was why she wouldn't sleep with him.""I mean, we haven't seen them, and we haven't seen them kill anyone. Who knows what they're like.""""That's true,"" Mei agreed but gave it a little more thought. ""But maybe it's that factor that scares people. You know, like the fear of the unknown kind of thing.""Connor agreed with her internally and came up with his own question. ""Are you scared of this? You know, like this whole situation.""Mei thought about that question and remembered her life so far and how different it was before and after the dome. She wasn't particularly happy before, but her life wasn't a sad soap opera either. She just found everything around her to be quite dull.""No, I'm not,"" she replied, and it was an honest reply. In fact, in many ways, she realized that she was glad about the mothership's appearance.""Me neither.""And so the two went on, talking endlessly through the fake eternal night. Finding comfort in each other during the apocalypse, not through love or friendship, but just a connection.They knew that any day could be the day they disappear and have their organs opened up, or maybe they'd sharing a pint of beer with the aliens. Regardless, they were glad they had a conversation that mattered before they eventually disappeared.
","August 08, 2023 16:38",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,qhlp9n,Seven Unwanted Apologies: An Autobiography,Samone Dandridge,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/qhlp9n/,/short-story/qhlp9n/,Science Fiction,0,"['Black', 'Gay', 'Science Fiction']",5 likes,"
There was a study done in the mid 2000s that reported the average person apologizes around 3,000 times a year.
 
I was ten when the data was gathered so my input wasn't included, but I know it would have drastically skewed the results. Even then it felt like my life was a cluster of ""I'm sorry"" and ""Forgive me"" with a person somewhere in the middle. As if my existence was such an inconceivable mistake I had to constantly atone for.
 
But you probably want to hear about the aliens, don't you?
 
It's honestly pretty boring. They invaded twenty-six years ago, citing Earth as a ""vexatious planet in need of supervision until further notice.""
 
I wasn't even alive when it happened, and all my generation does is joke about Earth's parents putting it in the corner. The water was supposedly cleaner, the air more fresh and entirely new species of animals formed.
 
All very wild stuff, however this is my autobiography so no more alien talk. Let's get back to me.
 
I'll start with that day it was snowing, softly just beginning to stick to the ground. It would soon pile high enough for some of younger kids to attempt snow angels and beg for help creating snowmen.
 
I took a walk to my favorite coffee shop, bundled in a thick navy-blue hoodie that had some cartoon character whose show I had never watched. I could have biked there but the longer I was out of the house, the better.
 
My sanity could only take so much in the chaos that was six younger foster siblings the DuPonts took in. Seven including me. I rubbed my temple, already feeling the beginning of a headache I could only hope didn't turn into a migraine.
 
Getting out of the suburban neighborhood took ten minutes. Each house the same two-story brick model. Same wide driveways occupied with a car or two on the weekend. Same lush shamrock green grass cut to standard height, except for Cindy Love's house which recently spotted brown patches that half the neighborhood was tittering about.
 
It was enough to drive a person mad if you let it. I was unfortunately letting it.
 
Alpharetta, Georgia was admittedly better than my previous foster home. That place had been a complex of mustard yellow apartments shoved together, screaming neighbors and his foster mom Lillian who may or may not have been working a money laundering scheme.
 
Still, it was weird being a black boy with dreadlocks almost to my waist to walk down the street without seeing a single person who looked like me. At least Millwood had been diverse.
 
The coffee shop was a mile away and possibly the only thing keeping me remotely in shape. The first time the DuPonts drove me there I hated. Similar feeling for the next trip. By number three I was questing their sanity.
 
The beverages were mediocre at best and the food couldn't stay consistent even if the staff was being held at gunpoint. Not that we were allowed guns anymore, re: aliens but again this is about me. The inconsistencies are what made me love it.
 
This was the problem growing up with abandonment issues, I now looked at imperfect coffee shops allowed to exist in peace and compared it to myself.
 
The first came before I even reached the shop in the form of a homeless man holding a sign about an injury forcing him quit his job. You'd think the aliens would do something about that but no, there he was reaching his hands out to me instead.
 
I winced, patting my flat pockets signifying their emptiness. He rolled her eyes before spotting his next target.
 
Guilt weighed on me as I made my way inside the building, my five-dollar bill stuffed inside my phone case suddenly seeming criminal.
 
The second comes immediately after in shape of me lost in thought crashing into an unexpected woman in a pantsuit, effectively spilling her drink over her outfit that was the very least tailored.
 
My mouth parted, arms already wildly waving in her direction, unsure how to undo the damage. ""I am so-""
 
The woman scoffed; face contorted in anger. ""I bet you are."" She glanced to her now empty cup before checking her watch. ""I don't even have time for this."" She stomped away leaving me horrified.
 
""And there goes Terrorizer Tammy, we can only hope she doesn't return.""
 
I looked over to see Elias Wood sitting at a table munching on a pastry. I couldn't stop the smile that immediately etched on my face whenever Elias was around.
 
I suppose I should tell you that Elias is an alien. No, it wasn't his family that originally took over. Infact the Wood family had only been here for a year. Tourist who decided they wanted to live on Earth to fully experience the culture. 
 
Wood wasn't their real last name, but according to Elias their true names were ten syllables long and this was easier.
 
I feel the need to clarify having a crush on an alien does not mean that it's suddenly all about aliens. This is still my story.
 
The words registered in my head, and I groaned. ""That'd make me feel worse.""
 
Elias took a bite of his treat. ""Terrorizer Tammy takes out her overworked stress on the staff every chance she gets and doesn't even have the decency to make up for it in tips.""
 
The words do their job of loosening my shoulders. Elias gestured to the empty chair across from him and despite having ordered nothing, I sat.
 
""Is her name actually Tammy?"" I asked.
 
Elias shrugged, ""Hell if I know.""
 
It brought a laugh out of me which quickly morphed into a frown when Elias offered to buy my usual order.
 
""You don't have to do that,"" I said.
 
""I insist, you did do me that really big favor last week,"" he said already heading to the counter.
 
Ah yes, the favor. Elias had shown up at my door at one in the morning asking to hold his box for him. Said box was the size of dresser drawer engraved in deep gold loops, standing out against its black background. It also weighed about fifty pounds.
 
Very shady, and it had shifted my view of Elias from alien next door to potential intergalactic criminal. Which apparently wasn't a deal breaker to me because I took the box.
 
""Order up,"" Elias said dropping my latte with my name Josia messily scrawled and egg croissant on the table.
 
""Thanks,"" I said.
 
Although it was sort of a moot point considering Elias had more money than everyone in this town. Possibly the state of Georgia. He could spend less than five bucks on some food.
 
 
""If I had known you'd be here I would have brought your box,"" I said unwrapping my meal. ""My bad.""
 
And there goes three.
 
""It's no problem,"" Elias said. ""Not like your species has clairvoyance.""
 
I'm going to break my rule and talk a little bit about aliens if only to give you some context. Yes, they had supernatural abilities, differing from each other depending on the region they came from.
 
Elias could shapeshift into anything. People, animals, beasts I've never seen before, liquid. You name it he could turn into it.
 
I wasn't sure if the dirty blonde hair, green eyes, freckles on tan skin was Elias' real appearance or just one he donned for Earth.
 
And now that alien talk is over with, you're just in time for four and five.
 
My phone buzzed in my pocket, I unlocked it opening to a group chat of me and the Duponts.
 
I suppose I can tell you their names seeing as they are separate people. Margret and Phillip. Margret was a brunette with a bob and a very upbeat personality. Phillip was also a brunette but with a tousled haircut paired with a beard. Not as upbeat as Margret but still pretty up there.
 
When we first met, I was under the impression they had a savior complex the size of the Pacific Ocean and in desperate need of therapy. I've grown to accept the fact that they're actually good people, however the therapy part still stood.
 
Two messages from each asking where I was. In my haste for peace, I forgot to inform anyone of my whereabouts.
 
I very quickly replied back detailing my trip with the promise to be home soon. And of course, an apology, which was responded with the number of weeks I was grounded. Two in case you wanted to know.
 
""I can give you a ride,"" Elias said, grabbing his car keys.
 
I wasn't entirely unsure that Elias couldn't read minds in addition to his shapeshifting. Best not to think about.
 
I hopped into his car, a white Bentley, the passenger seat already adjusted to my liking.
 
I liked to think I was only person riding in Elias' passenger seat and therefore the adjustment was special.
 
The ride was short, filled with music, jokes and when we arrived at my house, I was already Mouring the next two weeks. Until-
 
""You know I wish things were different,"" Elias said suddenly.
 
I glanced at him; brows furrowed in confusion.
 
""Like if I were human or if you were an alien,"" He clarified, staring at the steering wheel. ""Then maybe we could..."" he trailed off.
 
What a way to find out your crush liked you back.
 
I cleared my throat looking away. ""We really don't have to do this today,"" I said. ""Or ever.""
 
""I just wanted you to know.""
 
""Know that we're basically wasting our time,"" a stangled laugh left my throat. ""Got it.""
 
""No, I just don't want you to get your hopes up,"" Elias said quietly.
 
""I'm not even asking you for anything,'' I snapped, unbuckling my seat to get away from the stifling situation.
 
""I know,"" he whispered. ""But still, I'm sorry.""
 
Bet you didn't expect six to be from him.
 
I slammed the car door trudging to my front door eager to spend the next two weeks forgetting this conversation ever happened. How do you dumped by someone you're not dating?
 
I didn't even want to remind Elias I still had his box that probably had drugs in it or something my mind couldn't even comprehend.
 
The Margret and Phillip are already waiting inside. I hand my phone over without argument. If I was looking on the bright side, I would be grateful to have people worried over my wellbeing. I was looking in the Mariana Trench. 
 
They must be able to tell something is wrong because they don't even lecture me, just send me to my room with a vague time of when dinner will be ready.
 
My room was a mostly empty thing, a bed, a dresser, some books. Even though I'd been here for two years now I was still expecting to be shipped off at any moment.
 
I stare into the mirror one of the younger kids gifted me for Christmas. I truly looked as if my dog had just died.
 
I suppose unconsciously I had been hoping for something to happen with Elias. Which was stupid. We were two different species.
 
Sorry for putting us through this, I think to myself. My reflection stares, unforgiving.
 
Of course, seven is to myself.
 
Very dramatic, right? I bet you're intrigued to read chapter two which will have significantly less aliens. Probably. Sorry in advanced if this is a lie.
 
Does that technically make it eight?
 
","August 12, 2023 00:29",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,tg6rc0,His Eyes,Chuck Thompson,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/tg6rc0/,/short-story/tg6rc0/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Horror', 'Science Fiction']",5 likes,"
My trial began in the usual way.
 
“Hear ye, hear ye. All rise.”
 
“The Honorable Llewelyn Magee presiding. You may sit.”
 
Magee is one of their elders. Some told me he is the eldest elder. He is still tall and vibrant, but his skin has taken on the cast of the dying; gray, wrinkled, going translucent.
 
His eyes bely his aged appearance. Fiery, alert, piercing, focused, terrifying to the accused, horrifying to the guilty.
 
The guilty see their fate in his eyes. They never see mercy.
 
We’re not much of a town compared to the City across the Kill, but we had an abundance of civic pride. We did much in the last two decades to improve the infrastructure of Elizabeth and the lives of our citizens.
 
Some held me primarily responsible for those improvements. That may be true. It was my goal as mayor to make our Borough a place where anyone would want to live.
 
We started with the fire department. Grant money and taxes built new stations rivalling anything the City could build; best available bunker gear, ladder trucks, pumpers; attack trucks bought and correctly stationed allowing a three-minute response anywhere in the borough.
 
Next, we hardened our police station and armored all the patrol cars. The best body armor for our women and men in blue.   Both lethal and non-lethal weapons―only the best. New raised standards for police behavior, enforced.
 
Concurrently, we chewed up and re-paved all public roads. Brought in contractors to beautify and modernize yards and sidewalks and private driveways. Our council passed statutes requiring homeowners to repair and modernize the exterior of their homes or forfeit their property. We provided grant money to help our citizens in this effort.
 
We drove out the riffraff, the entrenched drug dealers, the pornographers, the abusers―all gone now.
 
We became idyllic.
 
Our children’s park included a waterpark, swing sets, ball courts and fields. Our central park was a gathering place for everyone for many festive occasions and the rare instances of public mourning.
 
I’m proud of our Borough and everyone in it. I am the leader of our community. When I requested solidarity against these outsiders, all rose up to provide a solid front to thwart their designs, to stop their progress through our Home.
 
It was for naught.
 
Three years ago, they came to our Borough from the west. Afoot, with their eight-foot stride, hands extending below their knees, cyan skin, they made quite a sight.
 
They started calmly enough. They began to mingle with us. Renting only the better apartments, acquiring vacant houses throughout the Borough, all at undisputed market value. They assimilated well, in their way.
 
They learned our customs, our language, our habits, and foibles. I can’t say everyone liked them, but most of us felt it important to welcome them. They even acquired citizenship after the president bullied Congress into passing the new immigration laws for extraterrestrials.
 
A little over two years ago, our Council approved statutes prohibiting any kind of discrimination against them. Price gouging was prohibited. Unnecessary traffic stops were dealt with firmly. Police cams were reviewed regularly to ensure nothing was amiss within the Department.
 
We accepted them. Oh, it’s true, after that first year or so there were hooligans who would bully the smaller ones. After a few bullies disappeared, that behavior stopped completely. Of course, police investigations proved nothing. Somehow, we all knew.
 
I knew. One of those punks was my daughter. She would rail about the new ones and how we had to banish them. I admonished, cajoled, threatened, begged; all to no avail. Now she’s gone. Like the others, with no trace.
 
That’s how it started, this hatred of mine. I had begun to doubt them, their intentions.
 
They all gather in the central park at noon on Wednesdays to worship whatever god or gods they worship. Not a problem until six weeks ago when a parent of one of the disappeared threw a rock and hit their leader’s assistant. That was her poor choice.
 
A passing patrolman saw it and arrested the woman for battery, public intoxication and disturbing the peace. The police cam caught some colorful language and her threats to them.
 
She was booked, fingerprinted, and released to her husband. 
 
She disappeared from their bed that night. No forced entry, no noise, not a peep from their dogs.
 
Secretly, I met with Chief Gertrude Stein. We talked about the disappearances and other odd things. Peeping Tom complaints, shop owner complaints about the hazards of accepting their odd gold coins. Their increasing disregard of traffic laws. All petty complaints that were increasing in number from the other citizens. Nary a complaint from them about harassment or re-budding discrimination or anything at all.
 
The Chief and I talked about all of it. We decided these new ones had to go. Out of Borough’s coffers we’d buy them out and give them a relocation allowance. Simple solution. We’d arrest the holdouts for disturbing the peace or public incitement. Our Borough attorney helped us through the details.
 
Last week (a mere seven infinite days ago) we made the announcement. A police officer paired with a Borough representative visited each of their households explaining the situation. We sent out 20 of these teams. Forty people in all. It took them three days to formally visit each house and explain the new edict. None of them reported any reaction from any of the residents. We gave them 30 days to vacate our Borough.
 
On the fourth morning, every team member was reported missing. Disappeared. One hell of an uproar ensued. Police action was demanded. I gave the order to drive them out. Burn them out if necessary.
 
Poor choice. Poor choices made by all.
 
Have you ever read stories about illegal immigrants living 20 to a room? That’s nothing compared to what we learned. There must have been 50-100 of these new ones per household. Thirty to fifty in each apartment. No one knows.
 
All very well-armed and militarily trained.
 
Our Borough, my Borough was decimated in less than six hours. Every person, every pet, every squirrel, cat, rat was eliminated.
 
“Prisoner, arise!”
 
“You have been found guilty of fomenting rebellion against us,” the Honorable Magee pronounced.
 
“Cleave the prisoner from groin to brain, slowly. Broadcast it to all this world so our brethren know it is time to end the charade. This is our home now; these creatures must go.
 
“Court dismissed.”
 
His pronouncement was the last in what became an extinct language the next day.
 
His eyes horrified me.
","August 12, 2023 01:38","[[{'Chuck Thompson': 'Thanks to all who read this!', 'time': '01:01 Aug 21, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,0rhx8o,Mighty In Battle,Darina Koedjikova,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/0rhx8o/,/short-story/0rhx8o/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Adventure', 'Science Fiction']",5 likes,"
The first bang goes off around 3 in the morning. Everyone’s quiet conversations come to a halt as we all sit tight, waiting. The second goes off at around 3:10. The silence hangs heavy over us like a weight on our already hunched shoulders. Wide eyes catch the light from the dim lamp that somebody brought, showing me the terror in their mind as easily as I can see the inside of a store by looking through the window. The bangs come every so often moving further into the distance as time goes on. As they do hesitant conversations start up again, stopping every so often whenever a bang is heard. I look around the room, the heavy guns in the corner sending shivers down my spine. To my right is a mother clutching her young baby in bruised arms. My mouth dries, realizing that that child will never have a childhood like mine. It will never feel the soft grass below its feet as it's running into the park to get to the swings first, it will never be able to play games with its friends in the streets or hear the approaching music of the ice cream van as it pleads with its mother to buy some. I look down at my hands, not able to think about it any longer. Just 2 days ago, before everything changed, I was going to the mall with Taylor and Beck, complaining that Jacob hadn’t replied to my text. “You’re too good for him,” Taylor had said. I scoffed as Beck put an arm around my shoulder, lightly nudging me into Sephora. I was just being a normal teenage girl, worrying about normal teenage girl things: like guys, my popularity and what I was going to wear to school the next day. Jacob not replying seemed like the end of the world to me back then. Little did I know that I would have bigger things to worry about, bigger than I could ever imagine in my worst nightmares. A bang comes again, snapping me back into the present where I’m huddled with people that I have never met, in a dimly lit, stuffy, make-shift room, carrying my whole life in the backpack beside me. My feet throb from running and walking and then running again. My face collides into my hands as tears start to spill from my eyes. I know Beck didn’t make it but as for Taylor and Jacab, I have no idea. More tears fall. I don’t even know where my parents are, or if they are even still here. I try to stop my mind from going there but it’s too late, I could be an orphan for all I know. Another bang shakes me out of my spiraling thoughts. Later that day when I came back from the mall, happily carrying my little black and white striped bag, I would never be able to comprehend what would happen later. I was shaken awake in the middle of the night with my parents' panicked voices ringing in my ears “Matilda we have to go, NOW.” Half-awake and still disoriented from my sleep, I scrambled to put some clothes on and hurriedly packed my belongings into the first backpack I saw. We all rushed out of the house to find a layer of thick smoke concealing the quiet and empty streets. “What’s happening?” I shouted, but I was met with silence, my lungs burning with each the inhalation of the thick smoke. My mother grasped my arm and I jolted forward, blindly following her through the smoke. As we were running, I could feel my mothers grasp loosening, only catching glimpses of her bright auburn hair through the smoke in front of me. Suddenly, a bang went off, causing me to lose my balance and fall. My contact with the ground was hard, my right arm sending shooting pains through my body as it met with the concrete below. That was the first bang I ever heard in my life. In the chaos my mother’s grip loosened and I could no longer feel her touch. “MUM, DAD?” I screamed, but my voice was drowned out by another bang, a little further away from me than the last one. I looked around frantically searching for her bright auburn hair, my eyes burning from the smoke around. “MATILDA,” I heard a distant voice shout. Scrambling to my feet, ignoring the pain in my arm the best I could, I stumbled towards the distant voice. However, the smoke that had crept throughout the city made the streets that were once so familiar to me seem like a foreign land. After continuously winding around the maze of streets I could no longer hear the distant calling of my name. Not before long, my breath started to become uneven and my heartbeat quickened. Collapsing onto the floor in the unknown land, I started to panic, my thoughts spinning out of control. I don’t know how long I sat there, thinking the end of the world had come. I still think that but at least it’s easier now. Soon enough, someone found me and brought me to this make-shift room, full of people inside. They explained everything to me; that extraterrestrial beings had come into our atmosphere and everyone and everything had gone crazy. That countries had formed different alliances, each group disagreeing on what we should do. I remember my mouth drying as he spoke to me, unable to grasp what he was telling me. I mean I had read about these things in sci-fi novels and seen them in movies but never would I have thought that it could actually become true. “Are they good?” I remember muttering to the man. “Who, the countries? Yes, ma’am I’m asure you that there will be no conflict between th-” he started saying. “The aliens,” I interrupted. His eyes slightly widened before answering that they were extremely harmful and hazardous to our society, and that we should demolish them as soon as we got the chance. His response to my question almost sounded rehearsed, as if someone had told him to say that. Despite being skeptical I stayed in the make-shift room, watching people pile in as time went on, the weapons in the corner increasing with each new person’s arrival. Being sandwiched between sweaty people, with babies crying on and off, I was not happy. With each day spent apart from my family, I became even more miserable, yearning for my mother’s bright auburn hair that looked like mighty phoenix’s flames. “You know why we gave you your name, Matilda?” she once asked. I shook my head, giggling, my little feet swinging from the chair, not long enough to reach the ground yet. “Because you love the movie Matilda and you wanted her to be smart,” my dad called from behind the barbeque, pointing the chicken skewer in his hand at her accusingly. She threw her head back laughing, her hair flowing majestically like a river of silk behind her as the gusts of wind gently picked it up and put it back down. “Matilda means mighty in battle. Something that I want you to be,” She touched the tip of my nose softly with her finger “When you grow up to be a big intelligent girl I want you to always look to your name and remember that you are mighty and strong and that you can overcome any problems that come your way,” I wipe the tear from my cheek, I really cannot stand this place. If only I could go somewhere and find some peace and quiet for a few hours before I come back again. People have told me what lies near here and I’m sure that by now the smoke has died down. The man told me I should stay here but the chaos outside can’t be any worse than it is in here. And so, I swing my backpack over my shoulder as I quietly creep towards the door. People are too invested in their own problems and worries to care about what is happening around them, so I reach the exit easily. Lifting the flap of the make-shift room, I catch the baby’s wide eyes following my movements carefully. Before stepping outside, I smile at it, receiving a radiant beam of innocence in return. Immediately after I step out, I am met with a breeze of fresh air, my lungs relaxing as I let go of the flap behind me. The fog has not died down as much as I hoped but I do recognize the streets a lot more. Stepping over any debris I encounter, I fall into the rhythm of the familiar path to the park, the one that I have visited so many times, only now with no one by my side. Soon, I’m pushing the recognizable red gate, the metal cold in my hand. I observe the park. It sits unchanged from when I was last here, only now silent with abandonment. The sounds I hear are the rustling leaves on the tree and the slight creaks of the swings from the wind's movements instead of the usual laughter and chatter of excited children. I walk around and sit on one of the swings, falling into the well known motion of swinging back and forth, missing the strong hands that would once push me here as a child here. As I look around, everything is still before me. “What has happened to the world?” I mutter. I don’t know what I will do from here. Perhaps I will return to the safety of the make-shift room or I’ll venture out beyond and attempt to find my family and friends. Maybe I’ll come across one of these extraterrestrial beings or aliens along the way and I can see for myself what they are all about. “Mighty in battle,” my mother’s sure voice echoes in my mind. I may not know what I will do from here or what will happen but what I do have is my name, Matilda, sheltering me with protection like a shield in front of me, making me mighty in battle. Just as my mother wanted. 
","August 12, 2023 03:27",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ilxhfr,Lineage,Zyn Marlin,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ilxhfr/,/short-story/ilxhfr/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fiction']",5 likes,"
	For the first decade after the Merge, the planets and their inhabitants fought a bloody, brutal war. The Pyrithians had the advantage in natural defense and in technology. Their astronomical engineers had predicted Pyrith’s exit from the plane of its universe into the space occupied by a slightly smaller blue-green planet in a parallel universe and had been able to prepare for the intrusion, so while Pyrithian life losses had still been astronomical, they were almost incomparable to those suffered by the soft-bodied, oblivious humans when their planet was all but swallowed up. But the human survivors were ferocious in defending what was left of their species and their planet, and though their remaining weaponry was primitive, the humans themselves were quick and subversive and relentless. Pyrithian warriors returned to their camps on the surface with tales of human combatants underground who carried on fighting past the point when their weak, pulpy bodies should have expired from the damage they had taken. Nevertheless, the humans did always, eventually, succumb. Pyralith itself occasionally took its own victims as sinkholes opened in weakened crust. The tide of war turned inexorably toward Pyrithian victory. By the middle of the second decade, the humans were no more, and the Pyrithians began to rebuild.	“And now we are four generations strong, my sons.” M’rith brushed a strand of hair from Tag’s sweat-sticky cheek, careful to keep her jeweled claws from catching his skin. The low firelight flickering in the center pit reflected in her round, dark eyes as she gazed around the opulent sleeping chamber at her three offspring. “The Belikai line, reborn by the wrath of Pyrith and the tenacity of our people. Heirs to the new civilization.”	“Even the deformed freak,” Herrik said from the farthest pallet. Tag bristled and tried to sit up, ready to jump off his own mat and pound his eldest brother - or at least make a good try of it - but M’rith’s firm hand on his chest stayed him.	“Tag can’t help how he emerged,” Grath muttered sleepily from the pallet between them. “Leave him alone.”	“And none of you have reached the age of your scales,” M’rith reminded them. “All of you are as soft-bodied as the humans who thought they could hold ground against us. We may have lost that common enemy, but now you are vulnerable to the slavering clutches of the Pidari faction to the north. It is incumbent upon each of you - my warrior, my diplomat, my foreclaw - to protect his brothers, that our line may carry on.” She rose gracefully from the foot of Tag’s pallet, smoothing her light robes. “Sleep now, my sons.”	The door closed behind M’rith. Tag closed his eyes and snuggled into the embrace of his downy mattress, letting the soft crackle of the fire and the deepening of Grath’s breathing next to him lull him toward slumber.	A thump against the side of his mat jolted Tag conscious. Herrik crouched over him, limbs caging Tag’s much smaller body, clawed hands gripping Tag’s forelimbs, face looming close to his. Tag recoiled, but the mattress that had before seemed such a haven was now an unyielding pressure against his back.	“My age will be coming soon, and then you’d better be ready to protect yourself,” Herrik hissed through sharp teeth, his words spittle-flecked grenades that made Tag flinch and turn his head. “You are weak and unnatural. Maybe I will give you over to the Pidarii as a goodwill sacrifice. At least your death could be useful.”	“Get off me,” Tag whispered.	Herrik leaned closer. “What was that, creature?”	Tag was silent for a moment. Then he rolled his head to face Herrik again, and launched the glob of saliva he had let pool in his mouth.	Herrik reared back, letting go of Tag’s arms and wiping furiously at his eyes. “You little - !” he shouted, the rest of his words vanishing in a shriek of fury.	“What are you doing?” Grath was up and pulling the howling Herrik away from Tag, dumping him, hands still pressed to his face, onto the stone floor where he rolled back and forth in agony. Grath pressed a foot against Herrik’s neck, the place where even in full scales he would remain vulnerable, and Herrik stilled instantly, his cries cutting out like a snuffed flame.	“I have told you,” Grath said, soft and deadly, “to leave him alone. Do you understand me now?”	Herrik winced and grabbed at Grath’s hindlimb, and Tag guessed Grath had added a little more pressure to underscore his words. “Yes,” he choked out.	“On the rise, I will tell M’rith to give you your own chamber. You are the closest of us to your age and should have your privilege.” Grath lowered his foot and stepped back, allowing Herrik to roll over and stand. Tag and Grath watched as Herrik slunk back to his own pallet and threw himself down with his back to them. Then Grath turned to Tag. His round, black eyes were warm and concerned. “Are you well?” he asked quietly.	Tag nodded.	“Your forelimbs?”	He was rubbing at the tingling in them, Tag realized, and quickly dropped his hands. “They’re fine.”	Grath studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Get some sleep. He won’t come for you again.”#	From then on, Herrik gave Tag a wide berth, especially when Grath was present, but his gaze on Tag remained as hard and hateful as ever. The relief Tag felt when Herrik’s scales finally erupted a few orbits later and M’rith sent him away to live and train with the rest of the empire’s warriors was the lifting of a burning Pyralithian boulder from his chest.	The despair he felt when Grath’s scales erupted less than an orbit later and he was sent away to join Herrik was nearly its equal.	“He will soon return,” M’rith said one day after Grath had been gone for several orbits. Tag, as had become custom when he wasn’t in his studies, was out on the balcony overlooking the training fields. The warriors were figurines in the mid distance, stepping through exercises in a sharp choreography that had become a routine backdrop since Tag’s earliest orbits. He looked up as M’rith joined him at the railing. “Within the orbit, his training will be complete.”	“And what of me?” Tag exclaimed. He spun away and began pacing the length of the balcony. “My age has been and passed. When am I to gain my scales and begin my own training?”	M’rith reached out and caught his tunic as he passed, and he jerked to a stop, head bowed, cheeks hot. A clawed finger touched him under the chin, and he swallowed and met her eyes.	“You are my most important son,” she murmured. “My foreclaw. The Pidarii grow ever more emboldened, and I need a son who will remain here to keep watch over our domain while my other sons are away. Your eldest brother will command my warriors. Your elder brother will lead my diplomatic corps. And you will lead our people.”#	A shout launched him out of slumber into a scene of flames and chaos. Clouds of smoke boiled up to the ceiling, obscuring the view of the stars through the vent hole. The central fire in his chamber had jumped the pit and was tearing through the rugs and curtains, licking at the foot of his mat. Tag leapt out of his pallet, coughing, pulling the edge of his night tunic up over his face. A large figure, no more than a shadow through the smoky air, loomed in the doorway. Crouching, still choking, Tag ran toward it.	Herrik’s huge hand came down on Tag’s shoulder, nearly sending him entirely to the floor, but then hauled him up by his tunic and shoved him out into the hall. The air was clearer here, and Tag heaved it into his lungs. Elsewhere, not close enough to orient it, he could hear the crack of incendiary weapons striking stone and scales, the screams of Pyrithians.   “What is happening?” he demanded, wheeling on Herrik. His eldest brother had grown massive in his orbits of service as commander of the Belikai warriors, but his expression was flat and abstracted.	“Pidarii,” he grunted. “Grath sent word too late. They managed to infiltrate our forces and gain access to our domain. M’rith is…”	“No.”	“We must leave. You cannot remain here.”	“No.” Tag was shaking his head, dizzy with smoke and shock. “No, I can’t leave, this is my domain. I am…I am tasked with keeping watch.”	Herrik’s laugh was the scrape of gravel against gravel. “Keeping watch over what?”	Tag was shivering now. “Grath will return.”	“Recall, Grath knew.” Herrik ran a hand over his face. His scales rippled across his body. “He also sent word of a place. We will meet him there. Come.”	Tag’s body felt loose and disconnected as he stumbled after Herrik, down through the escape tunnels. They emerged into a quiet darkness that was jarring for its lack of violence. Tag realized he had expected the fight to be continuing out here, but they crept into the rock fields with no alarm being raised.	They walked the rest of the night and through the next rise. As night closed its curtain around them again, Tag stumbled, tripped, and went sprawling. Herrik stopped and hauled him back up.	“I can’t,” Tag said. His voice was gravel and smoke. He was swaying lightly, leaning into Herrik’s grasp. Herrik grunted and swung Tag up onto his back. Somehow, Tag fell asleep, grief and exhaustion towing him under.	Something woke him some time later. He was lying on the ground now, but something else, some noise, maybe, had drawn him into consciousness. The new rise was just starting to wrap its sash around the horizon, and when Tag sat up, he could make out Herrik standing a distance away.	“Herrik?” he called. “Where is Grath?”	Then he heard again what had woken him. An ominous crack rent the air. Tag scrambled up to his knees, searching for the source.	“This is still quite an active area from the Merge,” Herrik called from behind him. “Sinkholes occur frequently.”	Another crack, and then a long, low groan, like the Earth buried underneath Pyralith’s weight was in agony. Small rocks ahead of him began to judder, and then disappeared as the ground yawned open underneath. Tag scrambled to get up, to run, but faster than he could gain ground, the hungry Earth reached out to him and swallowed him whole. The last thing he heard as he tumbled into the darkness was Herrik’s echo: At least your death will be useful.#	He blinked his eyes open.	A pair of eyes blinked back at him.	They weren’t black. They weren’t large and round like any Pyrithian he had ever seen.	They looked like his own eyes, small and bright.	Tag startled violently, and the other face disappeared, then came back a moment later, cautious, wary. The mouth opened and sounds came out, but Tag didn’t understand. His head was throbbing and his face was wet on one side. He was crumpled on top of a pile of debris, dirt and rocks piled on and around him. He could feel his forelimbs, and he moved them, trying to dig himself out. The sounds from the other creature - another deformed Pyrithian? Cast out from his own family, as well? - increased in volume and pitch. Tag felt another set of hands working to help him, and after a few moments, he was free. Carefully, he tested his hindlimbs, then drew himself up slowly to lean against the fall of dirt and rocks.	The other deformed Pyrithian reached for him again. He took Tag’s hand, put a cloth into it, and gently lifted his hand to his own head where it felt wet. The wound stung, and Tag hissed but held the cloth. The other said something again, but Tag shook his head.	“I don’t understand you,” he said helplessly. The poor creature must have been exiled from his people from his earliest orbits.	The other’s eyes widened. “Pyrithian?” he said.	Tag nodded, sagging in relief. “Yes.”	“Not many can speak it. You must be a scout from another colony in the Under? Did you not realize this is a dangerous area? We’re both fortunate we weren’t killed.”	“Not many can speak Pyrithian?” Tag frowned. “Everyone speaks Pyrithian.”	The other frowned and took a step back. “Who…are you?”	“Tag Belika, of the Belikai line.”	The other took a step back, eyes wide. “Belikai? You were with Pyrithians?”	“Yes,” Tag said. “My brother betrayed me. He always believed me to be unnatural. Did your line…cast you out for your deformities?”	“Deformities?” The other laughed, and the sound was a little high but otherwise like Tag’s own, warm, not rough and scraped like his brothers’ or M’rith’s. He took another step away from Tag. “I’m not a deformed Pyrithian, I’m a human. And, looking at you, I’d say…so are you.”
","August 12, 2023 03:42","[[{'Kristin Johnson': 'Ohh interesting, The aliens have totally dominated the Earth.\n\nGreat line. “And none of you have reached the age of your scales,” \n\nIf they actually are humans (and if humans have maybe intermarried with aliens), then they might not have scales necessarily, yes? Not all of them, am I right? ""Deformed"" is just a way to say ""human"" without saying it.', 'time': '00:11 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Zyn Marlin': ""Tag was the only human, but I like that idea that there could be interbreeding or that maybe he's even a hybrid of the two species! Thanks for giving me something to chew on."", 'time': '14:28 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Zyn Marlin': ""Tag was the only human, but I like that idea that there could be interbreeding or that maybe he's even a hybrid of the two species! Thanks for giving me something to chew on."", 'time': '14:28 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'J. D. Lair': 'A well thought out and detailed story Zyn! \n\nI believe it could be a prologue of sorts for a much larger story, one which I would love to read. :)\n\nThe names were a little hard to read it first or figure out how to sound them out, but I got used to it eventually. \n\nYou left subtle breadcrumbs for the ending throughout the story, so I was pleased with how you tied it all up at the end. Great job!', 'time': '16:29 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Zyn Marlin': 'Thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback. I am working on revising it for another contest, and there is definitely a lot of room for expansion in the future, as well!', 'time': '18:06 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Zyn Marlin': 'Thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback. I am working on revising it for another contest, and there is definitely a lot of room for expansion in the future, as well!', 'time': '18:06 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,15gzp8,Forgotten ,Sophie Morris,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/15gzp8/,/short-story/15gzp8/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Mystery']",5 likes,"
Grey’s and blacks haunted the atmosphere. It felt as though no life had been present on earth for centuries, though it had only been three weeks. Society collectively come to the decision to never leave the safety of the four brick walls we had once called home, if there is any safety left that is. 
This morning felt different though. I am a 16 year old high school student who follows the orders of those who have authority over me, mum and dad. 
“Never, ever leave this house without permission.” They would insist.
I suppose I understand, after the recent news story, the British nation was shook to the core, but not me. I found it quite ridiculous if I’m being honest. Is this the way we are expected to live now? Hiding behind brick and mortar from unknown creatures? 
The day started as normal, no alarm in fear of making too much noise, mum tip-toeing into my completely pink room offering me a small slice of bread for breakfast. Mum is scared to use too much food as we never know when we will next have access to more. Each morning I mope around with my stomach screaming for nutrition. 
Dad usually dozes off on the couch midday because he hasn’t been sleeping since the news, maybe he feels responsible for protecting the house of a night. I appreciate how my parents have cared for me through all of this, but its just too much. 
After creeping down the stairs, engulfing the depressive aroma circulating the kitchen, I give my mum a nod to lighten the mood and do a thumbs up to my dad who was basically knocked out on the couch. 
“I’m going to try and get some sleep upstairs love, let me know if you need anything.” She kissed me on the head. 
I stared at my dad for a long 20 seconds, confirming he was definitely asleep. 
This is my opportunity. They will kill me. What if something bad happens?
Different thoughts echoed in the back of my mind, as if my opposite brain hemispheres had conflict. Without second thought, I crept towards the front door, not taking my eyes from my dads face, his mouth open wide with saliva dripping down his chin. I turned the door handle, opened it just enough for me to squeeze through, and exited the house in slow motion, holding my breath. 
Standing outside felt surreal, I could feel the microscopic raindrops absorbing into my skin, moisturising the areas that had turned dry. 
I took a breath of fresh air before speed walking towards the supermarket. Adrenaline pumped through my blood vessels as if I were part of a criminal chase in an action movie. My emotions are contradicting my beliefs. I don’t believe in any of this ‘Dangerous aliens’ nonsense from the television, but I still had some doubt in the back of my mind. It felt essential to check over my shoulder every five steps, now I understand why everyone is so scared. 
The supermarket is only a 7 minute walk, but it felt as though I was walking in endless loops, never reaching my destination. Sticking my hand in my pocket, I cupped all the spare change I had and counted it. 
50p, £1.00, £2.00! Just enough for a sandwich!
My stomach laughed in satisfaction at the food I was soon going to be devouring. 
Before I knew it, the supermarket was in sight, litter lay like a blanket over the car park that hosted nothing but scavenger seagulls and abandoned bikes and scooters. 
Was this a bad idea?
No. I will starve to death if I don’t do something now.
 After picking up the habit from my mum, I started to tip-toe towards the automatic doors of the building, darting my field of vision in all possible directions like a hawk. 
Clearly I weren’t the first person to have this idea, because as I enter, all the shelves are collecting cob-webs with not a grain of food in sight. 
“Oh no” I mumbled, before slapping my hand over my mouth. 
Shut up, they're going to hear you.
I gradually step down the first accessible aisle, where its clearly visible all the food has been snatched. Luckily, this supermarket is like a maze, and there is usually what seems like an infinite food source, there’s no way there is nothing. 
After practically crawling through each end of the building, I’m startled by an aggressive chewing sound. 
 My heart stops beating, while trying to catch my breath, I close my eyes and lay with my back against the feeble shelves. The noise continued, similar to a lion catching a meal after not eating for months. Crunching followed by swallowing and satisfied sighs of relief. 
Maybe its another young girl getting her hands on the last bit of food and I’m just overthinking. Either way, my fight or flight was activated and I weren’t willing to take the chance. 
Slowly, I descended to my hands and knees to get a better view of whatever was in the adjacent aisle. My view weren’t the clearest, but it was clear enough to get an idea of whatever I was looking at. 
Emerald green, sandpaper skin with a washed away tone, each vertebrae in its spine prominent down the centre of its back, hunched over like a starving child. Occasionally, it would lean its head back, sighing in awe at the taste of the Doritos it was practically inhaling. A rounded head with what seemed like bruises and patches of stubble growing around it. 
In my peripheral, a ham and cheese sandwich lay helplessly on the shelf beside this creature. 
Are you stupid, absolutely not.
My conscience argued with my malnourished stomach.
Surely I could out run this thing.
This time, I am willing to take the chance. 
I crawled like a hunting predator, ready to pounce on any approaching threats, although, I doubt I would do much damage. The creature was sat on the floor so it was hard to judge it’s height, but this thing was lanky and could have easily bordered 6 foot tall. 
I paced myself before standing up to ensure full defence, and with enough self criticism, put myself into full view of the creature. 
It froze in place, dropping the remaining crumbs that had survived its binge eating. Black, emotionless eyes glared at me, with an absence of facial expression. It was as though I had pressed a pause button, as it did not move an inch.
 With hesitation, I raised my arm and used my finger to gesture towards the sandwich sitting about two meters away from me. 
It jumped, and grew a startled expression on its face. The first sign of humanity I had seen in these past 20 seconds. I put both of my palms facing forward, and gestured a surrender signal. 
“I don’t want to hurt you, I just want food.”
It tilted its head to the right, unsure of what I was saying. 
I pointed at the sandwich for the second time. “Food.” 
He, she, it, whatever this thing was, arose into a crouching position, stepping backwards, increasing the distance between us.
 Without taking its eyes off of me, it used its thumb and pointer finger, that were each at least 6 inches long, to pinch the corner of the packaging. I smiled in order to confirm that’s what I wanted. 
It let out a grin, each end of its thin lips reaching where its ears should be, except, there were none. It crept forward as if it were treading on glass, and stretched its thin arm out, in fear of coming any closer to me. I snatched the sandwich out of its hand, informing it of the fact this uncertainty and fear was mutual. 
For what felt like days, we glared into each others unfamiliar eyes, while occasionally analysing each and every change in movement, waiting for the other to make the first move and break the tension. My cowardly tendencies took over and the figure firmly stomped towards me, barely lifting its feet off of the ground with each step. 
To create some boundaries, I stood still, feet glued to the ground eyes glued on…that, presenting myself as powerful and fearless. My facial expressions however, betrayed me, I may as-well have screamed at the top of my lungs and ran as far and as fast as possible. But I knew that wouldn’t have done anything, this thing was obviously much more intelligent than me, or any other individual in the human species, even if it couldn’t speak English. 
Goosebumps emerged on my skin with each movement it made, it lifted its arm once again, this time close enough to make contact with me. All I could feel was the chilling temperatures on the tip of its long finger, pressed between my eyebrows, hard enough to make me fall backwards. 
My vision began to fade, as-well as my hearing and stability, the last thing I remember is this thing, grinning, 5 inches away from me. 
…
After regaining consciousness, I found myself tucked up in my fluffy bedding, in my completely pink room, hearing my mum’s footsteps echo up the staircase, but it was different. She weren’t as quiet and as gentle as usual. 
Oh no, she's going to kill me.
Mum burst into my room as if she had won the lottery.
 “Good morning beautiful! What do you want for breakfast?”
I glared at her, utterly confused at what was happening. 
“Sorry! Did I wake you?”
“Mum, are you not mad?”
“Why would I be mad honey?”
“I snuck out? I seen one of the aliens…and I know I shouldn’t have snuc-”
“Aliens? You really are crazy!” She wondered out of my room with a giggle, as if id just finished a comedic performance. 
I leaped out of bed, running downstairs to see if I was dreaming. 
“Where's dad?” I whimpered.
“At work, like he is every Tuesday?” Mum mumbled, treating me like I had gone insane. 
I knew the aliens were not a dream, it had consumed three weeks of our lives, I felt the temperature of its skin, on my skin. 
I ran outside of my house, urging to figure out if I HAD actually gone insane. The eery tension that once existed, didn’t.
I ran as fast as possible, until I felt a broad man catapult into me, throwing me to the ground. 
“OW.” I scold. 
He desperately comes to my rescue, and lifts me from the ground, holding the same anxious expression he had when he had bumped into me. We both gazed at each other, looks on our faces like we hadn’t seen the outside world before. 
It was then that he whispered. 
“Do you remember too?”
 
","August 09, 2023 19:32",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,jt1l0e,Send Us.....More Aliens,Scott M,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/jt1l0e/,/short-story/jt1l0e/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Historical Fiction', 'Science Fiction']",5 likes,"
Liam Hatfield enlisted in the USMC immediately after he turned 18 in 1941. In basic training, his marksmanship record was exceptional. That gained him the respect of the other Marines, and while they would go out on leave and party wildly, he gained the respect of his officers by remaining on base and helping catch up on kitchen cleaning duties so that the rest of his platoon didn't have to get stuck with it later.
 
The only time he ever got into trouble was on one Sunday night. He was cleaning up as usual, and in the back of the storeroom he found several slabs of hickory smoked bacon. They had just been shipped in, and the officers had stashed them for their own private reserve of tasty treat. Liam had a thing for bacon.
 
Sometime between midnight and 0400hrs, he came back to the storeroom. He stole all the bacon-several hundred pounds of it! Slab after slab, he put in the oven, roasted each one until it was soft and greasy. Then he took it out, ate as much as he could, and saved the rest for his friends in the unit.
 
The officers weren't pleased. They woke up and found their bacon had been boosted, and so Liam was busted. He was on a flight to the most remote outpost in the world by the end of the day: Wake Island.
 
Wake Island was just a coral atoll halfway between Hawaii and Japan. There was a small hotel, an airstrip, about 500 other Marines, a few fighter planes, and 1000 construction workers. It was paradise to those who wanted to get away. To those who liked action and frivolity, it was Hell. To generals and admirals, it was the Alamo.
 
On December 7, 1941, when Pearl Harbor was attacked, Japanese bombers attacked Wake Island as well. They destroyed the hotel, wrecked the airstrip, blew apart half the planes, and took out the freshwater tower. During the next few weeks, Liam and his friends repelled several Japanese invasion attempts.   They fought off one amphibious assault.  There were daily bombing raids.  One by one the USMC planes were destroyed, and the coastal artillery guns knocked out by Japanese bombardment.  
 
The US Navy wanted to send a relief force with supplies, but after Pearl Harbor, there were only a few ships left.  They put together a tiny flotilla of cargo ships with an aircraft carrier, a few cruisers, and some destroyers.  The intent was to get supplies to Wake Island before it fell.  Before it left, a message was sent from Pearl Harbor.  They asked the surviving men at Wake, ""What do you need?"" Due to distance and damaged equipment, all the world heard was, ""Send us....more japs!""
 
The small navy task force set sail from Pearl Harbor as soon as it could.  It took them barely two days to get loaded and fueled up for the rescue mission.  They left at night in case Pearl Harbor was being watched by Japanese intelligence.  Two days later, Japanese propaganda radio announced that they knew the task force was on its way, and the Japanese Navy was preparing to sink the last American ships.  Just another day or so away, the US navy rescue mission turned around and headed back to Pearl Harbor.  Wake Island and the men like Liam who were defending it, were abandoned.
 
Not long after, the Japanese made another amphibious landing.  Liam and the other Marines were short on food, water, and ammunition.  They were weak, and barely holding on when the Japanese landed.  This time the Japanese invaded with thousands more troops.  Liam was taken prisoner. For 3 1/2 years he was starved, tortured, and he barely survived until US Marines could come rescue him at the end of the war. He was down to 68lbs in weight.
 
On December 7th 1951, Liam found himself under attack again. This time reports from citizens In Pennsylvania, western Maryland, and central West Virginia all claimed aliens were landing.  The USAF tracked dozens of objects coming into the area from Canada. At first the concern was that it was a first strike of Soviet bombers, but most of the radar contacts stayed together in a wedge formation.
 
As they got deeper into Appalachia, the formations of unidentified flying objects scattered.  They went in all directions.  Then, one by one, they descended into the remote hills and hollers.  A recent snowstorm had just dumped 14"" of snow on the area.  Many of the remote country roads were close to impassable even under the best conditions, but this left many areas impenetrable.
 
Before sunrise, Air Force investigators were on their way to meet with each person who claimed to have seen-what they described as: an alien invasion. Given the lack of road access to most of these areas, it wouldn’t be until two-sometimes three days after the event that any of the investigators met with those who had made the reports.
 
All of the reports were consistent in their description of the craft, their course, and people were even able to tell investigators exactly where the alien invaders landed.
 
When the USAF investigators finally got to Liam, they found no signs of aliens.   They confirmed with the phone company that a call had been made from Liam's house the night of the invasion.   The Sheriff's department confirmed that he had made a report describing the alien craft.  The two investigators got out of their car, looked around, and saw no signs of alien spacecraft.  All they saw was an old log cabin, an old stone smokehouse, a small barn, a 38 Ford pickup with bullet holes in it, and miscellaneous junk strewn about the snow.  
 
Liam was near the barn.  He had a pig or a deer hanging from a tripod and was in the process of butchering it for the smokehouse.  His hunting rifle was leaning on a nearby tree.  When they asked him, ""Where are they?"" ""What were they like?"", he gave a big stretch, pulled on his coveralls, and told them without hesitation: the aliens were tough, required slow cooking or braising, and tasted like bacon.
 
","August 10, 2023 01:04",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,q5uk5r,The Day Our Lives Turned Grey,Peter K,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/q5uk5r/,/short-story/q5uk5r/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fiction', 'Fantasy']",5 likes,"
It was Wednesday, July 26th, 2023. I remember it like it was yesterday. The three whistleblowers walked into the Capitol. All were calm, cool, and put together very well. I remember turning the volume up in the Oval as they were sitting down. I’ve always been interested in this topic, and for some reason, I’ve never been able to get a briefing on it from the Intelligence Community. That’s one thing I learned quickly after being sworn in: The President has no real power.
 
After an hour or so of pointless questions, I grabbed the remote. As I was about to turn the hearing off, one representative asked a very intriguing question: “Throughout these crash retrievals has anything non – human been found?” No way she just asked that, I thought. I don’t think anyone was expecting the answer (or what happened afterwards). Whistleblower number one – the head honcho who started all of this – tightened his tie, sat up straight, looked the congresswoman straight in the eye and said “Ma’am, there were non – human biologics found at most of these crash sites.”
 
The room was silent. Eyes were wide and jaws were on the floor. Then, as if this were a short Science fiction story, there was a loud scream in the back of the room near the entrance. The cameras panned that way and what we all saw that day changed our lives forever. Escorted by multiple military personnel (even some that were armed), were three extraterrestrial beings. They were short, grey, and had really large heads with big, black bug eyes. Chaos erupted in the hearing chamber. Reporters, government officials, the whistleblowers and the civilians who were there on that historic day, all ran out of the building screaming. The beings, unphased by the madness, approached the few remaining congress people in the front of the room. They loomed silently and stood in front of the representatives for a minute or two. No one said anything. They just sat there in stunned silence.
 
“It’s okay.” One of the Greys said. “We aren’t here to cause trouble.” Wide – eyed, one representative said, “H – how can you speak our language? Can you understand me?” The Grey’s looked at each other and smirked. “Yes, we can understand you” a different Grey said. “We can understand you and speak your language with our technology. We have a multi – species (and multi – lingual) device, which is implanted in our brains and on our vocal chords. Wherever we visit, we can change the settings.” “Fascinating!” the other congresswoman exclaimed. The third Grey approached the congress people. “Now, as cliché as it sounds, may we please speak with your leader.” 
 
That’s when I finally turned off the television. As fascinated as I was, I was scared out of my mind. “Lydia! Lydia!” I screamed for a few minutes, until she finally came rushing in. “I’m sorry, sir. I was monitoring the lines, the phones are ringing like crazy. The other world leaders would like to speak with you.” “Tell them I’ll call them back later. Right now, I need you to tell the Secret Service to escort the first lady back to our room, and then bring me a shot of Jack!” I sat there after guzzling down the two shots that were handed to me. *Knock knock* Oh S&%# they’re here! “Come in…” I will never forget when they walked into the Oval Office. These little Grey “people”? “Mr. President…it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand and I did the same. “You can just call me Jack.” “Hello, Jack. My name is Zenith, and next to me is my companion Punti. Over by the door is our colleague Tata.” 
 
“Nice to meet you all…” I said. I was still having a hard time processing all of this. “How can I help you?” “We would like to make an announcement to the world. Your country has the biggest platform on this planet, and your language is the common tongue. Jack, to be honest there is no time to waste. So if you don’t allow us to speak, we will do it anyways, in our own way, and you won’t be able to stop us.” What was I supposed to do? I had to let them speak. “Okay…follow me then.” As I opened the door I was met with glares from top military and intelligence community officials. Out of all those people standing there, only one spoke up and said “You’re doing the right thing, Mr. President.” I nodded and kept moving along while three aliens casually followed me.
 
After what seemed like the longest walk of my life, we finally reached the press briefing room. As I expected, it was empty. “All you have to do is turn the camera on. We will do the rest” Zenisth said. *Click* I nodded to signal we were ready to roll. I still had no idea how they planned to broadcast this to the whole world, but somehow they did it, and so they began. I remember Punti speaking: “People of Earth, we have visited you for many years in secret. We have met with leaders you did not elect and have discussed many things that concern you. Since your leaders have not made you aware of our existence, we decided it was time to do it ourselves. There are many things you should know and we have decided what is most important for you to hear right now in this moment. In the future, you will hear the rest. Right now, we want to discuss this world’s nuclear capabilities, why there will be nuclear disarmament, and what is happening on your planet. Currently, nine countries on your planet possess nuclear weapons. This is unacceptable. A few of you are inching closer and closer to nuclear war, which is why we felt it was necessary to make our presence known today. You see, your governments don’t fight for you. All of these petty little wars are about two things: money and control. These greedy humans have corrupted your governments, and only serve themselves. They don’t care what happens to any of you. If a nuclear bomb goes off, millions of your kind will perish, but your leaders will be safe. They’ve only made plans for themselves. They don’t really care about you or your planet. If they did, they would have destroyed their nuclear arsenals long ago. Your planet is also dying. She is fading at a slow speed, but we fear a nuclear blast will increase that speed. This is why, today, we are calling on all nations who possess nuclear weapons to destroy them. We are asking in a peaceful manner. If you do not cooperate, then we will disarm them for you. You have until tomorrow to make your decision. Thank you.”
 
The beings left the White House and retreated to their mothership. We couldn’t see it due to their cloaking device, but after watching them fly their saucer – shaped craft above the White House and disappear, we could conclude their main ship was right above us. This was the hardest day of my life. What am I going to do? If America gives up her weapons, who’s to say Russia or China wouldn’t take advantage and launch a nuclear strike? Can we trust the Grey’s to stop them? As of now, no. “Sir, the lines are going crazy again. Who do you want first?” “Lydia, I honestly don’t know. Whoever called first I guess.” For hours I spoke with leader after leader. NONE agreed to give up their nukes – and I don’t blame them. I think I actually agree with some of our enemies on this.
 
At this moment we needed to make a decision – either we put aside our differences and fight the Grey’s until they are dead and/or leave us alone, or we agree to disarm. I never once thought the second option was the one we were going to choose. So, foolishly, we gathered our militaries and prepared for a strike the next day. That night I could not sleep (for obvious reasons), so I went back into the Oval. What is going to happen tomorrow? Deep down I think I knew the outcome. As I sat there thinking about my life and the decisions I’ve made, the sun started blasting through the windows. Either that, or we just got nuked. Thankfully, it was just the sun! So, after making sure my family was safe, I gave the order to our generals to start with the attack. The other countries would soon follow from the air. Given that this ship was likely over the White House, I gave the order to evacuate last night. I was the only one left, and honestly, I wanted to fight too, but I knew that wasn’t an option.
 
I was escorted to a secret bunker a few miles away. Our attack was being televised for the world to see. As always, I was watching. I stared intensely as the first round of ICBM’s were fired. We were so obviously shooting blind. We assumed their mothership was right above us, but we didn’t know one – hundred – percent. After our first attack ended, their cloaking device turned off and showed the world the biggest craft anyone has ever seen! It was about the size of a football field, and had tinier ball – shaped crafts coming out of every side. This is it. This is war. The spherical objects exited the mothership and flew at impressive speeds. “There’s no way we can hit those” I muttered to myself. Missiles were flying all over the city. Craft, human and non – human, were zipping through the air. There were so many explosions it was difficult to tell if they were from the missiles or the crafts. “Sir” Lydia said as she stormed into the room. “People around the world are demanding an end to this. They are protesting in the streets!” 
 
“There’s only one way this ends, Lydia, and it’s not going to be pretty. This is a bloodbath, and I can put an end to it right now.” “How do you intend to do that, sir?” “The only way I know how. With our nukes. They are the strongest weapons we have.” She stared at me for a moment. Her face turned bright red as she screamed “You would kill humans too! You would be killing everyone in this city! It’s suicide for everyone except you.”  “Tell me, what else am I supposed to do?!” Lydia stormed out of the room with tearful eyes. That was probably the last time I would see her. I walked over to the desk. It was old and dusty. What did I expect? We were in a bunker after all. I picked up the phone, I punched in the code and was immediately connected with the soldiers in the missile silo. “Mr. President” a deep voice answered. “It’s time” I said. “Yes, sir.” I waited for the confirmation. Any minute now two nukes would be detonating over D.C. and into that mothership. “Sir…something is wrong…” “What is it?” I replied. “The code. The buttons. They aren’t working. Nothing is working!”
 
“They must have disarmed them!” I let out a scream in frustration as I slammed the phone down. What am I going to do? I ruined everything. So many people are dead because of me. Suddenly, the TV went silent. I lifted my head to see what happened. The fighting had stopped. The other countries had retreated, and our own military had to fall back. One of the spherical pods floated down onto the White House lawn. Tata exited and walked to the podium in the garden. She started speaking: “People of Earth, we warned your leaders what would happen if they decided to fight instead of join us in our quest for peace. Now, you see that we were correct. They don’t care about you. The leader of America was about to use a nuclear weapon to stop us – over his own city! He would have killed you all. We neutralized that threat, as well as all the others. We did not want anymore bloodshed today, especially after seeing the citizens of this world protest their leaders for peace. That is why we stopped our retaliatory attack. We came back to offer your leaders a second chance. If they refuse, we will leave you to destroy yourselves. However, if you accept, we will help you live in peace. Now, if President Peters would come out from his bunker and make a decision for his planet, we would greatly appreciate it.” 
 
I take back what I said – this was the toughest decision I ever had to make. We finally pulled up to the White House. As I stepped out of the car, I waved off my Secret Service detail. If anything were to happen to me here, they wouldn’t be able to stop it anyways. Tata gestured for me to speak at the podium. “What will it be, Mr. President?” She asked with a smirk on her face. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, straightened myself out, and started speaking from my heart in front of the whole world. “My fellow Americans…my fellow humans, the last seventy – two hours have been the most stressful and scary hours of my life. I’m sure you can all relate. Myself and other world leaders were faced with a tough decision, and I’m ashamed to admit we made the wrong one. We should have listened to you. We should has asked you! We work for you. You wanted peace and we should have tried to make peace. Instead, we brought more death and destruction to our world. I know it will take time, and some of you will never, but I am asking for your forgiveness. I accept the Grey’s offer for peace. I give them permission to destroy our nuclear missiles, and I hope other leaders do the same. Again, I apologize for my ignorance.”
 
There was nothing left for me to say. I stepped away from the microphone and stood there waiting. I was waiting for other leaders to step up. Minutes went by and the cameras sat there filming nothing but silence. That is until Lydia came out of nowhere. She was in a full sprint from her car screaming “Sir! Sir!” I’ve never seen her run like that before. “Sir! They’re calling. They’re all calling and they all agree.” I was in disbelief. All I could do was walk away, and go sit in my office. I poured a glass of whiskey (on the rocks, of course) and sat at my desk to reflect on what just happened. The world changed today. It changed so fast and in a way I never thought possible. Will there really be peace on Earth? Can we live side – by – side with aliens? Can we live side – by – side with our fellow humans? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
 
I remember that period of time like it just happened a few days ago. I think about all my worries and stresses and just laugh. A lot has changed since the Grey’s first made their debut five years ago. The human race put aside their differences and became one. We united for planet Earth. This helped us stop fighting with each other and also made us more accepting of all the different alien races that have come and gone. Some have stayed (Zenith and Punti wanted the “human experience” of buying a house) and some have gone on to travel the universe and spread the word about the new and improved Earth (Tata is a great ambassador). Humanity is doing well, and is putting Earth on track to become one of the greatest planets in our solar system. As for me, former President Jackson Peters, I’m doing just fine in my little cell. Our people put me on trial for “war crimes” and “crimes against humanity” for the whole “almost nuking our entire Captiol city thing (It’s okay. I deserve it).
","August 10, 2023 03:18",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,uzyg11,Power Outage,Anne Reed,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/uzyg11/,/short-story/uzyg11/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Mystery']",5 likes,"
It was a candlelit dinner. Three tall candles stood between the serving dishes, and the wine glasses glowed a dark red in the dim light. At the head of the table, Keenan Barber stood, his wine glass in hand, and his round, double-chinned face smiling at everyone, particularly his guests. 
 
""I would like to propose a toast,"" he said, raising his glass, ""to our guests, the great visitors of Earth, the Binti. May they no longer be called aliens but friends. To friendship!""
 
""To friendship!"" chorused the others. 
 
Lindar Zetnin, and his wife, Erhari, drank the wine of their hosts, then set down their glasses as Keenan lowered himself into his chair. Nellie Barber, who sat opposite her husband, smiled albeit a little nervously at her guests. She was a thin woman with graying brown hair and a gentle face, although that face was now gently nervous. She was not quite as used to the Binti as Keenan was, but she wanted to be used to them. 
 
Lindar and Erhari were humanoid, even having five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot. There was nothing unusual about them except for their eyes: the eyes of these aliens were white blanks. When Nellie had first seen those blank eyes, she had nearly screamed, and it was only good breeding that prevented her from embarrassing both herself and the Binti she had first met. She agreed with Keenan that it was important to invite these new people into their homes, if only so she could acclimate herself to them. 
 
She thought she was acclimating quite well. Once she had gotten past the eyes, she realized that Lindar and Erhari were quite good-looking. They were in their thirties, and both were slender in a graceful sort of way. Lindar's face was narrow and rather angular, but still handsome, and his head was covered by thick, brown hair. His wife was a little shorter than he was, and her black hair curved past her oval face and down to her shoulders. Nellie was pleased that, however different the Binti might be, they were at least very polite. 
 
""I'm so happy you found the house next door,"" said Nellie, once food had been served. 
 
Lindar smiled. ""Thank you, Nellie.""
 
""We like it very much,"" added Erhari. 
 
""Where is it that you work again?"" asked Keenan. 
 
""We found work at a hotel,"" explained Lindar. ""I work at the front desk at night, and Erhari cleans the rooms at night.""
 
""At least we keep the same hours,"" said Erhari cheerfully. 
 
""Excellent,"" replied Keenan, beaming. ""I'm glad you found work so quickly.""
 
""Me, too,"" agreed Nellie. 
 
""The Earthlings have been so kind to us,"" said Lindar. ""We're very grateful.""
 
""We feel that Earthlings are extremely open-minded,"" said Erhari. ""So refreshing. Other planets have not been this kind.""
 
""Thank you for saying that,"" responded Nellie, proudly, for she had always considered herself an open-minded person and was glad to hear that someone thought so too. 
 
""Never listen to a close-minded person,"" advised Keenan. ""They're stupid people, you know, and always wrong about everything. They lack, uh, compassion.""
 
Nellie nodded vigorously. ""Compassion. That's the key to a peaceful existence.""
 
""And intelligence,"" said Keenan, as an afterthought. ""These narrow-minded people aren't intelligent.""
 
""I've often found that compassion and intelligence go together often,"" chimed in Nellie. 
 
""You have no idea how few people out there lack both compassion and intelligence,"" said Erhari, leaning closer to Nellie, as if to take her completely into her confidence. ""Many people are not good people. They kept fighting us, and for no reason.""
 
""How horrible,"" gasped Nellie, and she wondered how she could have thought that the Binti were scary. 
 
""If everyone could have accepted us as we are,"" said Lindar, ""then we wouldn't have had any problems with anyone. We certainly don't want to create problems.""
 
""Especially since creating problems would mean taking more time to find solutions,"" joked Keenan, and everyone laughed. 
 
By the end of dinner, Nellie thought the dinner had been a complete success. She found herself liking the Zetnins more and more. Erhari offered to wash dishes with her. 
 
""Thank you so much,"" said Nellie. ""I appreciate it. I do wish the power hadn't gone out so we wouldn't have to manually wash the dishes with soap.""
 
""Between the two of us, I'm sure we'll get it done easily,"" answered Erhari. 
 
Keenan brought a candle into the living room so he and Lindar would have light to talk by, while Nellie and Erhari washed dishes. Then there was a sudden hammering at the door. 
 
""What on earth's that?"" cried Nellie. ""It sounds like the police.""
 
""Of course it's not the police,"" called Keenan, rising from his armchair and crossing over to the door. 
 
Nellie heard the door open, and Keenan said, ""Howard, what's the matter with you? Scared me and Nell - ""
 
""I need to talk to you,"" snapped Howard. 
 
Nellie could not see Howard's face, but she could tell he was either very angry, very fearful, or both. 
 
""I need to talk in private, please,"" Howard said, more calmly. 
 
""I'm entertaining, as you can see,"" protested Keenan, but Howard persisted, and he relented. 
 
The two men stepped outside onto the porch, and Keenan shut the door behind him. 
 
""I apologize for the interruption,"" called out Nellie to Lindar. ""I don't know what could be so urgent.""
 
""No worries,"" returned Lindar. 
 
""That's enough dishes for now, thank you,"" Nellie said to Erhari. ""Let's go to the living room. I'm sure Keenan will be in soon.""
 
He was, but not before Nellie, Lindar, and Erhari heard Keenan and Howard arguing, almost fighting, on the porch. Nellie was perplexed, for they had always been friendly. When her husband came back in, Howard had already left the porch. 
 
""Idiot,"" exclaimed Keenan, collapsing into his armchair again. ""What an idiot.""
 
""I hope it's nothing too serious,"" said Lindar.
 
""Serious? I don't think so. You can't take anything too seriously from a man like that. You know what he said?"" continued Keenan, glowering at everyone. ""He blamed you two (he gestured at the Zetnins) for the power outage. He also blamed you for the death of that poor young couple on the next street over.""
 
Nellie gaped. ""What?""
 
""Such paranoia I have never seen, at least not recently.""
 
Lindar laughed. ""These accusations are unjust, yes, but hilariously so.""
 
Erhari laughed too. ""Don't fret, Nellie. There are hysterical people like this everywhere in the universe. We have seen it.""
 
Nellie sighed. ""I wish I could see more of the universe like you have.""
 
""There's so much to see,"" said Lindar. ""But don't go to Serima. That planet is no longer worth seeing.""
 
""Why not?"" asked Nellie. 
 
""Well . . ."" He hesitated. 
 
""Almost all the people on that planet perished,"" said Erhari, quietly. ""It happened right after we arrived.""
 
""Was it a plague?"" guessed Keenan. 
 
""Yes.""
 
""I'm afraid I brought up the saddest topic I could think of,"" apologized Lindar. ""Let's think of something nicer.""
 
The conversation turned to the best sights the Zetnins should see on Earth, as recommended by Keenan and Nellie. It was only when everyone began to yawn that the Barbers and the Zetnins stood and stretched. 
 
""It's been such a lovely evening,"" began Nellie, but the candle was abruptly blown out. 
 
""Shoot,"" muttered Keenan, for the candles in the dining room were low and hardly emitting any light now. 
 
Lindar's voice rang out in the darkness. ""We thank you for your kindness, your generosity, your compassion. You have saved the Binti.""
 
Nellie froze. His voice was much too loud and strong for her comfort. 
 
""You have given us your electricity,"" said Erhari, her voice clear and her words concise.
 
""And now, you must pardon us,"" said Lindar. ""The Binti have not yet learned to survive on our own energy, so we have learned to take that energy from others.""
 
Nellie heard her husband's panicked voice. ""Energy? You mean, electrical?""
 
""No,"" said Erhari. ""We mean human. Human energy is far superior to the energy of even the Serimans, and they helped us to survive for a thousand years.""
 
""With luck,"" said Lindar, ""your human energy will help us survive twice as long.""
 
The Barbers were found dead the next day, as many others were found afterwards. 
 
","August 11, 2023 04:50",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,mf8f5a,New Thanksgiving,Mark Ritchie,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/mf8f5a/,/short-story/mf8f5a/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Indigenous']",5 likes,"
**The following story contains allegorical depictions of racism and genocide.**
 
 
	“Look honey, that one’s a soldier! Watch out, he might try to shoot you with his bang bang!”
 
	They’re speaking Drakellian but the translator installed in my cochlear nerve fixes that.  Even without it I’d still understand, as often as I hear that joke. The child has three golden eyes in front, one in back, which makes it a boy. The rear optic hasn’t opened yet though. He’s still very young. He points his thinly scaled finger at me and mimics gun noises as best as he can, tongue flicking between the jagged incisors that have barely begun to protrude from his upper jaw. 
 
	“Can my son get a picture?” 
 
	This one has six eyes, lined up like teets. That’s the mother. “Sure thing, ma’am,” the second translator installed on my larynx allows her to comprehend my answer, though she giggles at the “human accent” my supervisor programmed into it.  She’s taller than me by at least a foot, which is still short by Drakellian standards. They’re both wearing lime green  “Earth World Minneapolis” shirts.  
 
	I muster my best “soldier pose,” pointing my prop rifle at the child while taking a knee, causing the child to hiss in delight, something I will never get used to.  Mom taps the screen on one of her gauntlets, triggering the strobe lights in the room, capturing the photo.  Glancing back at her screen, she’s satisfied and lifts the boy using her long, slender tail, placing him gently back into one of the wagons we rent at the gift shop.
 
	This is life on the klantique - their term for the small slices of land they let us keep.  Here, Reykjavik, Helsinki, Anchorage, Falkland Islands, Yakutsk, and for some reason they let us keep all of New Zealand.  Pushed us towards the poles after they took hold of everything from 40 degrees south to 40 degrees north latitude.
 
	Another group of young males approach. Only some of their rear eyes are open. Teenagers. “Is that a Mike over there? Hey Mike, where’s your Sally?”  What I wouldn’t give sometimes to be able to turn this damn translator off.  My name’s Thomas, my dad was Glen, hell, I only knew two guys named Mike.  Assholes.
 
	I was the Executive VP of Sales for AgriNon for 10 years for Christ’s sake and now here I am, dressed up like an Earth War soldier every day for their goddamn amusement.
A few years ago they finally allowed us to open theme resorts on Human Lands.  The High Tribunal ruled that we “should be allowed the privilege of self-regulation, once again” since we were no longer a threat to them or the planet. We were never much of a threat to them to begin with, so it wasn’t really much of a war, more like an extermination.  The planet, that’s a different story. 
 
	I see the next group approaching wearing matching outfits.  Management told us that a team of Drakellian athletes was staying this weekend for training - the Crohntari Earthlings.  They’re all wearing the team's logo on their clothing, a human face frozen in a scream. Each one is taller than the next, some approaching 13 feet.  They see me, instantly drop to their knees and waddle over to gather around.  I manage a smile but I wish this rifle was real, not that it would do much good if it were.  “Ok everyone, two fingers and say USA!”.  The twos are for the number of eyes I have.  The strobe blasts again and they all check their arm screens. Another successful souvenir.
 
	The first few months after the colonists landed were crazy.  Public opinions ranged from “kill them all immediately” to “it’s a hoax” to “what can we learn.”  They explained that due to their extremely long life cycles, 200 to 300 years, they had overpopulated their home planet.  By 2031, our climate had warmed to the point that the Draks finally felt Earth could sustain their species and so after years of monitoring, they finally landed in the New Mexico desert. Conspiracy theorists loved that shit.
 
	Naturally, their technologies were far superior to ours, but they had limited knowledge of our planet's physical make up.  To survive here, they’d need to grow their food.  That’s where we came in. My dad was the CEO of our company, AgriNon, and under his leadership we’d grown to be a $2 billion agricultural giant. The agreement was this: they would inhabit the desert spaces that we could not and we would share with them our knowledge of the soils. In exchange, they would share their technologies to help us survive in the new, harsher climate. The next three years could not have been greater - both species thrived. Diseases that had been around for centuries were eradicated.  The planet continued to warm, but no one cared.  We were protected now.  We even created a world holiday to celebrate the success - Shavaksnia in Drakellian but we called it New Thanksgiving. More colonists began arriving on the planet monthly. 
 
	 Three middle-aged Drak couples come strolling up. One of the females is wearing a sash.  A wedding party.  At least they have the decency to stand up for the picture. As they walk away, one of the males screeches  “thanks Plusser,” and makes a pyramid symbol with his claws then crosses his arms to make a plus sign.  His woman digs all seven digits or her left claw into his shoulder. “Aw c’mon Krzak, that’s racist.  Leave the poor thing alone.”
 
	It’s a reference to my blood, which right now is boiling. Two years after the first Shavaksnia, the climate took another drastic increase since we had stopped trying to mitigate it.  In response, Drak scientists created a portable, wearable heat shield. Out of the kindness of all three of their hearts, they would provide a shield to every man, woman, and child. What we didn’t know - and they claimed ignorance of as well - was that one of the components was a pathogen that was incredibly deadly to humans.  Two months after the rollout, people started developing festering scales all over their bodies. That was the tipping point.  Realizing what was happening, the world’s armies went to war with the Drakellians, but that was a slaughter.  The disease ripped through 70% of the population in just over eight months.  The only people left were those that were immune - people with blood type A+.  Plussers. 
 
	I watch the wedding party pause at the next exhibit.  My buddy Larry is sitting at a news desk in a suit with the headline “Aliens Land On Earth” splashed across the backdrop.  The same Drak does the same A Plus hand signal as he walks away, but Larry isn’t having it.  He gets up from behind the desk and tries to throw a punch, but gets thumped in the jaw by a tail swing.  The rear eye saw it coming.  Larry flies back against the desk and slumps to the floor. Blood trickles from the side of his mouth.  Security quickly circles in and pulls the guest off Larry but not soon enough.  Larry had been a lawyer - my lawyer. 
 
	There will be no repercussions for the Drakellian, of course.  Larry swung first and the High Tribunal had ruled that humans could not bring legal actions against any Drakellian for crimes committed on Human Land.  I set down my rifle and scramble over to check on my friend.  
 
	“I can’t move my legs, Tom.”  It looks like the force of the impact has broken his back. 
 
	“It’s alright Larry, I got you.  We’ll get help.”  I wave for security to come back, but they’re busy escorting the attacker to his room. 
 
	“It’s Ok, Tom, it’s ok,” he says. His breathing is sporadic. It slows. Then it stops.
 
	Just another day on the klantique.
 
","August 11, 2023 13:52",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ilxhfr,Lineage,Zyn Marlin,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ilxhfr/,/short-story/ilxhfr/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fiction']",5 likes,"
	For the first decade after the Merge, the planets and their inhabitants fought a bloody, brutal war. The Pyrithians had the advantage in natural defense and in technology. Their astronomical engineers had predicted Pyrith’s exit from the plane of its universe into the space occupied by a slightly smaller blue-green planet in a parallel universe and had been able to prepare for the intrusion, so while Pyrithian life losses had still been astronomical, they were almost incomparable to those suffered by the soft-bodied, oblivious humans when their planet was all but swallowed up. But the human survivors were ferocious in defending what was left of their species and their planet, and though their remaining weaponry was primitive, the humans themselves were quick and subversive and relentless. Pyrithian warriors returned to their camps on the surface with tales of human combatants underground who carried on fighting past the point when their weak, pulpy bodies should have expired from the damage they had taken. Nevertheless, the humans did always, eventually, succumb. Pyralith itself occasionally took its own victims as sinkholes opened in weakened crust. The tide of war turned inexorably toward Pyrithian victory. By the middle of the second decade, the humans were no more, and the Pyrithians began to rebuild.	“And now we are four generations strong, my sons.” M’rith brushed a strand of hair from Tag’s sweat-sticky cheek, careful to keep her jeweled claws from catching his skin. The low firelight flickering in the center pit reflected in her round, dark eyes as she gazed around the opulent sleeping chamber at her three offspring. “The Belikai line, reborn by the wrath of Pyrith and the tenacity of our people. Heirs to the new civilization.”	“Even the deformed freak,” Herrik said from the farthest pallet. Tag bristled and tried to sit up, ready to jump off his own mat and pound his eldest brother - or at least make a good try of it - but M’rith’s firm hand on his chest stayed him.	“Tag can’t help how he emerged,” Grath muttered sleepily from the pallet between them. “Leave him alone.”	“And none of you have reached the age of your scales,” M’rith reminded them. “All of you are as soft-bodied as the humans who thought they could hold ground against us. We may have lost that common enemy, but now you are vulnerable to the slavering clutches of the Pidari faction to the north. It is incumbent upon each of you - my warrior, my diplomat, my foreclaw - to protect his brothers, that our line may carry on.” She rose gracefully from the foot of Tag’s pallet, smoothing her light robes. “Sleep now, my sons.”	The door closed behind M’rith. Tag closed his eyes and snuggled into the embrace of his downy mattress, letting the soft crackle of the fire and the deepening of Grath’s breathing next to him lull him toward slumber.	A thump against the side of his mat jolted Tag conscious. Herrik crouched over him, limbs caging Tag’s much smaller body, clawed hands gripping Tag’s forelimbs, face looming close to his. Tag recoiled, but the mattress that had before seemed such a haven was now an unyielding pressure against his back.	“My age will be coming soon, and then you’d better be ready to protect yourself,” Herrik hissed through sharp teeth, his words spittle-flecked grenades that made Tag flinch and turn his head. “You are weak and unnatural. Maybe I will give you over to the Pidarii as a goodwill sacrifice. At least your death could be useful.”	“Get off me,” Tag whispered.	Herrik leaned closer. “What was that, creature?”	Tag was silent for a moment. Then he rolled his head to face Herrik again, and launched the glob of saliva he had let pool in his mouth.	Herrik reared back, letting go of Tag’s arms and wiping furiously at his eyes. “You little - !” he shouted, the rest of his words vanishing in a shriek of fury.	“What are you doing?” Grath was up and pulling the howling Herrik away from Tag, dumping him, hands still pressed to his face, onto the stone floor where he rolled back and forth in agony. Grath pressed a foot against Herrik’s neck, the place where even in full scales he would remain vulnerable, and Herrik stilled instantly, his cries cutting out like a snuffed flame.	“I have told you,” Grath said, soft and deadly, “to leave him alone. Do you understand me now?”	Herrik winced and grabbed at Grath’s hindlimb, and Tag guessed Grath had added a little more pressure to underscore his words. “Yes,” he choked out.	“On the rise, I will tell M’rith to give you your own chamber. You are the closest of us to your age and should have your privilege.” Grath lowered his foot and stepped back, allowing Herrik to roll over and stand. Tag and Grath watched as Herrik slunk back to his own pallet and threw himself down with his back to them. Then Grath turned to Tag. His round, black eyes were warm and concerned. “Are you well?” he asked quietly.	Tag nodded.	“Your forelimbs?”	He was rubbing at the tingling in them, Tag realized, and quickly dropped his hands. “They’re fine.”	Grath studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Get some sleep. He won’t come for you again.”#	From then on, Herrik gave Tag a wide berth, especially when Grath was present, but his gaze on Tag remained as hard and hateful as ever. The relief Tag felt when Herrik’s scales finally erupted a few orbits later and M’rith sent him away to live and train with the rest of the empire’s warriors was the lifting of a burning Pyralithian boulder from his chest.	The despair he felt when Grath’s scales erupted less than an orbit later and he was sent away to join Herrik was nearly its equal.	“He will soon return,” M’rith said one day after Grath had been gone for several orbits. Tag, as had become custom when he wasn’t in his studies, was out on the balcony overlooking the training fields. The warriors were figurines in the mid distance, stepping through exercises in a sharp choreography that had become a routine backdrop since Tag’s earliest orbits. He looked up as M’rith joined him at the railing. “Within the orbit, his training will be complete.”	“And what of me?” Tag exclaimed. He spun away and began pacing the length of the balcony. “My age has been and passed. When am I to gain my scales and begin my own training?”	M’rith reached out and caught his tunic as he passed, and he jerked to a stop, head bowed, cheeks hot. A clawed finger touched him under the chin, and he swallowed and met her eyes.	“You are my most important son,” she murmured. “My foreclaw. The Pidarii grow ever more emboldened, and I need a son who will remain here to keep watch over our domain while my other sons are away. Your eldest brother will command my warriors. Your elder brother will lead my diplomatic corps. And you will lead our people.”#	A shout launched him out of slumber into a scene of flames and chaos. Clouds of smoke boiled up to the ceiling, obscuring the view of the stars through the vent hole. The central fire in his chamber had jumped the pit and was tearing through the rugs and curtains, licking at the foot of his mat. Tag leapt out of his pallet, coughing, pulling the edge of his night tunic up over his face. A large figure, no more than a shadow through the smoky air, loomed in the doorway. Crouching, still choking, Tag ran toward it.	Herrik’s huge hand came down on Tag’s shoulder, nearly sending him entirely to the floor, but then hauled him up by his tunic and shoved him out into the hall. The air was clearer here, and Tag heaved it into his lungs. Elsewhere, not close enough to orient it, he could hear the crack of incendiary weapons striking stone and scales, the screams of Pyrithians.   “What is happening?” he demanded, wheeling on Herrik. His eldest brother had grown massive in his orbits of service as commander of the Belikai warriors, but his expression was flat and abstracted.	“Pidarii,” he grunted. “Grath sent word too late. They managed to infiltrate our forces and gain access to our domain. M’rith is…”	“No.”	“We must leave. You cannot remain here.”	“No.” Tag was shaking his head, dizzy with smoke and shock. “No, I can’t leave, this is my domain. I am…I am tasked with keeping watch.”	Herrik’s laugh was the scrape of gravel against gravel. “Keeping watch over what?”	Tag was shivering now. “Grath will return.”	“Recall, Grath knew.” Herrik ran a hand over his face. His scales rippled across his body. “He also sent word of a place. We will meet him there. Come.”	Tag’s body felt loose and disconnected as he stumbled after Herrik, down through the escape tunnels. They emerged into a quiet darkness that was jarring for its lack of violence. Tag realized he had expected the fight to be continuing out here, but they crept into the rock fields with no alarm being raised.	They walked the rest of the night and through the next rise. As night closed its curtain around them again, Tag stumbled, tripped, and went sprawling. Herrik stopped and hauled him back up.	“I can’t,” Tag said. His voice was gravel and smoke. He was swaying lightly, leaning into Herrik’s grasp. Herrik grunted and swung Tag up onto his back. Somehow, Tag fell asleep, grief and exhaustion towing him under.	Something woke him some time later. He was lying on the ground now, but something else, some noise, maybe, had drawn him into consciousness. The new rise was just starting to wrap its sash around the horizon, and when Tag sat up, he could make out Herrik standing a distance away.	“Herrik?” he called. “Where is Grath?”	Then he heard again what had woken him. An ominous crack rent the air. Tag scrambled up to his knees, searching for the source.	“This is still quite an active area from the Merge,” Herrik called from behind him. “Sinkholes occur frequently.”	Another crack, and then a long, low groan, like the Earth buried underneath Pyralith’s weight was in agony. Small rocks ahead of him began to judder, and then disappeared as the ground yawned open underneath. Tag scrambled to get up, to run, but faster than he could gain ground, the hungry Earth reached out to him and swallowed him whole. The last thing he heard as he tumbled into the darkness was Herrik’s echo: At least your death will be useful.#	He blinked his eyes open.	A pair of eyes blinked back at him.	They weren’t black. They weren’t large and round like any Pyrithian he had ever seen.	They looked like his own eyes, small and bright.	Tag startled violently, and the other face disappeared, then came back a moment later, cautious, wary. The mouth opened and sounds came out, but Tag didn’t understand. His head was throbbing and his face was wet on one side. He was crumpled on top of a pile of debris, dirt and rocks piled on and around him. He could feel his forelimbs, and he moved them, trying to dig himself out. The sounds from the other creature - another deformed Pyrithian? Cast out from his own family, as well? - increased in volume and pitch. Tag felt another set of hands working to help him, and after a few moments, he was free. Carefully, he tested his hindlimbs, then drew himself up slowly to lean against the fall of dirt and rocks.	The other deformed Pyrithian reached for him again. He took Tag’s hand, put a cloth into it, and gently lifted his hand to his own head where it felt wet. The wound stung, and Tag hissed but held the cloth. The other said something again, but Tag shook his head.	“I don’t understand you,” he said helplessly. The poor creature must have been exiled from his people from his earliest orbits.	The other’s eyes widened. “Pyrithian?” he said.	Tag nodded, sagging in relief. “Yes.”	“Not many can speak it. You must be a scout from another colony in the Under? Did you not realize this is a dangerous area? We’re both fortunate we weren’t killed.”	“Not many can speak Pyrithian?” Tag frowned. “Everyone speaks Pyrithian.”	The other frowned and took a step back. “Who…are you?”	“Tag Belika, of the Belikai line.”	The other took a step back, eyes wide. “Belikai? You were with Pyrithians?”	“Yes,” Tag said. “My brother betrayed me. He always believed me to be unnatural. Did your line…cast you out for your deformities?”	“Deformities?” The other laughed, and the sound was a little high but otherwise like Tag’s own, warm, not rough and scraped like his brothers’ or M’rith’s. He took another step away from Tag. “I’m not a deformed Pyrithian, I’m a human. And, looking at you, I’d say…so are you.”
","August 12, 2023 03:42","[[{'Kristin Johnson': 'Ohh interesting, The aliens have totally dominated the Earth.\n\nGreat line. “And none of you have reached the age of your scales,” \n\nIf they actually are humans (and if humans have maybe intermarried with aliens), then they might not have scales necessarily, yes? Not all of them, am I right? ""Deformed"" is just a way to say ""human"" without saying it.', 'time': '00:11 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Zyn Marlin': ""Tag was the only human, but I like that idea that there could be interbreeding or that maybe he's even a hybrid of the two species! Thanks for giving me something to chew on."", 'time': '14:28 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}]], [{'Zyn Marlin': ""Tag was the only human, but I like that idea that there could be interbreeding or that maybe he's even a hybrid of the two species! Thanks for giving me something to chew on."", 'time': '14:28 Aug 17, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []], [{'J. D. Lair': 'A well thought out and detailed story Zyn! \n\nI believe it could be a prologue of sorts for a much larger story, one which I would love to read. :)\n\nThe names were a little hard to read it first or figure out how to sound them out, but I got used to it eventually. \n\nYou left subtle breadcrumbs for the ending throughout the story, so I was pleased with how you tied it all up at the end. Great job!', 'time': '16:29 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '1'}, [{'Zyn Marlin': 'Thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback. I am working on revising it for another contest, and there is definitely a lot of room for expansion in the future, as well!', 'time': '18:06 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}]], [{'Zyn Marlin': 'Thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback. I am working on revising it for another contest, and there is definitely a lot of room for expansion in the future, as well!', 'time': '18:06 Aug 15, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,996c2l,Welcome Arlkanians !,Guiton Blackburn,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/996c2l/,/short-story/996c2l/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Historical Fiction', 'Science Fiction']",4 likes,"
#210 
Welcome Arlkanians ! !
 
 “Hold the ship image gently and make sure that the Arlkskin gloves are fitting snugly.”
Groox, my Arlkaninan instructor, was giving me instructions on handling the ship, or flying saucer as it is commonly called by us Earthlings. This was just a simulator exercise; I was learning the procedures of positioning the ship before initiating the vector and speed through space. 
The simulated dimension we were working in was on planet Earth, so everything still looked familiar. It would be some time before I would be proficient enough to navigate my way through the wormhole at superluminal speed, all the way to the planet Arlk. 
In this amazing, simulated environment in full colour and 3D, it was difficult to tell the difference between this simulation and the real world, or worlds if you would. 
 
Groox is the earth name for 718151524, translated using our standard 26 letter alphabet, Groox would not need to speak to his fellow Arlk companions using his vocal device, they normally communicate via a combination of Gamma and Theta brainwaves. Groox has a vocal soundwave transmitter attached to a very slim, almost invisible collar around his neck, that transforms his brainwave thoughts into soundwave speech which sounds as normal as any of us Earthlings do. 
When he chooses to, he can move his mouth to correlate with his speech and it makes it almost impossible to discern that he is not actually talking. 
 
Arlk is an earth like planet orbiting a star in the Segue 1 Galaxy, about 12,000 light years away from our sun. 
Arlk has a problem with maintaining its light Carbon dioxide (Co2-12) balance in their atmosphere due to an erratic magnetic field and a type of Solar radiation emitting from their sun, Carbon dioxide is constantly being lost to outer space. 
They have long ago depleted all the fossil fuels on the planet along with all the Carbon dioxide producing machines and power plants. The smaller planet size with lower gravity, does not make it any easier. 
As a result, plant life there is threatened resulting in animal life and their form of human life there being compromised due to the lack of oxygen being produced by photosynthesis in their forests. 
 
For thousands of years Arlkanians have been visiting earth, extracting, and processing millions of tons of carbon dioxide in the form of Co2-12 from our atmosphere. The gas is processed into de-natured microscopic Co2-12 and loaded into uranium containers for transportation back to Arlk. 
The process is reversed when they arrive at Arlk, the lifesaving Co2-12 is re-natured and released into their thin atmosphere. In their visits to our planet, they have also taken samples of our trees and plant life to aid in the process.
 
The lower gravity on Arlk has resulted in Arlkanians being of a slighter build with proportionately bigger heads than Earthlings and larger eyes, due to their sun not being as close or as bright as ours. Their skin is also smooth, pale and not at all porous, conducting electrical signals that they use to control almost everything on Arlk, this is why I need to wear faux Arlkskin gloves to control the ship.
 
Their technology is approximately 200,000 Earth years ahead of where we are right now. They power their ships and anything else that needs power with Gamma radiation, they long ago discovered a method of using Gamma radiation for power. Gamma radiation is prevalent in the entire universe and is without cost. 
Highly dangerous but useful when controlled, Gamma rays have the smallest wavelengths and the most energy of any wave in the electromagnetic spectrum. 
In space many strange things happen, including bursts of Gamma rays that speed up faster than light, going superluminal and can cause time-reversibility. We will not talk about that now.
 
The Arlkanians were responsible for building the pyramids, their Gamma ray powered machines make it possible not only to super accurately cut building blocks but they can also move them without effort, as easily as we would build a pyramid out of toy wooden blocks. 
Picture a 3-dimensional game where you can pick up a huge stone image with your Arlkskin gloves and place it accurately in another place, as you move the stone in the game, a drone, with a slight humming sound effortlessly moves the stone in the real world. Powered by Gamma rays, the drone can move anywhere through space-time and without touching, it can carve an accurate block from stone and place it in the correct position for the build. 
The pyramids were computer designed by the Arlkanians and built using these pre-programmed building drones.
 
The Arlkanians befriended many of the early generations of our ancestors, often assisting in building very difficult structures for them, the pyramids being a good example, the pyramid of Giza was the first one built. A reference for navigation for the Arlkanians, the location of the pyramid is 29.972458N, it is also the speed of light expressed in contemporary metric system, 299,792,458 meters per second. In addition, it is located at the centre of the land mass of the earth. 
The main chamber has a descending passage leading to it that aligned directly with the north pole star Alpha Draconis in circa 2170-2144, that’s about 4,000 years ago. A descending passage to the main chamber on the Southern side pointed to the star Al Nitak, (Zeta Orionis), in the constellation Orion.  
These passages were important for the capture of Gamma rays and directing them to the main chamber, where the rays were absorbed and amplified by the Gamma network transceiver housed in a huge granite container. (We always assumed that this was king Khufu’s coffer, which incidentally was never used by the king!), the construction of the granite container was not possible with the tools available at the time and has remained until now, one of the biggest Giza mysteries.
 
The concave curvature of the limestone faces of the Giza pyramid, the only pyramid to have this feature, exactly matches the radius of the earth, these were used to reflect and transmit Gamma ray power. 
The Arlkanian drones machined and highly polished the 15-ton limestone blocks to absolute accuracy, to within 1/100 of an inch. To create a perfect antenna, the very top of the pyramid had a capping of gold. The entire structure glinting like a jewel, would have been visible as a star from as far away as the moon, must have been an unbelievable sight! 
 
Mr. Tesla, one of our famous inventors, who invented the transmission of radio waves, always suspected that the pyramids had the ability to transmit electrical power, he was right, he got close to the theory of wireless power transmission. He carefully studied the Giza pyramid, then he built the famous Tesla Towers according to the laws inspired by his observations of the great pyramid, his attempt at transmitting electricity wirelessly did not work, but he was on the right track.
 
Many of the mysteries surrounding the pyramids are now easily explained, the 20-ton entrance door that could only be opened from inside the pyramid and moved effortlessly on its hinges and more, much more. 
Now that the Arlkanians have made themselves known to us, much of the speculation of UFO’s and aliens is confirmed as truth. Many of the thousands of sightings over the years can now be believed and no longer scoffed at.
 
Stonehenge was built to help the early Brittons mark the seasonal changes, the Summer Equinox and Solstice important days to note, time to reap and sow their crops. The Arlkanians still wear the Earth uniforms that they wore thousands of years ago, white robe-like attire with pointed hoods, for protection from our sun and to conceal their gravity-assist body-bracing, for coping with our stronger gravity, about 1/3 more than they’re used to on planet Arlk. The Druids continue to wear similar clothing during festivals at Stonehenge. 
 
There are many other structures around our planet that have mystified us for many years, that the Arlkanians built or helped to build with their highly advanced drones.
 
Truly amazing is the speed at which our civilization is catching on to Arlkanian technology, we are already installing Gammaretons (the small but powerful Gamma-power units now available to us) in a replacement program in some of our vehicles , aircraft and ships, learning to control the new units is taking some getting used to, no longer do we have accelerator pedals or throttle controls or steering wheels. 
Using the 3D controller requires new skills and a fair amount of practice, moving your vehicle to a new point in space-time is not the same as driving down the road. It will take us a good few years before the new techniques can be mastered by everyone, this is probably one of the reasons that the Arlkanians are being cautious about the speed and the context in which the Gammareton replacement process takes place. 
Another reason for their caution is the concern that this technology would be used in warfare. 
The Arlkanians are a totally peaceful race and do not understand why we continue to wage war on each other.
 
It is amazing to sit in your car with the Gammareton installed, move the image of your car to an empty parking space at the store, visible in real time on your 3D controller with your snugly fitting Arlkskin gloves, a moment after you release the 3D model of the car, and you initiate… blink! You are there! How does that work? The Arlkanian technical advancement would take us another two or three thousand years or longer to catch up!
 
The Arlkanians have offered to help rebuild many of our towns and villages that have been destroyed by natural disasters. We could of course build amazing structures like the awesome buildings on Arlk, massive structures of intricate and interesting artistic design, using their drone technology, and their amazing mortar mixture. 
Mortar that they used in the great pyramid of Giza, has been analysed, and its chemical composition is known, but we were never able to reproduce it, it is stronger than the stone and is still holding up today. 
They have at least agreed to assist us with making this mysterious mortar which will be of tremendous help in our construction industry. 
They are reluctant to allow us Earthlings to use their drones, once again they would not want to see this technology used in combat. 
 
For some reason, apart from the movie ET, we have automatically always assumed that aliens would come and want to take over our world, sewing destruction wherever they went and destroying us as a species along with it. 
As the warring civilization that we are, if you could call it civilized to be at constant conflict with each other, fighting over the possession of land, wealth, disagreement with religion, race, and culture. 
We find it refreshing and pleasing  that the only aliens to visit our planet from afar have always come here in peace and with a desire to help us as a species.
 
One can only hope that at some time in the future, we will realize the absolute folly of constant conflict and learn to live in peace and share the world. Perhaps by that time we will have advanced as much as the Arlkanians and perhaps we will develop our own advanced technology or by that time, the Arlkanians might be prepared to share everything with us.
 
Fortunately, because the Arlkanians are such a friendly, peaceful, and helpful race, Earth is happy to allow a higher export of Co2-12, of which we are now approaching a surplus, to help them with their dwindling supplies on Arlk, a truly intergalactic symbiotic relationship if ever there was one. 
 
Welcome Arlkanians!
 
Guiton Alonzo Blackburn
August 11, 2023
","August 11, 2023 12:38",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,cl9ptw,The Barrier,Ayndy Lou,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/cl9ptw/,/short-story/cl9ptw/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Speculative', 'Inspirational']",4 likes,"
Note: This story includes some violence, blood, death and a gun. However, I keep everything PG and am not overly graphic with it.Tal’k are an adaptable kind. Throughout the history of their species, they’ve had to adapt. From the frigid tunnels of ice planets to the arid deserts of planets perpetually covered by the light of their star; they have always found a way.It was Tal’k interplanetary code to reserve an adjustment period of six to twelve days before exiting a pod. However, Captain Takla and her small crew had not the time to ease into a new temperature, pressure or air quality. The on-ship life support systems had failed before they entered Earth’s atmosphere.It was a jarring shift in environment, coming out of a broken-down escape pod and into what humans call South America. The air was thick and moist. Sunlight permeated the Tal’ks scaley exterior, rejuvenating them with warmth after seven years in the cold of space with only an artificial heating system to sustain them. Captain Takla stood quietly, taking time to adjust to this lovely new world as her two crewmates; Sim and Korba stepped out of the escape pod.“What d’ya say now? We made it!”Korba, the crew’s communications officer leapt out onto the welcoming earth with her arms extended towards the sky.“We are ALIVE!” She turned her head to look back at Sim with a smug grin. “Didn’t I say we would survive?”“You also said we might get a welcoming committee…” Sim answered gruffly. He tossed a bag out onto the rich dirt and swung another two over his back.“Oh, we will. The people on this planet are very serious about outside threats.” Korba said. She took a deep breath of the wet, earthy air and smiled with her sharp toothy grin. “We just have to explain that we’re peaceful. They’ll understand. There are so many people on this planet who would love to meet us. We’ll learn from each other, share languages and technology… It’ll be great.”“I think we should stay on the down-low until we have a way off this earth…” Sim looked around at the vibrant world surrounding him hesitantly. “We found life. We have no obligation to do anything but observe it while we make repairs.”“What do you say, Cap?” Korba sighed, turning her gaze towards Takla.The captain looked at Korba, distracted. “I don’t know. I think.. I think that Sim is right. We should try not to interact with the people of this planet too much.” Her eyes grew sharper and she turned them on Sim.“But don’t forget that Korba is our student of alien culture. If she says we should make ourselves and our intentions known, then I think we should do that before the humans find us in their midst without an explanation.""Sim nodded. “Fair enough.”Korba stretched her arms out wide. “This star is amazing, you guys. Feel all that energy!”Sim shrugged at the scenery and shied away from the sun. “Bah, when will we get to visit another cold planet? All of this tropical pollen is clogging my airways.”Takla smiled. She started to say something when a deafening sound echoed through the forest.“What was that..?”Another boom sounded. Sim shifted his eyes to the hull of the escape pod, noticing a small dent in the metal shield. He ducked behind a metal wing and dug through one of the bags to find a weapon.“Find cover! We’re under attack!”Captain Takla ducked and flattened herself against the ground. “Korba!”Korba didn’t answer, one claw now pressed against her midsection. She fell to her knees and slumped down on her side.“Korba, respond!” Takla cried. “That’s an order!”“Shix!” Sim hissed. He lifted a spear launcher up onto his shoulder and peered into the bushes. “Where..?”Another bullet lodged itself into the ship wing. Sim ducked his head, but kept his eyes on the trees. He watched small flashes of light appear as bullets flew, and aimed for their origin. He released the arrow. A moment later he heard the pained cry of their attacker.Takla rolled across the ground and her back hit the metal shielding of their pod. She was too far from Sim to take cover under the wing alongside him, but tried to raise her head to get a view of things, regardless.“Throw me a smoke wad!”Sim looked up and nodded. Takla felt something sharp in her back and reached back for it, her claws closing around a cylindrical object. She felt a soothing warmth wash over her. All at once, the world seemed to be moving a lot slower than it had been. She saw her crew member’s face twist with ferocious anger as he lifted his weapon at the last moment. He pointed it at her. No, behind her.Smoke filled the air, clouding her already blurry vision. Every hair on her body stung with the sharp scent of fire. Sim shouted the last thing Captain Takla heard before the world went dark and silent;“Release her!”***Remington Gardner had thought he would be well remembered one day. He was a man of Firsts. The first to implement energy-capture roadways in a major city. The first Green Party President. The first to test an artificial carbon recycler in a home setting. (That particular test was an unsuccessful mess. He had to admit to himself that not all of his firsts were great feats of progress… but reminded himself that anyone who wanted to change the world was going to fail every now and then.)As the newly inaugurated seventieth president of the United States, he’d resolved himself with enacting real positive change in the four years ahead. With a background in environmental science and years of innovation in sustainable construction and urban development, he had been prepared to do so.It now seemed that he might end up remembered as another noted figure who’d done nothing in the grand scheme of things. Another watcher who stood by as the world ended. An hour ago he drank coffee with his wife and read the newspaper. Now he sat at a desk with his good friend and vice president Charlie Freed at his left. At his right, a woman who had introduced herself to him five minutes earlier as Diana Almond. She placed a heavy-cased laptop in front of him and told him to watch.His fingers traced the outline of a ballpoint pen sitting on his desk as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. On the screen in front of him played an amateur recording of these horrendous looking creatures… They stood upright reaching a height of six feet tall and resembled spiders, having four long legs and four spindly arms. Their heads were small in comparison to their long bodies, with six eyes moving in unison.But they wore clothing. Somewhere in the back of his head, beyond the disbelief and the fear, he noticed that they wore clothing.The camera spun around and stopped on a young boy who couldn’t have been older than nineteen, eyes wide and skin moist with sweat.“Mi nombre es Benjamín Thiago. Soy el primer hombre en ver el fin del mundo-”“Benjamín! Aquí! Aquí, tonto!”A deeper, gruffer voice interrupted him.The camera swung back around to focus on the alien creatures and their ship.“What.. was he saying?” Remi asked without looking away.Charlie frowned deeply as he answered.“It translates as; “My name is Benjamin Thiago… I am the first man to see the end of the world”.”Remington rubbed the side of the pen with his thumb, pressing his nail into the rubber around the middle.One of the aliens stood tall and threw its arms out. It opened its mouth, releasing a shrill clicking noise that shook the air.“Benjamin! Esto aquí!”The deeper voice said again. The camera turned and focused on a young man who looked about twenty-five, his shoulder-length hair dark and wet.“Verás?”He lifted a large gun into view and cracked a genuine smile, despite the wide eyes and sweat plastering his hair to his skin.“Puede que seas el primero en ver a los monstruos, pero yo nos rescataré de ellos!”He positioned the gun and looked through the scope. A moment later, he took the shot.The camera swung once more. One creature, hit, stood silent for a moment before it fell to the ground.The others were buzzing and clicking now, making noise with something other than their mouths. Another shot rang out. Then another.“Dónde están, Ben?!” The man shouted.“No poder ver!” The boy answered, franticly. “No poder!”Something long and sharp shot through the air, making an ark across the screen before the young cameraman even reacted. A deep, pained cry from the shooter pierced the air.“Esteban?!”The camera swung, shaking up and down now as Benjamin ran closer.“Esteban!”The man now identified as Esteban lay on the ground, blood seeping into his shirt and the ground beneath him. An arrow fashioned of wood stood planted in his chest.“Esteban, no te mueras!” Benjamin’s voice cracked as he cried.“Respira! Háblame!”The camera hung from his neck, only capturing the ground and pieces of arms and legs when they happened to come into focus amidst the turmoil.Charlie reached out and closed the video player with two clicks. The three were silent for a long moment.“What happened to the boy…?” Remington asked, his voice absent of inflection, monotone. He didn’t look up from the computer screen.“Members of my branch found him this morning and confiscated this video.” Diana answered. “Our online division has already taken it down from a hundred websites… but we’re afraid he also shared it in multiple physical copies.” Her thin lips shifted into a frown. “It’s already out there and we don’t know who’s seen it.”“So what happened to the.. the..” Remi lifted a hand to aid his words, motioning at the screen.“Our team captured one of the aliens on site. The Argentine government got their ship and the one Benjamin’s brother shot. The third creature is missing. We haven’t been able to locate it.”Remington looked at Diana with his eyes wide and his mouth open, grasping for words. “They have to.. shut down the parks. They’ve got to capture that thing as soon as possible.”“I’m sure they’ve got that covered.” Diana lifted one eyebrow. “The reason we’re involving you, is because people know about it now. With all these physical copies of that video floating around and more being made, we can’t track them all down.”“So… what is it you want me to do, if you don’t want me to handle this?” He tilted his head at her with incredulity.She stood, closing the lid on the computer and sliding it back into its case.“Come up with a good lie for me.” Diana gave him a hard pat on the back and turned away. Her heels clicked as she walked towards the door.“I want to see it.”Remington wasn’t certain that those words had actually came out of his mouth.Diana turned her head and looked back at him over her shoulder. “You want to see what?”“The creature. The one we have in captivity.” He answered. “I want to see it.”She paused quietly for a moment then looked on. “I suppose I can arrange that.”***Remington had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he’d gotten into a car with dark windows at the White House and an hour or more later, he got out of it in a parking garage filled with cars that looked identical to the one that had brought him there.Miss Almond stepped out of the car and handed him a pair of glasses.“Put these on.”“What do they do?” He asked, inspecting the glasses.“They protect curious eyes from dangerous secrets.” She walked on and beckoned him to follow.Remington put the glasses on, seeing no difference.“How does it work?”“Sir…” Diana only shook her head.A deep gurgling sound exploded from his left. Remi stopped and turned towards the sound - but found… nothing other than a grey concrete wall. He felt his heart racing in his chest and the hair on his neck stood on end as they walked on.Eventually they reached a door. Diana pulled him inside and the door shut itself behind them.“You can take them off, now.”He pulled the glasses off and startled at the sight. Where there had been nothing, now stood a six-foot tall creature. He’d known they were spider-like from the video, but he now saw that the alien’s entire body was covered in small, prickly hairs. Its upper body was longer than that of a spider’s, with a neck and head that rested on top. It had two smaller pedipalp-like arms tracing the edge of its jaw. The face was curved towards the center. All six of the creatures eyes seemed to be focused on him, much in the same way he was focusing on It.The creature buzzed and walked up to the bars of the enclosure cautiously. It reached into the pocket of the jacket it wore and pulled out something small. Remington stepped closer to see.It opened its claw flat to reveal a piece of silk in the shape of an octagon. The alien slowly lifted another claw and traced lines within the shape.“I think It’s trying to say something.” Remi gasped in wonder. He looked the alien over once again, a little less afraid.. and a little more afraid.“Who’s going to translate?” Diana crossed her arms and shook her head, fitting the alien with a stone cold gaze. “We don’t know how their brains work, or if they even understand words in the same way we do.”“But maybe someone could find out…” Remi looked into the alien’s eyes, gold and green clashing like molten lava over an ocean. “Can you understand me…?”The alien only looked back at him with her mesmerizing eyes. She clicked a soft series of clicks and traced the octagon once more.“She’s sad.” He nodded.“Rude. It might be a He.” Diana scoffed and smiled, the closest she’d come to any sort of laughter.Remi shrunk into his shoulders and offered the creature an apology. “Sorry.”“So, do you know what you’re going to tell the press?” Diana eyed him carefully… dangerously.“No.” He answered plainly, eyes still on the creature in front of them. “But I’ll figure something out.”“The world isn’t ready for something like this.” She warned.“Of course not. I know I can’t tell them the truth.” He pursed his lips tightly. “I couldn’t.”Diana looked down at her watch and placed her hand on the wall. At her touch, the door lifted itself open.“It’s time.”Remington looked at the alien for one last long moment, then began to step away.“Bzzrp.”He looked back. Reaching through the bars with the tip of its claw, the alien held the small piece of silk out to him. Quickly, he took it and walked away, tucking the cloth into the top of his pants with one hand as he donned his dark glasses with the other.Captain Takla watched the stone wall slide back into place as the humans left. She hoped the one with blue eyes would return. Maybe if any of those humans Korba once spoke so well of made something of her interplanetary emblem, they would attempt communication with her. If they spoke to her, maybe she could find Sim and get off this planet.She had no one to talk to and nothing to do but think, so she thought to herself. As the hours went by, she tired of ruminating over the memories of the last three days and found herself composing a poem to the tune of a traditional Tal’k song instead. She vibrated her two mandibular claws softly.“I cannot speakMy claws may as well be fashioned of stone.Your words are lost on me.I understand bits and pieces, but not enough.Without the ability to communicate, will we die?Or will we have the patience to seek understanding?”Thanks for reading! Down here I’ve included Spanish/English Translations for the dialogue between Esteban and Benjamin:“Mi nombre es Benjamín Thiago. Soy el primer hombre en ver el fin del mundo-”“My name is Benjamin Thiago… I am the first man to see the end of the world.”“Benjamín! Aquí! Aquí, tonto!”“Benjamin! Here! Here, stupid!/fool!”“Benjamin! Esto aquí!”“Benjamin! Over here!”“Verás?”“See?”“Puede que seas el primero en ver a los monstruos, pero yo nos rescataré de ellos!”“You may be the first to see the monsters, but I will rescue us from them!”“Dónde están, Ben?!”“Where are they, Ben?!”“No poder ver! No poder!”“I can’t see! I can’t!”“Esteban, no te mueras!”“Esteban, don’t die!”“Respira! Háblame!”“Breath! Speak to me!”
","August 11, 2023 19:50",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,ukdi1u,Truth is the Alien,Beamie Bee,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ukdi1u/,/short-story/ukdi1u/,Science Fiction,0,"['Suspense', 'Speculative', 'Mystery']",4 likes,"
It’s  the Friday leading up to a long weekend. 
 
Colby lets off a heavy sigh as she enters the elevators of her work building. It has been a long shift of making marketing calls to strangers trying to convince them to purchase home security systems.
 
“I hate my life! I need to leave this job!” she exclaims to herself with an inside voice. 
 
As the elevator door slowly closes and her head falls lazily over her neck, the doors are jammed open by Jade’s umbrella.
 
Colby! Happy Friday! Long day? An over-enthused Jade asks as she lets off a wide dimple-filled smile.
 
Colby: (letting out a sigh) Oh, hey, Jade. Yeah, you could say that! 
Were you able to get the targeted customers?. Asked Colby.
 
Yes! And then some! Exclaimed Jade as she did a hair whip. 
 
Now Jade was a vivacious and dynamic woman who possessed a unique and captivating flair. She was very popular on the call centre floor. From the moment she enters a room, her presence is undeniable, drawing attention like a magnet. Her lustrous, chestnut hair cascades down her shoulders in a cascade of waves. As Jade engages in conversation, her hair becomes an extension of her expressions. Each gesture is accompanied by a strategic flick of her hair, an artful punctuation that adds emphasis to her words. It's as if her hair dances to the rhythm of her conversation, swaying and swirling like a mesmerizing performance.
 
Colby didn’t have such presence and she gleamed with envy making the elevator ride seem longer than it was. Her foot tapping impatiently on the floor, a rhythmic beat that mirrors her eagerness to escape the elevator's confines. Her fingers drum lightly against the polished steel railing, a subtle reflection of her anticipation. 
 
There is a quick second of uncomfortable silence in the elevator as Colby counts down the number of floors as the elevator descends.
 
Hey! said Jade, breaking the silence.
 
Do you want to grab coffee this weekend? I feel like we never see each other outside of work said Jade.
 
That would be nice, but this is my birthday weekend, and I am still trying to figure out how to celebrate it. Maybe can plan for the following week? Muttered Colby
 
Oh nice! Happy Early birthday!. I hope you have fun whatever you decide. Sounds good. Yeah, I'm thinking of going to my parents cottage. Need a little break from the daily grind! I was planning to hang out with some friends and maybe bake some cake on Sunday. Do you have Instagram? I will add you and can send you messages on there.
 
Thanks! Oh sure. My Instagram handle is @colbythecobble909.
Cool! Mine is @jajajajade675. I will add you said Jade.
 
The elevator finally opens in what seems like eternity to Colby and they walk towards the exit and exchange their goodbyes. 
 
Colby watches as Jade walks away gracefully, each stride taking her farther away into the darkness.
 
On her way to home, she walks by a homeless guy who sets off on a rant!
""Ya know,"" he began, his gravelly voice cutting through the night buzz, ""I once read this book, said aliens been watching' us for centuries. Up there in the sky, way beyond where our eyes can reach.""
 
We’re not alone” he said 
 
Their eyes meet and his eyes reflected a life marked by hardship and solitude. Colby gives a short and simple smile and keeps walking briskly.
 
Colby finally makes it home. As the front door eased open, she steps into the warm embrace of her home. She sighed, her anticipation of being in her sanctuary palpable.
 
Hello? Honey? I’m home!
Silence in return.
She looks to the living room, and it looked like a life-sized racoon has invaded the house. The remnants of an array of snacks – chip bags, crumpled candy wrappers, and a half-empty soda can – littered the coffee table.
 
She walks down to the basement which presented an unexpected scene. 
 
There, sprawled comfortably on the couch, sat her husband, Boris. More remnants of snacks surround his feet –The soft glow of a video game screen bathed him in a gentle blue light. Colby’ gaze moved from the screen to the TV where a program, clearly of an explicit pornographic nature, played out momentarily before she swiftly looked away, her heart sank as she caught a glimpse of the content that had absorbed her husband's attention.
 
Of course not! It can’t be the disgusting 32-year-old life sized racoon that has been watching porn and playing video games for hours while she was at work. It is her amazing husband, Boris.
 
Boris, Colby’s amazing husband - This is what everyone says and thinks. 
 
As she took in the scene before her, a complex mix of emotions stirred within her. Disappointment, frustration, and a tinge of hurt mingled with her relief of being home. The image before her was a reminder of the divergence between her honest expectations and the reality that had unfolded. A reminder of how deeply unhappy she was with this choice of a partner. How much of a fool was she for marrying him. What possessed her into thinking he was the one?
 
Steeling herself, Colby cleared her throat, and Boris finally glanced up, blinking as if re-entering the real world.
 
""Hey,"" he finally managed, a guilty and embarrassed feel tugging at his lips.
""Hey,"" Colby replied, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and suppressed emotions. She fought to keep her tone even, to bridge the gap that seemed to have grown between them.
 
How was your shift? He asked
Colby: (letting out another heavy sigh) It wasn’t bad.
Soooo, I was thinking for my birthday that we should go to the mountains and canoe on the lake. I need some fresh air and a little escape.
Boris: Oh, yea sure. It should be nice out. 
Colby: Ok! I am going to have a shower and call it a day.
Boris: Sure. I will be right up.
 
An hour passes, Colby is tucked in bed with Boris still stuck in the basement. It seemed to be the norm now with her sleeping alone. She browses through Instagram and looks at Jade's photos. A bittersweet cocktail of fascination and envy stirring within her. Jade’s photos painted a seemingly flawless tapestry of a life that sparkled with glamour and adventure. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the seemingly effortless way Jade navigated the world, while Colby's own path felt like a series of daily struggles. 
 
She “likes” a few photos and gazes out of the bedroom window, lost in thought. 
 
------------------------------------------------------------
The long weekend is over. Its another day at the telemarketing office
 
Jade: Hey Colby! How was your weekend?. Did you enjoy your birthday?
Colby: Oh HI Jade! Yes it was nice! My husband took me to Lake Louise and we ended up canoeing on Moraine lake. It was so beautiful. We dinned at that boutique hotel by Hotel Arts and it was such a relaxing time. How about you?
 
Jade: Aww that’s so sweet and amazing! I am glad to hear. Yea, I ended up baking some cake and hanging out with friends.
Colby: Oh nice! I saw that on your Instagram and liked a couple of your photos having a great time with friends. You are so lucky to have such great friends.
Jade: Oh really? Thanks! I didn’t see any likes from you though?
Colby : Oh that’s odd, I liked the ones of your pecan pie bakes and one of you on the balcony in Paris and another with some friends in a club. 
Jade: Oh yea? Cool. Thanks. OK! Chat later!. I got to go back to work now.
 
As Colby settles into her desk, a few short mins past, Jade returns with a cloud of disappointment hanging heavy in the air, casting a subtle shadow over what had initially been a lighthearted atmosphere. Her steps were measured, her expression a delicate balance of concern, anger and vulnerability.
 
Jade : Hey! You don’t have to be so hateful with your comments on my photos?
Colby : What? Hateful? What are you talking about?
 
Jade: Well, first of all, you didn’t like any of my photos. Secondly, you commented on my balcony photo in Paris saying “I wish she could fall off that balcony and that hair of hers I hope it can be burnt off in a fire. She thinks she's so perfect and better than everyone”.
 
Colby (stammering in shock) : What? I – I – I Never..
Just before Colby could finish her comment.
 
Jade (voiced raised in Anger): Just because you aren’t happy with your husband shouldn’t mean you should be hateful to me?
Colby (in utter shock ): What is going on? Where is all this coming from?
Jade: Well I can see the recent post on your Instagram where your husband is kissing you cheek. Your post says?
“What a crap of a birthday!
Today! I am reminded of my unhappy life and my husband who the rock that weighs my life down.
He has stolen so much time, life and joy from me.
I cannot wait to leave his pathetic ass.
I cannot wait for the next trip around the sun when I can finally have the chance to meet the love of my life and fix this colossal mistake, I have made by marrying this guy.”
 
Colby (panting in horror and disbelieve as her finger trembled while she scrolls down her phone).
Her eyes bulge in disbelief as she sees that the initial message attached to the photo reading "" The best birthday ever! Thanks to my rock of a husband who makes me glow brighter everyday"",  has been changed.
She tries frantically to delete the post, but it doesn’t delete.
She goes to Jades photo and sees the hateful comment posted. 
 
Colby (her voice breaking in shock) : OMG Jade, I think my account was hacked into! I would never say that, and I am so sorry.
 
Jade: Those were mean comments! and walks away.
Colby: I swear it wasn’t me.
 
Colby tries to “relike” the photo and her action is Undone. A big gulp wrestled down her throat. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue seemingly glued to the roof of her mouth. She tries again and as if someone else was on the account simultaneously Undoing her actions.
In fear, she mutters: Maybe indeed “We’re not alone”?
 
She returns to the photo of Jade where she is posing with her rich locks and notices that the post message reads something different. 
 
""If they only knew that I suffer from Alopecia and have had this condition for the past 15 years of my life. If only they knew how I cannot wait to come back home; be by myself and let my scalp breath as I deal with the rashes that has formed from wearing this wig for hours. If only they knew what I would give to have natural hair fibres coming from my scalp (sad face emoji followed by a teary-eyed emoji)""
 
Colby’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief; her mouth slightly agape as her mind struggled to process the shocking revelation before her. The words that she read seemed to hang in the air like an unexpected thunderclap, reverberating through her mind and leaving her momentarily stunned. Her heart raced, its rhythmic beat quickening as a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Time seemed to slow down, the world around her fading into a blur as her focus narrowed on the astonishing information that had just shattered her sense of reality. The snapshots of Jades life, while undoubtedly captivating, were only a fraction of the story.
 
Colby gasps… MY God! They are here! “We’re not alone” with fear in her voice.
 
Suddenly a loud scream is heard from Jade. Chaos ensues in the building with several people reaching for their phones.
 
In the background there is an announcement on the floor TV with a state of emergency breaking news from the President.
“Good morning citizens of the world.
We have had premonition about this day coming for a while and
 
It is finally upon us.
The Alien we seek is not in physical form.
It doesn’t attain a body or shape or presence.
It is amongst us, and it sees and knows our every move and being.
Its almost as if it were US.
The secretive and real side of us that we don’t want the world to know.
An Alien has been known to us globally to be a foreigner, especially one who is not a naturalized citizen of the country where they are living. It also known to be something differing in nature or character typically to the point of incompatibility.
 
But, what if over all these decades with our obsession and dependence on technology and the superficiality of life, the TRUTH has become Alien to us.
 
Yes! The ""Truth"" is the Alien.
We mask our lives for the world to see us in a certain way and light.
We mask our TRUE feelings and our emotions to the point where we assume a whole and new different personality.
The Alien amongst us is a mirror of ourselves. It shares with the world who we truly are.
 
It cancels out the lies we share or present and reveals the innermost core of who we are.
For decades and centuries, we have adopted the ability to create a façade, deceive others, so we can be accepted. We have hidden behind screens and bullied, predated over innocent young children, murdered, betrayed, and stolen. But now, we have no where to hide.
If you cannot accept who you are and share this with the world, I am afraid that with the presence of our new digital visitors, you won’t be able to survive here for long.
I suggest you let go of all you have known to be the life of lies and deceit and we accept this new beginning.
 
We’re not alone!
We’re not alone! as his voice breaks and fades into the background”
 
 
 
 
 
","August 12, 2023 02:02",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,v9dley,Soup for Aliens,Sav Lightwood,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/v9dley/,/short-story/v9dley/,Science Fiction,0,"['Thriller', 'Science Fiction']",3 likes,"
Leader’s posture stiffened as he assessed the situation. 
 
“The rendezvous point… It’s miles away.” Magician reported, fiddling with the navigator.
 
Low on energy. Middling fuel. There was no way they could take on the throng on government agents at their tail without tapping into their more forbidden weapons.
 
As if sensing the hesitation, Berserker brandished his array of palm-sized explosives.
 
“We are not levelling the damn city, Berserker.”
 
Berserker spat, his acidic mucus literally melting part of the pavement. “It’s self-defence.”
 
“It’s a last resort.” Leader groaned. “We need to find cover.”
 
“Well if you’ve got a nicer spot than this, Leader, we’d be so very happy to oblige.”
 
Huddled amidst the rotting stench of whichever street corridor they found themselves in, the trio’s eyes darted nervously at every rustle of movement. 
 
Above them, the ominous whirr of a helicopter blades grew louder. A sweeping beam of harsh light travelled across the suburb, flashing a searing eye at every speck of suspicion.
 
Leader’s hands touched the mouldy brick wall. His ravenous heartbeat, the blood rushing through his veins, louder than the pipes behind them. It was risky. He had no idea what was on the other side. But anything really, was better than being a sitting target.
 
“This building is as good as any.” Leader grunted. He was nervous, but for the head-strong Berserker and especially nervous, young Magician, he masked himself with a steely confidence.
 
“Let’s phase in.”
 
***
 
Quaint. Austere. A little dusty sure, but strikingly well-loved. The background murmur of a box television droned with a monotonous news reporter, adding to the well-lived ambience. The house was illuminated by a warm, cottage-like grow by virtue of an artificial fireplace, chic wooden flooring and archaic, out-of-fashion furniture. It was a paradox, like a fairy’s secret home in the middle of a boring, repeatable suburb - a massive far cry from the steaming heap of rubbish they were at only moments ago.
 
Leader, amidst the comfort, checked his watch to make sure they hadn’t inadvertently phased through the corridors of time.
 
“What’s that smell?” Magician perked up, lifting his still-organic nose towards true north. 
 
Leader switched on his olfactory sensors.
 
Garlic! What a delicacy! A profound spark to the senses in all its controlled, fiery vigour. He was never able to afford such a rare spice back at home, with garlic-flavoured dishes being exclusive to special events like birthdays, weddings, and anniversaries. Whoever this house belonged to must be celebrating an impeccable occasion.
 
Like bees to nectar, Magician and Leader trailed towards its scrumptious source, finding themselves in what had to be a miniature factory. Celery, carrots, mushrooms, and other unnameable alien oddities sprawled neatly across the marble countertop. Ginger bulbs and sacks of onion hung from overhead hooks, alongside punnets of flowering leaves and blossomed petals in what seemed to be a garden for hamsters. The gentle, ever-present whirr of the exhaust filled the air, harmonising with the rhythmic pops and bubbles emanating from the guarded steel pot.
 
Before they could take a peek, they were interrupted by an ear-splitting screech.
 
“Stay back, human!”
 
Leader dashed back to the living room to find Berserker, horrified but prepared, aiming a glowing freeze-ray towards a human woman.
 
It was a hilariously dramatic sight, really, given that Berserker was a hulking, two-metre tall combat unit with mountainous protruding muscles and mechanical eyes which shone red with ardent danger; while she was a meagre, frizzly haired grandmother who probably couldn’t kill a fly if she tried. A floral print sweater was her armour of choice. Hello Kitty slippers presumably being her weapon.
 
“I’ll kill you where you stand!” Berserker hissed, spit splattering across the carpet.
 
Behind her thick-rimmed spectacles, the woman’s gaze seemed distant. Rather, it seemed indifferent, as if she hadn’t quite realised the terrifying situation she was in. She licked her lips, as if contemplating about a snack, before lighting up in pleasant recognition.
 
“Oh my, a visitor! What a lovely surprise.” She exclaimed, a warm smile slipping onto her thin, chapped lips.
 
Berserker refused to lower his gun - not in the name of self-defence, but because he was literally paralysed by fear. Just something that came with having an impeccable instinct for danger.
 
“Sit down, please sit down!”
 
Leader stepped out of the shadows, feeling as if he had to address the situation before Berserker had an opportune slip of the finger.
 
“There’s more of you! Oh that’s so, so lovely. Please take a seat! Make yourself at home!”
 
“Ma’am, I don’t think you understand the gravity of…”
 
“I was making soup today but I’m afraid I’ve made too much!” She interrupted without a sliver of trepidation. “But with three big strong boys like you, I think we might just do it.”
 
The shared glance between them was brief, but heavy with the weight of unsaid deliberations. Berserker had a bad feeling about it. Magician was filled with uncertainty. Leader however, thought with a contemplative depth. They needed time to regroup - to fuel up their energy reserves, recharge their battle chips, and just have a general wink of sleep before they proceeded with their mission. It was inefficient to stay, but far too risky to explore the outside, especially with the humans on such high alert. 
 
Drawing upon his namesake, Leader took full responsibility for the fate of his comrades. He didn’t like the situation either, but it was what his team needed.
 
“Stand down, men.” Leader said apprehensively, turning towards the overly optimistic grandmother. “I guess we’ll be having soup tonight.”
 
***
 
Leader had removed his taste indicators years ago. For a soldier, it was the least practical of the five senses. Sight, sound and touch were a given, and a sense of smell at least could be used to identify burning smoke or whiffs of poison. The ability to taste was a distraction. He got rid of it as soon as he adopted the Leader role.
 
However, teased by the exciting, childlike gulping from Magician and the aggressive, rabid munching noises that came from Berserker - he regretted not at least bringing a backup tongue.
 
It was funny, uplifting even, seeing his comrades’ fears and concerns shrivel away from a bowl of delicious soup.
 
He drank his out of formality. It tasted like salt water.
 
The old woman abstained from eating. Instead, she sat at the edge of the table, beneath the low-hanging chandelier, casting a spectral glow that emphasised her aged yet dignified features. She looked like a professor on a lectern, and upon closer inspection of the photographs and certificates that decorated the dining room, she very much could have been.
 
“Is that you?” Magician, already finishing his second bowl, pointed towards a photograph depicting a captivating, blonde-haired woman adorned in a white, origami-like dress. 
 
“Oh no, if only I was that beautiful.” She laughed, eyeing the picture with distant longing.
 
It couldn’t have been her, Leader thought to himself. The crispness, the colour grading, the noiseless details - this kind of photography was not readily available, at least for humans, during the old lady’s youth.
 
“Your daughter.”
 
“Indeed.”
 
The likeness was strikingly evident. While age had softened the old lady’s defined jawline, traces of its former strength still lingered, mirroring the contour in the younger woman’s face. Both possessed eyes with an a unique, almost enigmatic slant, and most tellingly, that same warm smile - a beacon of welcome that made even these three outerworldly visitors welcome on the mysterious planet Earth.
 
“Where is she now?” Magician asked.
 
Leader felt the pang of regret before the old lady even registered the question. As Magician’s words hung in the air - a shadow of grief flashed across her visage. A tightening of the left eye. An uncanny twist of the finger. A fleeting downturn of the lips. Lasting no longer than a heartbeat’s hiatus, the whisper of sorrow was ephemeral. Leader could only notice it due to his heightened, military-grade biosensors.
 
Magician and Berserker weren’t permitted that level of technology yet.
 
“Our condolences,” Leader said promptly, his allies stiffening at the realisation.
 
The old lady continued to smile the way that she did. Lovely. Inviting. Full of motherly warmth. Leader noticed now, just subtly, what he had missed earlier. The undertone of sadness, the sonorous hum of regret, the reverberating notes of affirmations left unsaid.
 
“How did she go?” Berserker asked, somehow completely deaf to the situation.
 
“Car accident. A hit and run.”
 
The gargantuan unit glanced up from his soup.
 
“Do you know who it is?”
 
Two sets of disapproving glances. One from the team lead; one from the inexperienced private, both falling beneath Berserker’s notice.
 
They expected some kind of negative reaction from the woman. A sharp inhale, a stab of rage, a scalding scowl - but instead, she smiled as she previously did, unfazed by his utter obtrusiveness. She seemed… at ease somehow, like a paper boat in a ripple-less pond, buoyant with eerie serenity.
 
“A drunk driver. Twenty-seven years old at the time.” She stated as if she were reciting the morning news.
 
Berserker surged to his feet, the stool he was perched on skidding cartoonishly across the floor.
 
“He must pay for his crimes.”
 
The old woman shrugged. “He served his sentence. Suspended license and fifteen years in prison.”
 
“That’s not enough.” Berserker growled with ardent venom. “He must compensate you with his life - if not eternal servitude.”
 
The old lady chuckled with an edge - like a blade being drawn from its sheath.
 
“Oh that’s not necessary.”
 
“You must take your vengeance.”
 
“I don’t need it anymore.”
 
Leader’s ears perked up.
 
“I might not look like it now, but I used to be a very hungry girl.” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. Her meek frame pivoted towards Berserker, eyes burning with an unfound intensity. “Anger clouded my thinking. Rage drove my decisions. Uncovering that man’s identity… was all I wanted to do.” Her ever-present smile remained. “And when I found who he was, where he was… I decided to put my work into action.” She paused, her neck twisting towards Leader at an uncomfortable angle. “It’s the only reason we know who it is today, and why I live here and not with my husband.”
 
The room shifted palpably. The mild chinking of the ceiling fan. The uneasy hum of the kitchen exhaust. The monotonous drone of the news broadcast from the opposite room, slowly gaining volume, as if trying to fill the now devoid space. All the sounds previously, which went under notice, now seemed so irreparably loud.
 
The sheer austerity of the household. The distinct lack of windows and natural lighting. The uncanny way she could navigate the space despite being almost legally blind. Discounting the soup, the house smelt like chlorine and antiseptic. The incongruous outside of the building and its overly calculated, specifically manicured interior design.
 
Leader should have noticed it the moment he entered the room. It felt like a museum exhibit.
 
He turned to Berserker, who again brimmed with wicked anticipation. His first instincts were right. That immediate gut reaction. Gun aimed. Finger on the trigger. While she might not pose an imminent threat to them, this woman was clear peril to human society.
 
As if on cue, underscoring their surreal upiphany, the shrill alert of an emergency broadcast erupted from the television-next-door.
 
“Citizens, please stay in your homes. If you see any of these three men, please call your local police department and report their whereabouts. Do not interact with them. Do not be seen by them. Citizens, I repeat, please stay in your homes. If you see any of these three men…”
 
The old lady squinted at the screen, its hazy static waves reflected on the edge on her unblinking retinas.
 
“Those pictures are terrible.” She remarked nonchalantly. “How are we supposed to recognise anyone with such blurry images?”
 
Leader’s jaw tightened. The pictures weren’t great, but the blurry outlines were unmistakably the three of them, captured by grainy street cameras during their ill-fated chase.
 
The state was in total lockdown. With every eye and ear on the lookout and government agents on maximum alert, venturing outside was akin to a death sentence. Leader probed at his bowl - oil pooling up to the surface, vegetables floating disconcertingly, like bodies in a pool.
 
Raising his gaze, he met the eyes of his brothers, seeing his anxiety and dread mirrored within them. Their predicament was clear: stepping out was tantamount to self-destruction, but remaining inside, in the company of this eerie hostess, was like being trapped in a mausoleum.
 
Magician was on edge. He was not accustomed to this. This was his first proper mission. Every twitch suggesting he might break down at any second, hang his coat and never return to the force. Berserker, on the other hand, reverted to his instinctual state. Beneath the table, Leader sensed Berserker’s thick fingers coiling around the freeze-ray. Armed. Lethal. Set to kill.
 
Leader inhaled. He wished they weren’t cornered into making such a decision, but such things came with having a role of accountability. Desperate times, desperate measures - self-defence as a last resort. With a heavy nod, he signalled his approval. What followed was swift and silent. A flash of blinding light, a gust of icy wind, as Berserker ensured their guardian angel a serene and instantaneous end.
","August 11, 2023 12:48",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,pfzyv6,The Road to Cumming,Tsvi Jolles,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/pfzyv6/,/short-story/pfzyv6/,Science Fiction,0,"['Science Fiction', 'Fiction', 'Drama']",3 likes,"
The day had dawned in Hiawassee with a palpable excitement after the federal government's shocking announcement of extraterrestrial life. Its proximity to Cumming, GA, where non-human biological findings had been made near a Walmart, had set the town abuzz with fervent speculation. 
	The familiar roar of a Ford Mustang pulled up outside Lisa's home. Amidst the excitement of alien discoveries the sound of the Mustang was a grounding reminder. It symbolized that, despite the extraordinary revelations, human connections and the daily routines of ordinary lives were carrying on as usual. 
	Benjamin emerged from the car, leaning a hand on the open door. He tipped his worn Stetson hat, looking at Lisa with eyes heavy from the morning's happenings. ""Mornin', Lisa,"" he drawled.
	""Benjamin,"" she greeted back, smiling wide but with a touch of concern in her eyes. ""How y'all doin' today?"" She was wearing a simple floral sundress that swayed gently with her movement, and her worn but comfortable sandals made a crunching sound on the gravel as she took a step closer. 
	His lips curled into a faint smile, his shoulders relaxing just a touch. ""Good to see y'all again,"" he replied, shutting the car door with a soft thud, the faint memory of their single past meeting lingering in the air like a distant melody.
	""So… where do y'all want to go?"" Lisa asked, her voice dancing with curiosity.
	""What did y'have in mind?"" he replied, raising an eyebrow.
	""There's a nice café down the road. I used to go there with… well, I met your daddy once over there.""
	""Is that the famous Mellow Mist Coffee y'told me 'bout?"" he asked, his eyes wide with interest.
	""I don't rightly recall tellin' y'about that place, but yes,"" Lisa confirmed, appearing slightly surprised.
	""Are we takin' your car or mine?"" he asked, tilting his head.
	""Is that your daddy's Mustang?"" she inquired, nodding towards the shiny vehicle.
	""Can't be any other car,"" he said with a hint of pride.
	""No, it can't,"" Lisa murmured, her voice soft as silk.
	They got into the car, a feeling washing over her like something out of a dream. She was again sitting in that posh Mustang, with its sleek leather seats and chrome accents. Dials and gauges spoke of power and speed, and the scent of fresh leather mingled with a faint trace of motor oil. It felt as if no time had passed since she last sat in one of those seats—a time that ended tragically for the car and nearly for her and Benjamin's dad. Everything had turned out okay, except for the financial loss. A sense of discomfort lingered in her, but she tried to shake it off, focusing on the road outside..
	The café was filled with its regular patrons, including the owners Jeff and Marie, who once let Lisa work there for an evening. That night, she'd met George Harwell, Benjamin's father, and ended up sitting with him at his table, talking about art instead of taking care of café chores. They'd let her off for being too friendly to the customers, and now she came as a guest for the first time since. She wondered if the couple remembered her.
	""Lisa,"" Jeff exclaimed the minute she walked in with Benjamin. ""Welcome back!""
	His wife Marie raised her eyes, eyeing Lisa. She muttered something to her husband that Lisa couldn't understand, but to her ears, it sounded like: ""There she is again.""
	Finding a booth, they were quickly approached by a waitress named Jamie. Her appearance was an intriguing blend of religious and rebellious. Her face was innocent and pure, framed by neatly combed hair that she had tucked behind her ears, revealing small cross earrings.
	""What can I have for y'all on such a special mornin'?"" she asked, her voice sweet but with an underlying tone of self-assurance that hinted at a strong, independent spirit.
	""I guess an extraterrestrial omelette,"" Benjamin said, not able to conceal the smile on his face.
	He looked at Lisa who was smiling too, but the waitress Jamie kept a more formal expression on her face. ""Apparently we don't have that just yet,"" she replied, ""but we have our special New Mediterranean breakfast with scrambled eggs, cheese, a bowl of salad, vegetables in tahini sauce, and some nice oranges on the side. It's a great meal, to be honest.""
	""Sounds like a nice kosher meal to me,"" Lisa said, adding, ""I think I'll take it."" Benjamin quickly joined her order and said he'd have the Mediterranean breakfast too.
	Just then, they heard an elderly man who was sitting at a nearby table joining their conversation. ""That Mediterranean diet is known to be very healthy,"" he chimed in, ""and ever since I heard about them serving it at this café, I've been a steady guest. When you're 80 years old, you know that every moment counts and is precious, and you want to keep being healthy. That's for sure.""
	Lisa was struck by the resemblance of the man's voice to Benjamin's father's voice. It was that same sound which had once made her feel so safe and filled her with confidence - Georgia's resonant, grounding voice.
	She was struck again two minutes later when Jamie came back with their plates. ""How did you make it so quick?"" Lisa gasped. 
	Jamie answered, ""Y'all are lucky we have Jamal inside. He's the quickest chef I've ever seen, and I've been serving in a couple of restaurants before I came to work this one."" She put the plates in front of Benjamin and Lisa and added, ""I like Jeff and Marie, and I like how they believe in Jesus, talkin' about Him all the time. Makes me feel at home, you know?""
	They started to eat, and Benjamin seemed to get lost with a tiny splash of sauce, which sparkled on his shirt, but all the same, he was quick to mention that he liked the taste. 
	Then they talked about the extraterrestrial news because everyone was talking about it, even at the café. Except for the old man, who was fully concentrated on his meal, not having time to think about another form of life. He was fully immersed in his life and the years that he was still given. At some point, the old man got a phone call, and Lisa could hear that he was talking distinctly about a life insurance issue. She wondered, whispering to Benjamin, if life insurance was still available to people this man's age. Benjamin said that he might be a life insurance agent or more reasonably a retiree, or maybe he was just giving advice to someone in his family. Lisa said that he seemed too excited talking about it to be merely giving advice, but maybe that was just so.
	The more they sat there, the more Lisa grew comfortable. She didn't have the urge to talk about the car and what happened to it, or even to mention Benjamin's father at all, even though it was clear he was the direct cause for their meeting as well as choosing that place. Still, she started to feel how freedom was taking over her, freedom from speaking about their most shared idea, and she gravitated into starting to talk about other things, things that had to do only with her, only with Benjamin, or only with their very fresh acquaintance.
	She gently asked about Benjamin's family, her eyes soft with genuine interest. He told her about his boys, Ethan and Jonah. The first had dreams of becoming a writer, while the second was head over heels in love with a new girl called Julianne. Then, Lisa found herself asking about his wife, her eyes drifting to his bare finger, wondering why he didn't wear a ring. ""I never wore it, neither did she,"" he said. He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then added, ""We've just separated, actually. She decided to go to Paris and live there."" The words hung in the air, a sudden weight to them, but they were spoken with a calm assurance, as if he had come to terms with this new chapter of his life.
	""So no ring,"" she repeated, her eyes fixed on his hand. Then she watched, her heart catching in her throat, as he reached into his pocket. ""Actually, I do have this,"" he said, presenting her with a box. Inside lay a ring, its familiar glint catching her eye. Lisa almost fainted. It was the same ring George had kept, the very one she had discovered at his house. Her mind reeled, memories flooding back, and she stared at Benjamin, a mixture of shock and recognition in her eyes. “This is part of his Nazi art collection. Why do you have this?"" she asked, her voice trembling.
	“I was going through his stuff and…” he stammered, clearly taken aback by her reaction.
	“Why do you hold it? Why did you bring it?” she shrieked, her voice rising in panic.
	“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... I mean... Stupid me, I should have been more mindful about it. Anyway, I plan to give all that to someone who’s going to get rid of all the emblems and stuff. He will melt it or something. The only things I’m taking home with me are his books and photos, also some drawings I found,"" he explained, his voice laced with regret, realizing the distress he had unintentionally caused.
	Lisa took a deep breath, then thought about it for a moment. Actually, now she felt more relieved. Benjamin was about to clear George's house of that one collection she couldn't ignore, and he couldn't give up. She took another deep breath, and then felt a sense of comfort returning to her, this time even deeper.
	She liked the fact that she had invited Benjamin over to that specific cafe, and when Marie, the owner, approached their table to ask if everything was okay, she felt so at ease and high spirited all of a sudden that she said, ""Everything is perfect, luckily y'all improved in just about everything, includin' the waiters.""
	Marie smiled back at her and said, ""Well, we'd love to offer y'all and your companion some mornin' desserts, a carrot cake, on the house, of course.""
	A moment later, a miracle happened when Jeff came to bring them the cake and asked if he could join the table and talk a bit with Lisa about what she went through ever since she worked at that cafe. Lisa could clearly see the astonished look on Marie's face, but as miracles happen, she too was drawn to the table, making it a gathering of the whole four of them. They talked about what it takes to manage a cafe, and Lisa assumed this could be the magic of Benjamin, which drew them all to the table. Obviously, she felt that magic power herself, and probably so did Jamie, who joined the table to make a group of five.
	The conversation flowed naturally, as if they'd all been friends for years. Jeff leaned over, his eyes twinkling, and said, ""So Lisa, what's it been like all these years since workin' here with us? We sure missed your smile 'round here.""
	Lisa laughed, feeling a warmth that she hadn't felt in a long time, and responded, ""Oh Jeff, it's been a rollercoaster, but sittin' here with y'all today, it feels like comin' home."" Though her words might have sounded like a wild exaggeration, she decided to keep the positive tone that Jeff and Marie had started, despite the fact that they didn't know one another all that well. In fact, for a fleeting second, she had doubts whether they might be confusing her with a different person, one who had worked for them for a more considerable length of time. But the warmth in their eyes and the genuine connection she felt dispelled those doubts, and she allowed herself to bask in the unexpected camaraderie of the moment.
	Marie reached across the table and squeezed Lisa's hand, ""We always considered you part of the family, honey. It's good to have you back, even if it's just for breakfast.""
	Jamie chimed in, her rebellious streak shining through her words, ""I reckon it's the sacredness of this place, brings people together like nothin' else.""
	Even Benjamin, a stranger to them just moments before, seemed to fit perfectly into the mosaic, as if he'd always been there. They lingered over the carrot cake, savoring the sweetness of the moment, when Jeff said, his eyes twinkling with excitement, ""Well, it's a rather slow mornin', what do y'all say we close it down here and head over to Cumming where they found the extra-terrestrial stuff? I heard the country's all abuzz 'bout it!"" 
	The suggestion caught everyone by surprise but resonated with the adventurous spirit that had been ignited at the table. The possibility of a spontaneous journey together seemed like the perfect capstone to a morning filled with unexpected joys.
	Jamie was the first to chime in, her eyes wide with excitement, ""I'm in!"" Marie quickly followed with a gleeful nod, ""Count me in too!"" Benjamin's smile broadened, ""Sounds like a nice morning trip."" 
	Finally, Lisa hesitated, a touch of uncertainty in her voice, ""I'm not sure. I don't like long traffic jams."" She looked around at the eager faces, feeling the pull of their camaraderie. With a reluctant smile, she relented, ""But if y'all are goin' there, I guess I won't stay alone here."" 
	They first thought to go in separate cars, but when Jeff and Marie's car showed an empty tank, they decided to pack into Benjamin's four-seater Ford Mustang. Jeff chuckled, ""My late uncle used to have one of those, and he never consented to drive anything else. Once your foot hits the gas pedal of a Ford Mustang, it can sometimes be for life.""
	Lisa found it strange how Jamie's expression completely changed once she settled into the rear seat. Gone was the religious demeanor, replaced by a more rebellious spark, or perhaps, Lisa mused, this was the spirit of Jesus in a different light.
	The first fifteen or twenty minutes of the drive were completely smooth, filled with laughter and shared stories without a hint of talk about running a café. But as they approached the last hour of the drive, the roads became jammed with curious Americans who wanted to catch a glimpse of the extraterrestrial discovery right in the center of Cumming. The excitement was palpable, but so was the impatience, as bumper to bumper traffic slowly inched its way towards a mystery that had captured the nation's imagination.
	""When we get there, I wanna hug one of them aliens,"" Jamie exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. ""I never hugged an extraterrestrial before."" Jeff quickly responded, his voice tinged with amusement, ""Who did, darlin'? Ain't none of us ever had the chance!"" The car filled with laughter, the surreal prospect of meeting extraterrestrials bringing them all closer together.
	Then something truly unexpected happened, something even stranger than the prospect of meeting an alien face-to-face. Lisa felt an urge, a gentle pull from within, to place her hand on Benjamin's as it rested on the stick shift. As she gave in to the impulse, she felt her heart begin to race, a rush of excitement tinged with something deeper. It was joy—pure, sacred joy, akin to what Jamie must have felt as she prayed wholeheartedly in church on Sundays before her evening shifts at the cafe. It was a connection, intimate and profound, and in that moment, the ordinary world fell away, leaving only the extraordinary.
	Then Benjamin looked at her and smiled, and she felt the joy penetrate even deeper, so much deeper, until everything became one. The slow-moving world outside, the chatter and laughter inside the car, the distinct look that Marie gave her through the rearview mirror—it all fused into a single harmonious moment. It was all good, and it felt like the moment she had been waiting for, perhaps her whole life, and now it was here. 
	True, the anticipation of seeing extra-terrestrials later in the day was indeed thrilling, yet it seemed like the mere icing on the cake in comparison to the rich connection and unity she was experiencing now. The true feast was in this moment, in this profound understanding that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before. Lisa closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the goodness around her, determined to etch this precious memory in her heart, never to be forgotten.
","August 11, 2023 15:56","[[{'Leland Mesford': 'I kept expectimg a moment like from the movie ""Christine."" When I didn\'t, I though about ""Herby the Love Bug.""', 'time': '22:55 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Mary Bendickson': 'A follow up to a previous episode. Very descriptive and nice tie in to prompt and current events.', 'time': '04:41 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '2'}, []], [{'Leland Mesford': 'Interesting story. It has a lot of great parts and pieces. I thought it was especially interesting how casual and relaxed everything was. It just had an easy, go-with-the-flow feeling throughout.', 'time': '22:53 Aug 16, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,mojrhb,Watch and Learn,Nick Baldino,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/mojrhb/,/short-story/mojrhb/,Science Fiction,0,"['American', 'Coming of Age', 'Science Fiction']",3 likes,"
There is an old radio shack, with an antenna sticking two hundred feet in the air, deep in Montana wilderness. It’s the kind one sees on the skyline but never up close. It stands out on the horizon, blinking purple in the night like a dying piece of galaxy. On the ground, pale blue light escapes under the cedar door and onto winter snow.
Inside the shack are two gelatinous figures, leaning on swivel chairs. They are the clear color of snot and have the expanded look of blobfish. In front of them is a slew of televisions, playing all types of content- surgical videos, sitcoms, history docs, Hamlet. One of the figures points to a screen where survival man Bear Grylls is eating a beetle larva.
 
“These creatures are delirious,” he says in his native language, which is a set of gargles and clicks. “Perfectly good fruit to eat, and they’re sucking on mud grubs.”
 
The other one kicks his feet up with a splat and reaches on the table for a Honeycrisp. “The more of these I taste,” he says, “the less I want to go home.” He bites through the apple skin, but against his sticky membrane, the sound is more akin to a slurp. 
 
The pointing figure snorts. “Please. This planet? I’d live a better life blind in a neon galaxy.”
 
“I find it amazing. It’s like stepping back in time. The way those Amish folk do it on this world.”
 
“They’re the most delirious of all. Why do they scoop horse shit all day? They have cars!” 
 
“It’s not about that,” the apple-eater says. He goes to throw the core above him. It sticks to the palm of his hand. “It’s the principle of it. They’re smarter than you think, I’m telling ya.”
 
The pointing figure swivels over. His dinner-plate eyeball is concentrated to a slit. On his chest is a wet sticker that reads “Hello, My Name Is DAEV.”
 
“’Smarter than I think.’ Really?” He points at a television in the top right, where a young boy attempts to jump his scooter over a wooden ramp. Upon impact, the plywood flattens out, and he flips over his handlebars. “There are millions of these videos, and they’re uploaded for free, willingly, every day. Failure is at the center of everything on this world. It’s a disease, like cancer…” He pauses, then with a quick remembrance, “WHICH they haven’t even figured out how to cure yet.”
 
The other one, who’s nametag says Phel, frowns. “Think of all they HAVE figured out, though. Agriculture. Airplanes. Vaccines, electric, the Internet. It’s quite a mark for six million years of existence.”
Daev goes back to watching the television. “Whatever. We did all of that in, like, half the time. Without bones.”
 
None of the televisions have sound- there is only wind and the hum of an electric generator. It seems to run cold through their little hideaway. Daev breaks through with a creak as he sits up in his chair. “Holy shit.”
 
“What?” Phel shakes his hand, trying to drop the apple core.
“It’s Jown. They caught him.”
 
A middle screen is running a town hall from CSPAN. In the center is a red-tied congressman testifying. He points at posterboard cutouts of grainy objects in the sky. 
 
“How do you know?”
 
Daev rolls his chair closer. “See the lip at the end of the ship? Where it almost becomes a ring around the hatch window?” Phel nods. 
 
“That’s his ship, an Amalgamite Quartzspeed. Three different shifters and two for Mach 100. He was probably joyriding when they got him.”
 
Phel sighs. “I love those ships. Almost brought my Clontzdale to the Milky Way. But the rules are clear.”
 
“No personal vehicles on business,” they repeat together. 
 
“Do you think they’ll torture him?” Phel asks.
 
Daev changes the channel on the CSPAN screen. “Eh. Who cares. He was an asshole anyways. Guy gave me bad vibes.”
 
“How so?”
 
“He was never doing the job he was assigned. Was obsessed with ‘old-school scouting.’ You know-abducting, stripping, probing. Couldn’t come to terms with the fact that the humans already did the dirty work for us.”
 
“Ah. We have a word for those people in my hometown.” Then, Phil makes a trumpeting sound that goes higher in pitch and then drops off. Daev begins to laugh, which sends tiny ripples through his form.
 
“Yeah,” Daev says, “we use that word, too.”
 
“Do you think they know about the rest of us?”
 
Daev fishes a Camel from the corner of his station. “No, I don’t. Despite what you continue to think, humans are dumb. Whereas we evolved from brains to bodies, they took the opposite approach. From monkey bodies to what you see today. They know very little and think they know everything…” He strikes a match and places the Camel to his lips, the filter going wet upon placement. “…which is why they’ll never understand how many we have here.” Daev pulls in but coughs immediately. “Man, these are terrible. I love them.”
 
Phel is watching a rerun of Soul Train- he enjoys the dancing humans, the way they jibe and bounce in technicolor tension. His species has no such ritual. “Is it possible they know things we don’t understand?”
 
Daev pulls in a second time, this attempt much cleaner than the first. He blows a zephyr of tobacco across the televisions. 
 
“Unlikely but not impossible. That’s the motivation, after all. Gather intel. Know them better than they know themselves.”
 
Phel is quiet while he scans over each television. A street camera of Times Square where a gold-painted man twirls a sign. The final charge at the end of Braveheart. Two Dobermanns eating kibble from a bowl. An episode of Real Housewives, where three glasses of wine are spilt. An episode of Cheers, where zero glasses of wine are spilt. He curls his fingers into a pudgy mass. 
 
“What’s that?” Phel says.
 
Deav follows his gaze. In the lower left hand, right in front of Phel, is a screen that’s so dark it looks to be turned off.  It’s a live stream- the static bunches up like black frost on the clear glass, making it hard to sense all the details. There’s a bed, he can tell, and someone sitting up in it… a teenage boy. He seems to be rubbing something.
“A picture,” Phel says. “He’s touching a picture.”
 
 Deav looks closer. It’s a tiny one, barely big enough for a nightstand, but under the glimpse of moon that cuts onto the teen’s comforter, he can tell it’s a yearbook photo. A girl with blond curls. 
 
“Ah!” Daev says, smiling as he ashes the Camel on the arm of his swivel chair. It squishes against it, the filter becoming part of his skin. “I know what he’s doing. Common at his age, although I’ve never seen it done live. It’s called masturbation. You don’t have to worry- it’s a happy thing.” Daev pauses and speaks again. “Well, actually, it’s not happy in the eyes of their religion. Sinful. But as we know, religions are nothing more than societal constructs, same as any species we find, meant to…”
 
Daev continues his tirade, but Phel keeps his eye focused. There’s more on the screen- crumpled tissues, a loose golden necklace. He wonders what it means and waits for an answer. It comes in the form of a car circling the neighborhood, possibly listening to the baseball game he has playing on another screen. As the car passes, it floods the room with slices of yellow light, and for just a second he can see two wet channels on each side of the boy’s nose. It is torture of the brightest kind, and then it is gone.
 
“I’ve seen that before,” Phel says. “On the sitcoms. Breakup.”
 
“Huh?” Daev says, breaking off his tangent. “Well, yes, I guess they go hand in hand. Masturbation and breakups.”
 
“No. This boy, he’s going through a breakup.”
 
“Yeah, yeah, breakup.” Daev’s mind has gone elsewhere. He changes a television to show explicit videos and watches them closely. “Woah! There’s a big one.”
 
Phel scoots into his command center, saddling up to an aquarium-sized PC with a big blue screen, and opens the E-Mail icon. They have faster forms of communication on his home planet, but he enjoys the deliberateness of human technology, each piece of his password making a sticky pop on the plastic keys, the refresh icon twirling on his cursor. Finally, he is able to write a message. He taps in slow movements, one key at a time, until it seems complete. Phel reads it one time over, then smiles as the message wooshes out of his inbox. 
 
Daev doesn’t notice anything. He’s still focused on the one screen, making lude comments as if he’s the one getting aroused. “Oh yeah,” he says, sticking two Camels on his lips, “work that thing, lady. They don’t do it like that in the Creevstar quadrant, no they do not.”
 
Phel begins to nod off, his eye passing over each screen like hardening syrup, and soon he is looking at nothing, feeling only the crystalizing cold on his gummy skin. His eye only reopens when he hears the door begin to bark, the cedar creaking under the weight of something unknown in the dead of night. Daev looks at him- the two cigarettes are nothing more than gray dots on his lip, and he spits them onto the floor. 
 
“Probably some fallen debris,” Daev says. “Or a nosy bear- I’ve seen those on Discovery, sneaking into cars and tents.”
 
“Don’t bears hibernate through the winters?”
 
Daev shrugs as he stands out of his chair, kicking the cushion which attempts to mold onto his behind. “Could be a person.”
 
Phel stares at the door, which is now silent in their presence. He wonders who the character might be- a woodsman or a ranger, lost in thick slurry, or a thief in search of forgotten goods. “Let’s hope not,” Phel mutters.
 
Phel and Daev nod at each other, and as they approach the door, a change occurs. Their gelatinous forms begin to shake, rippling over every inch, and their backs and arms begin to expand like bubbles of Bazooka. Their lower jaws protrude from their lips, and diamond-thin teeth begin to break through the flesh. More of these teeth creep out from every orifice, on their hands and spines and foreheads. Their skin turns a darker color, blending into the ash on Daev’s face. Scaly and wide, the two visitors open the door.
 
Phel has one final thought before submitting to his enraged state. He knows not what character he will face, but he knows for certain the part he plays. He will always be the creature, the monster. The blustering wind cuts deep against his skin.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The night had been tough on Lance. Dreams were the source of it- in his mind he had won her back, had been laying with her golden plumage under his nose, an arm around her beating heart. When he’d awoke in his bed all alone, the realization had made him cry. They were ugly, wet tears that embarrassed him in the morning, and he looked back on them as if they were someone else’s- a drama geek’s, maybe, but definitely not the JV football captain’s. 
 
Outside the morning strolled on. Mrs. Rodney ran across a purple dawn sidewalk, each step a strange sort of hop. The purr of defrosting cars was a natural sound, passing across his street like radiation. An owl would interrupt once in a while with a long hoot- the annunciation was good. The call was so hollow that it shocked Lance, and he wrapped his comforter around his shoulders as he stood. 
 
He wondered when he would see her. That was the worst part- not that he would see her, which was a certainty, but hypothesizing how many times they would run into each other, how many times she’d ignore his sight, how often she’d reject his weak smile or passing comment. She was a wall he couldn’t help but knock his head against. It made Lance want to be sick. 
 
Maybe he would be sick today. That’s how he felt, after all. Full to the brim with sickness and ache and that adult phenomenon his father called “depression.” He seemed too young for all this. The bed would take it away, he knew. 
 
Lance grabbed his phone, half-expecting a text from her, and fully disappointed when he didn’t see one. There was only an email notification, and Lance opened it, another way to distract himself from where he was and where he had to go. 
 
The title had no subject. It was only one line of text, from an email address that was a long string of spliced numbers. The text said “UeR gONA B OeK.”
 
He read it once, narrowed his eyes, read it again. Then, for good measure, he read it once more. 
 
He knew it was spam. The typos were there. The fake email address was an added touch. But where’s the bait? He saw nothing to click on, no place to give the last four of his social. There was another hoot from outside his window. 
 
Finally, he looked at the time. Delivered at 1:49AM. Lance hadn’t seen his alarm when he’d awoken last night, but he thought 1:49 was a pretty good guess on when the dream had dissolved. When someone else’s tears had begun to fall. 
 
He clicked his phone off and stood up again. It was a strange message, and yet, wasn’t everything in his life strange right now? The girls, the feelings, the emails on his phone. None of it was easy. But he was still breathing, still walking. Still passing classes and pushing sleds across the field. Wasn’t the message true in that sense? That he was going to be OK?
 
Lance threw the comforter off his shoulder and stood on his feet again. Yes, he would be OK. Each toe felt solid on the hardwood, and he began to walk to the shower, letting the hiss of hot water fill up the room. In his bedroom, the owl hooted once more, but he wasn’t there to hear it.
 
Hundreds of miles away, where the owls were copious, a purple light in the sky continued to blink.
","August 11, 2023 17:12",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,vsyh90,Born Too Early,Chris Munroe,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/vsyh90/,/short-story/vsyh90/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],3 likes,"
Planet KL-9592 was pretty enough, Captain L’aran Storacher thought as her ship approached, but nothing special. She could name fifteen galaxies off the top of her head that were more impressive than this backwater on the edge of the universe, and the planet itself was relatively simple, covered by dull blue with patches of swirled green and brown across it that were obscured in places by weather patterns. Visually, there was nothing to explain the excitement among her passengers as they approached the small planet. She turned to her first mate, K’chan, intending to ask if he knew what was so exciting about this pale blue nothing when the ship’s computer chirped, alerting the crew to incoming space junk. L’aran had been born on a spaceship, and she hadn’t spent much time off of one in the intervening three tetrades, but she’d never seen anything like this. As they approached the planet there was more and more space junk, all of it apparently engineered, made out of a shining metallic material and twisted into impossible shapes. The computer was able to chart a course clear of the junk, but the entire bridge quieted for a confused moment as the polluted horizon appeared on the large screen in front of them. “Captain.” The frazzled voice came from behind her and she turned to find the ship’s passenger coordinator, I’nari, standing behind her. I’nari usually projected a calm and collected presence, but today she seemed…almost smudged around the edges. Her crest was slicked back as normal, but there were small pin feathers popping out along the edges. Her uniform was clean but didn’t appear to have been pressed before she put it on, removing the crisp edges she was usually so proud to display. Most telling, she hadn’t put on her vision assistance cups, instead opting to use the clunkier vision assistance frames. “You look like someone the helstock dragged in,” K’chan snorted, eyeing I’nari’s less than impressive appearance. I’nari put her hands up and smoothed her crest back, the small pin feathers popping right back out. “It’s fine,” L’aran gave K’chan a quelling look. She knew he enjoyed needling the pretty passenger coordinator, but something was obviously upsetting her and he should know better. There was a time and place for such things and now was not it. “How are our passengers doing, I’nari?”L’aran had spent about half of the trip eating in the passenger dining hall. Orean, the captain she had served as first mate, had taught her that while it was important for passengers to see her and even be able to approach her on occasion, it was also just as important to control where and how such things happened. Otherwise, Orean had confided in her, they would inherently choose the worst possible timing to force their way to see her. Her dinners among them were why she knew that her current set of passengers were all archeologists and scientists.It was unlikely that the passengers were physically dangerous to I’nari, and the poor woman didn’t seem to be injured. Yet something was obviously off. Come to think of it, L’aran hadn’t seen a lot of the passenger coordinator during this trip. She usually spent a lot of time on the bridge, trading barbs with K’chan. L’aran thought they should just mate already and get it over with, but what did she know about such things? “Captain…” I’nari hesitated, which caused L’aran to sit up straighter. I’nari was very straight forward, she didn’t usually hesitate. “Some of the passengers are requesting that we stop and take samples of the space junk.”L’aran felt her eye ridges raise and when she looked at K’chan he had the same incredulous look on his face. “I know that’s not possible,” I’nari was quick to say. “It’s not on the flight plan, it’s not possible.” She murmured the last words more to herself than her audience, then she looked up at L’aran. “It’s only, one of the archeologists is being quite the pain about needing to ‘take samples’ and no matter how many times I try to explain the intricacies of space flight and flight plans and fuel capacity, she’s being rather hardheaded about it all. No offense,” I’nari cringed and looked at K’chan. The quartz-based being chuckled and waved her apology off. “We take that as a compliment on my home planet,” he said graciously.L’aran pinched her nasal bridge. She knew exactly who I’nari was talking about. Herian Imal was the head of the expedition to KL-9592 and she’d approached the captain a few times during her dinners in the passenger dining hall, always with questions regarding the passenger’s baggage allowance. L’aran didn’t care how they divided it up, but each passenger was allowed 1,009 yikons of baggage, period. I’nari was right to talk about “the intricacies of space flight and flight plans and fuel capacity.” If they carried too much weight, the fuel capacity would suffer and they wouldn’t make it home for Dr. Imal to conduct her “very important archaeological research.” Dr. Imal had refused to take that for an answer, arguing that her team would likely need more than the weight allotted to them.She also just had a really high pitched voice, which annoyed L’aran. To be fair, all Coriani had high pitched voices, it was a part of their biology, but Dr. Imal managed somehow to hit a pitch that made L’aran want to remove the other being’s vocal organ. “Has Dr. Imal been badgering you a lot during this trip?” she asked carefully.I’nari somehow looked even more frazzled while still maintaining her perfect posture. L’aran could swear she saw another pin feather pop free of the poor being’s crest. “Dr. Imal has very exacting standards, Captain. And as the leader of the expedition, she wants to make sure every detail is perfect so that her team are able to use their time on KL-9592 to the fullest.”That would be a yes.“What is so important about this,” L’aran waved her hand at the approaching planet, searching for a good description of the underwhelming sight, “this water covered rock? As far as I can tell we’re at the back end of the universe at a tiny nothing of a planet surrounded by weird space junk.”K’chan sighed, sounding put upon.“You didn’t read my write up about this trip, did you?” He asked, though he obviously already knew the answer. L’aran felt her nasal ridges flare, partly in indignation but she’d be lying if there wasn’t a bit of embarrassment there too. “I read the passenger manifest and studied the orbital trajectories,” she defended herself weakly. “But no, I didn’t read your extracurricular essay.”K’chan and I’nari both looked at her like she was the strange one here. Like it wasn’t first mates who spent their free time writing up packets of information about where they were going and why who were weird. L’aran didn’t really care where they were going or why her passengers wanted to go there; it was just her job to get them there and home again. “Did you not study KL-9592 in school?” I’nari asked, honestly curious.“I grew up in the Mondrage Fleet,” L’aran answered, “early schooling was focused more on surviving in space.”“And then you had to take up surviving in space as your post-schooling too,” K’chan rolled his eyes. “Did you know,” I’nari asked, her eyes lighting up, “that 87% of the children born and raised in the Mondrage Fleet end up choosing to live planetside when they are of age? And of those 87% only about 5% ever move their home even once, even on planet. And only 2% of the children born and raised there end up staying with the Fleet.” I’nari loved so-called fun facts. L’aran, whose entire clutch had settled on their Pa’s home planet when they came of age, had lived those facts and found them less than fun. Though that might have been because she was the decided outsider in her clutch. And the clutch ahead of them. And the one behind.“I guess I’m part of the 11% then,” L’aran smiled weakly, not wanting to crush I’nari’s enthusiasm. “But yes, I did not receive a standard planetside early education, though our teachers always stressed that our curriculum met the Federation standard.”Both K’chan and I’nari looked unconvinced. L’aran cleared her throat. “So what is so special about KL-9592?”“It’s the first,” K’chan said simply. L’aran made an inquisitive noise at him.“Planet KL-9592 has remains of the earliest recorded civilizations in the universe,” I’nari explained.“Okay.” L’aran drew the word out, trying to figure out how to phrase her next question.K’chan laughed. “Oh, you space headed being,” he teased. “What I’nari is trying to say, what I wrote so eloquently in my ’extracurricular essay,’ is that not only are the ruins on KL-9592 the oldest in the known universe, the civilizations they came from are extinct. Whatever beings lived on KL-9592 died out long before the Federation was even a twinkle in General Orielian’s eye.” He paused, then asked, “You know who that is, right?”“Of course I know who General Orielian is,” L’aran groused, though it was a fair question. “I said our curriculum was to the Federation standard, didn’t I?”“As far as they can tell,” I’nari said when it looked like K’chan was about to snipe back at L’aran, “and by ‘they’ I mean archaeologists like Dr. Imal and her team, the beings of KL-9592 had achieved space flight, but they never left this solar system. It’s unclear what caused their extinction, but it seems to have happened suddenly and unexpectedly. The other thing they know is that it happened 759,000 years ago.”L’aran felt her eyes widen at that. Her own people, the Ginassi, were considered one of the oldest beings in the universe but their earliest fossil records only dated to about 500,000 years ago. Their oral history extended maybe three thousand years and their written history even less. “759 thousand?” she asked, to make sure she’d heard correctly. “Yup.” K’chan nodded once. “And because it’s so old, it’s protected by the Federation. It takes about a gazillion permits and a very thorough background check for anyone wanting to study the ruins there. That’s why this trip is only two Federation annuals and not, say, a tetrade or two.” Maybe Dr. Imal’s overbearing demeanor was understandable then. L’aran didn’t know how much it cost to get the permits to study KL-9592 but they were no doubt expensive and Dr. Imal’s sponsor for this expedition was an association of small universities from the Theian Galaxy. Maybe Fed U and its sibling schools at the center of the universe could fund multiple expeditions to KL-9592, but this was likely Dr. Imal’s only chance to visit. L’aran imagined Dr. Imal felt like a pilot who usually made planet-satellite jumps being asked to test fly the newest Federation spacecraft. Like, a really sleek, fast one.“Do you need me to pull rank on Dr. Imal?” L’aran returned her mind to the reason I’nari was here.“I hate to ask, Captain. I know it’s technically my job.” I’nari smoothed her hands down the front of her uniform, looking down in consternation as she felt the lack of crisp lines. “Ifaal.” She requested the help of her people’s main deity quietly. “They’re going to drive me to drink at this rate.”“Not to worry,” L’aran sent control of the ship to K’chan’s console and stood from her chair. “What’s the point of being captain if I can’t put the fear of the stars into a passenger every once in a while?”K’chan smiled wickedly at her.“I know that’s my favorite part of your job,” he joked as she headed toward the bridge doors.~The pitch of Dr. Imal’s voice, L’aran decided a few minutes later, was not understandable. No spacecraft was sleek or fast enough to excuse her tone.“No.” L’aran cut off the being’s rant about the importance of space junk from KL-9592 based on a recent article by Yuurili in The Archaeological Association’s quarterly digest. “I am the captain of this craft, and I am telling you that what you want is impossible. That is the end of the conversation. You will not badger my passenger coordinator about things that are impossible any longer, am I understood?”Dr. Imal shrank back for a second, then glared at L’aran as if she could use the force of her bright eyes alone to change the answer she didn’t like, but L’aran had been a captain long enough that angry passengers didn’t phase her.“Fine,” Dr. Imal huffed. “But you’re standing in the way of expanding the knowledge of every being in the Federation!” With that self important volley, she turned and stomped off. Well, as much as a Corian could stomp, anyway.L’aran caught I’nari’s eye and rolled her own.I’nari’s lips twitched, but she maintained her professional facade. There were still passengers around, after all.~Back on the bridge, L’aran checked that their trajectory was still free of the multitude of space junk that circled KL-9592, then turned to her personal screen and pulled up a few articles about the ugly planet. She read a few news articles and a few academic articles before choosing a personal opinion post. It was written, years ago, by the being who now hosted her favorite history cast. Effectively, the post read, the beings of Planet KL-9592 must have believed themselves to be alone in the universe. No other civilization we know of now existed at the time of their extinction, not in any appreciable way. Even the earliest Ginassi had yet to hatch by the time those beings were lost. And yet, we find again and again in the detritus of their lives art and stories about the universe at large. They dreamed of a world beyond their own. They imagined a universe full of life and color and technology they could not create themselves, but that would make their world, make any world, a better and fairer place.The beings of KL-9592 were not perfect, that is clear. Their remains include tales of horrors that range from planet wide wars to horrendous interpersonal conflicts. One of their foundational stories appears to be about a man who kills his brother due to jealousy that his brother is favored by their deity. These were not always peaceful beings. They were not always as kind as they imagined the rest of the universe to be.But can you blame them? They thought they were alone in the vast black of the universe. I imagine it’s a lot like being left alone in a locked, dark room, with no idea if any one else is in dwelling. And still…and still they sang songs and wrote stories and created casts that celebrated each other, celebrated the world around them, and celebrated the best that the universe could be.And that, in my opinion, is the best lesson we can learn from them.~A few clocks later, after their craft had navigated the space junk and entered the planet’s atmosphere, they landed on KL-9592. As the captain, it was L’aran’s job to disembark first, to ensure the environment was safe. KL-9592 was safe for all beings on the craft, atmosphere wise, though L’aran had been warned the gravity would be a little heavier than she was used to. She felt it the moment she stepped foot on the dusty surface of the planet, like someone had attached strong, magnetic boots to her feet. Otherwise, though, they had hit their landing spot perfectly and of course there was no native fauna to worry about. There hadn’t been in 759,000 years. There was, however, native flora, all around her. It was mostly green with spots of red, and yellow, and pink, and orange, and brown scattered throughout. No wonder they dreamed about a universe full of color, their planet was bursting with it!Remembering herself, she pressed the button to open her com line and assure everyone that it was safe. K’chan came down next, followed by more of her crew. The porters spilled from the back of the craft, unloading the equipment the archaeologist and scientists would need for the next two annuals. Finally, the passengers disembarked, led by Dr. Imal. “Captain,” the being said cooly, nodding her head. L’aran withheld an eye roll.“Dr. Imal, welcome to KL-9592. The porters are unloading your equipment.”“Thank you, Captain.” Dr. Imal inclined her head again, but her eyes were already wandering to where the porters were unloading. L’aran started to indicated that Dr. Imal was free to hurry off toward them and begin hovering and chattering at them about delicate equipment. She paused, though. “Dr. Imal, can you tell me what the beings here called their planet?” Every planet had a home name and a Federation designation, after all. There was no way the civilization here called it KL-9592.Dr. Imal thought for a moment, then brightened.“If I recall correctly, in the language of the beings who lived on this part of the planet, they had different languages for different regions, you see,” she explained, hands gesturing excitedly. “But yes, the beings of this region called it…Earth.”“Earth,” L’aran muttered to herself, smiling in thanks before finally indicating the archaeologist was free to go. As the Corian hurried away, L’aran looked out at the colorful world that had once been the home of a civilization born too early, and nodded to herself. She turned to her first mate. “Welcome to Earth.”
","August 11, 2023 18:01",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,r5crcs,MYSTICAL LANDING,Tahirah Abubakr,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/r5crcs/,/short-story/r5crcs/,Science Fiction,0,"['Adventure', 'Contemporary', 'African American']",3 likes,"
 
                                       MYSTICAL LANDING
 
“Wow! I am spinning downward to… where am I going? I thought this was just a test drive from the Timekeepers!  Sometimes they are just so secretive! Bump! Bump! I’m here! What is here and where is this place? Am I alive and what is it to be alive?”
Looking all around, the being feels itself, continually asking these questions of herself. Looking around she realizes that she is in unfamiliar territory. Attempting to get her focus and a clear vision of where she has landed, she senses the difference in the atmosphere. The air suddenly feels different on the thin layer of her luminous body. She sees that she is surrounded by a species looking much different from herself. She pauses and asks herself, “Am I in a dream or here alive in this space?” 
“Silence!” she said to herself. “I will need to learn of these beings and their ways.  Hmmm. I wonder what that will be like?” 
Musing over what she is sensing and seeing in this strange territory, she says with a sigh, “These are strange times you know!  According to the Elders, all of the planets are experiencing some shifting around. Well, I guess you could say that I am an alien here.”  
Peering around and out of the corner of her eyes, she sees what looks like another being, but unlike her. It has a different coat of skin than she has.  “I wonder what I am to call them and again what is this place  called.”  
Without hesitation, the alien went and introduced herself to the person with a different skin coat. “Hey, I just landed here in your home. What is it called?”  The stranger is taken back for a moment, puzzled by the luminous body. 
The stranger spoke with a kind, trembling voice. “Let me introduce myself. I am Alexus, and here place is called Earth, but  I can see from the color you are… you are not from around here or anyplace I have known. Who are you? First off, you look alien to me! Now, who are you? 
The alien spoke. “I just landed here. My name back where I come from is Danamon, the Brave One, Bringer of Luck, Compassion, Holder of High Vibration of Greatness, of Destiny, Love, Health, Money, and Friendship.”
Alexus, hearing that goes, “Wow” Nobody can be all of that! You, sure enough, got to be an alien! Wait a minute. You were just talking to me right and …” Alexus pauses. “You wouldn’t happen to be one of them aliens they have been warning us about in the past. Now almost daily we can hear something of the kind. So Danamon is what you say your name is? How is it you could know and say all the meaning of your name?”
“Well, Alexus, where I come from, we have this sacred council. ‘NET’ is what they call it. There are many councils of this kind, but this one is the evolved ‘Elders’.  and they are charged with naming a child at birth and calling forth the gift they are brought to the community.  Oh, and also, they serve in many ways, including learning of ways to keep all records on time. Back in my home, they serve as wisdom keepers and timekeepers of all space.  They live on all the planets of the universe.”
“Wow, dude! You just got way ahead of me! You truly are acting like an alien! Let me get this right. You are telling me that there is more than one world in the universe?” 
“Yes and no Alexus. There are also different earth layers - lower earth, middle earth, and upper earth. What I am telling you is that yes, there is more than one Earth, and yes more than one planet..  You who have called yourself human are sort of stuck here now in the lower earth realm.  You have made yourselves believe that this world is all there is. You lost your memory and detached, forgetting that you are a multidimensional being.”
“Let me get this straight, and forgive me if I am a little slow to get all you are telling me, and on top of it all, you are from where?”  
“Oh yeah,” says Danamon. “I am from another time and a much different planet and a new arrival here in the Earth plane. And yes, we appear different.  But in creation, we all are embodied in the same substance that represents the All That Is.” 
Feeling a little impatient with the newly met stranger, Alexus, Danamon asked in a kinder though hurried manner, “Could we agree to get to know each other as friends? In that way, we can learn from each other. My friend!” Oh yes says Alexus, “I am Alexus the artist”
 With a pause, Danamon continues. “As I had begun earlier in this conversation, I am alien to you as you are alien to me.  The difference between the way you and I see in the world is that you are programmed to react and obey something other than yourself, the self of creation.  When we traveled out from the original layers of our creation, some of us got stuck in the in-between layers of the earth's worlds.
“In my world,  those who we call the Timekeepers are able to tell us where we have landed in the web of creation.  These Elders indeed have learned the ways of time and keep track of our evolution. However,  you here on earth are lost to this wisdom. You call them time travelers but they are more even than just time travelers, they are the Keepers of Time, and they are Masters of Time.  They are the original of time itself and they tell us that they are Star People. Through your own evolution you too will one day evolve into a Star yet to be born.”
“Wow!” says Alexus. ""I only hear of things like this by watching Star Trek! What can you tell me further about those other layers of the world?” 
“Alexus, I will be happy to tell you. But before we get ahead of ourselves, let me be clear and precise with you because you Earthlings are so misled by what you hear with your head, and are most afraid of listening with your heart. It is a way some of you get lost, separated, and land in the lower worlds. This happens to be the place you are right now. You are wondering why? You came here to this earth plain to be Earthkeepers.  Well, our Timekeepers, the Ancient Ones, tell us that you became too attached to what you created and this caused you to spin downward to the bottom layers, what might be called the underearth or in more modern terms, unconsciousness.  
“This is not a terrible thing though.  You can find your way out when you see that you came to the earth to learn a bigger lesson. You see, Alexus, we did not meet by accident.”  
“You mean, Danamon, you and me could be a thing? Well, you know, not like that. Were we meant to meet?”  
“Yes, I believe so, because I can assure you this trip came as a total surprise to me. The Timekeepers and teachers on my planet in charge of our development and heroic quest training were preparing us for a journey to help you with a New Earth. I did not think it would be so soon. As I told you before, the Wisdom keepers and Timekeepers had already informed us of changes on earth and that since we had graduated here, we would soon have to return, go back through the time, and bring those who are ready and evolving a remembrance of what they have forgotten and bring them up through the veils of time.”
Alexus paused and gave thought to all she had heard. “I see now how I have been wishing to have some sign that the Great Spirit was hearing my calling.” 
“Yes,” Danamon responded. “You Earthlings tend to always be looking outside to the appearance you have created of what this great Spirit should look like and many times its messages go unheeded.  When you solidify the Spirit with symbols and trappings, you shut yourself off from the true Spirit.  Well, Alexus, where I come from, we know that Spirit is just energy and we too are energy. Through our thoughts, we transport it into being and solidify its usage.  As an example, matter is energy before it becomes solid. You, dear one, are stuck in third-dimensional thinking. This makes it difficult for most of you humans to find your way out. You forgot that you are co-creator with that which some of you call God and others of you call Spirit are energy and embodied in your makeup.
“When you landed here some 4 billion years ago, you came with a true pure purpose - to discover your being in this dimension, to study it, to make a place for yourself and family, and to dedicate yourselves as the Earthkeepers, and take on responsibility for the care of the waters, trees, and earth medicine. But this purpose became lost and forgotten. All the problems you see before you humans now are all of your creation. If things are to change, you must be fully made aware of your original agreement.”
“Yes. I hear you. But we are of all different races and ethnicities.”  
“That is true, dear Alexus, but your ethnicity or culture are those things mirroring back to you -  your own creation. I am to remind you aliens that you are all aliens to each other. You have failed many times here in this earth plane because you have chosen to keep yourselves separate by codes of race. You make yourself fearful of your other hues and shades and you even grow to hate yourself in many forms. You have yet to see that you are all one being.  Surely as artists, you will know that. That is unless it is just another form of your ego to make you different.  I think I recall that the earlier arts reflect to the people their status, whether it was religious or political. This art was about evolution, was it not? To change the course you are on will follow a collective consciousness. It only takes one spark, and you dear Alexus, could be that spark to light the fire, as the one voice to draw a crowd.”
She paused. “It's clear to me now,” says Danamon, “that I did not just land here by accident; my journey was already in the making. Sometimes Spirit is like that. It appears when we least expected it.   The Timekeepers tell me that I have arrived here in your sphere because there are enough of you awakened on the Earth plane to make the call for a New Earth. You, Alexus, are just one of the ones to take the lead. I am sure there are more ready to stand with you. Yes, this is what you have been waiting for. I recall hearing you sing about the hearing and the calling of your ancestors and they're dreaming you into place.  Yes, for sure it is your kind who are the newly awakened co-creators of the New Earth. You made the response once before to lead the way and it was snatched from you by dark forces. Perhaps there were lessons to be learned.
“Perhaps, the lessons have been to remember that just as you are involved in co-creating your world, you are also responsible for its well-being.  When you took on the role of Earthkeeper, you become dedicated to its stewardship. We have but to look around you to see how your species has failed in this role. The oceans have been poisoned, the earth has been scarred, and the air is unhealthy for all beings who live on this Earth. This is a great imbalance. 
“The choice you now make will hold the sacred dream for the planet where all beings can enjoy peace and prosperity, where everything is in harmony with creation itself. You will remember that everything that you do has an impact on seven generations.
“You will remember that I have come because I am summoned here to help you to remember your original agreement to be Earthkeepers. You have outgrown your small dreams of what you once called comfort, success, and achievement. You are no longer happy with the big house left to you by your great-grandfather.  You have chosen this new layer of creation and in so doing your agreement is to hold the sacred dream for all the planet and all the beings to live peacefully.
“Now is your time to clean up your earth. To show your care for Mother Earth, begin your stewardship by talking with your other selves.  Feed good foods to your body and good thoughts to your mind. Look to your heart for the answers. These positive vibrations will filter out into the rest of the world. Be the Earthkeepers.”
Author: Tahirah 'Arina' Abubakr
","August 11, 2023 18:52",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,xmojja,Hope Grows,Peter Naughton,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/xmojja/,/short-story/xmojja/,Science Fiction,0,"['Contemporary', 'Happy', 'Inspirational']",3 likes,"
 Hope Grows
 
Welcome to the fifth meeting of the Stepping Stones Club and to our guest speaker Tibetan Sister Duc Huu., She has had many wonderful experiences in creating a new cure for cancer which is based entirely on eating mushrooms. But also she has strong opinions on the existence of intelligent life in outer space based on her own experience while meditating in a mountain cave in Tibet. Here she is.
Sister Huu smiles and says ""I am blessed to be with you today and I bring you good news of the enlightenment with which I have been gifted while meditating in a cave belonging to my monastery on Mount Kunlun in Tibet. I had gone to the cave for a three-week retreat and had brought three jars of cooked rice to keep me nourished while there. One day a goose flew into my cave and spilled one whole jar all over the ground. I had planned to stay another week but now thanks to goosey I was down to a one-day supply and so I was planning to cut my retreat short and go home. I used to wake up at dawn every day to watch geese fly by at sunrise. The very next day after the spillage and I was surprised to find a spacecraft had landed in an area near the cave entrance. One of its crew asked me how was I doing for food and I told him I was running short. The craft departed and that night I ate the last of the food in my last jar and slept. When I woke up I found that the jar had been filled with food.""
""How did you speak to them?""
""I did not speak, I just knew what they were thinking and I just answered with my thought. We were just exchanging images! mental pictures.""
""Wow, thank you, sister Duc Huu, that's a wonderful story.""
""It's lovely to be here with the Stepping Stones today!"" smiled Sister Duc.
 
 
""Thank You Sister and now ladies and gentlemen it is time for us to have a lunch break and remember let's finish all our plates and leave them empty because we might get them filled again today, or next week"",
Excitedly. Gina got her phone out and said"" Jimmy! I think there is hope for us. Meet me in 20 mins at home"". 
""Gina! Who are you calling?""
""No one,"" said Gina, ""I am just practicing talking to the crew of a  spacecraft""
Gina continued and then repeated to herself the amount of money she needed.
The monk nun came up to her and said ""You do not need any words today, just send images to them of what you want. My experience was it comes in that form""
Gina headed back home all the time running through in her mind what she wanted.
 
Meanwhile, in the Conference room of the All-Domain Anomaly Resolution Office (ADARO) where its Monday public open meeting was in full swing, General Arnold Ranchmullen was lecturing everyone. ""The American people deserve to know what is happening in our skies. It is long overdue. Here's the news.. An alien craft landed in Oregon. Its crew members were injured during their flight around Earth. We could not repair their craft so they are resident with us now.""
 
When Ginny met Jimmy at their house she said
""Jimmy, I feel hopeful that something good is going to happen to us today""
""Like what?
""that we will be given a gift by the universe""
""a what?""
""a gift""
""Oh come on and how is that going to happen?""
""It will arrive in an alien spacecraft and the crew of the spacecraft will give us a blank check with their signature for a bank""
""but they don't have an account with an earthly bank""
""well they are smart and could easily have opened one through a secret connection with our money supply""
""How much do you think they might give us"" asked Jimmy with a sigh
""well you need $300 to replace the fuel injection system in your old car and we could do with another $900 to get us through Thanksgiving, so let's say we need a check for $ 1200"".  
""Ok say you think a flying saucer is going to land and we will have one of them get out and hand us a check for $1200""
""Yup, I know it is on the way""
""You know Gina, I think you should get your head examined""
""Why? Haven't you heard that there are aliens living on earth now and that they are friendly to us?""
""Friendly?""
""Yes, I read an interview published in the New Yorker where one of the two aliens said that she believes we all should help one another. Because they are more advanced than we are they want to help us get over all our problems. Yes and she said they helped the Aztec people when they got into trouble with their farms""
""How?""
""By pointing out to them where the best land was away from negative energy in the earth was""
""Ok, so how do we contact them?""
""We get together in a meditation outside the community center where the Stepping Stones meeting was today and just say ""we know you can do it, we need the money, and if you come to us we will be friendly to you.""
""and where are they going to land?""
""Let them work that out, they can fine-tune their own delivery of the things we ask for""
""ok so let's go there and sit down together"".
 
The Stepping Stones club had been started in the village community center and was attracting a lot of attention from villagers who were delighted to have a venue to express happiness. Their newsletter Happiness Tidbits published stories about happy endings to stories about boredom in village life. 
 
 Ginny and Jimmy went back to the Community Center and sat down on a rock together. All the others joined them and together they looked up at the sky and together said ""HElP US Friendly FOLKers! come here we need money and we would be grateful for a check for $1200""
And Zak added; ""you can come in any shape or form you want to, we will not be scared even if ye come in a pancake-shaped craft.""
Ginny said""wait! Before we start our meditation I have an idea! I like that story about how the jar filled up with food after the spacecraft and its crew left, so I have an idea. How about if we all put our money in a jar, like say two twenty dollar bills and some coins and leave it inside our community room and then go and meditate together outside for an hour, you know do our meditation. And then we go back in and see what happened.
 
The weather was perfect. The sun sparkled in the blue sky.
So they did that. Meditation was perfect. When they went back to the meeting room, the jars were still the same-there was no extra cash in them. 
But everybody had changed, because they had dreamt together that our universe was filled with hope.
 
","August 11, 2023 22:51",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,fi6rjx,LAVINIA’S WORLD,Julia Corliss,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/fi6rjx/,/short-story/fi6rjx/,Science Fiction,0,['Science Fiction'],3 likes,"
Lavinia knew all humans had enough food, clothing, and adequate shelter, as well as a livable water budget to stay clean and hydrated. Hers was a regulated world. Humans had all been told since birth that they would always have enough of the necessities to sustain life for the extent of their experiences on Earth in their lifetime. That was a given and never in doubt.Life had been this way since the arrival of the Helpers long ago. Lavinia now lived and studied at the Helpers’ well-established Institute of Seekers (IS). She was being taught to practice being respectful, responsible, and compassionate in all venues of her life while at IS and even beyond when she received her adult assignment. Being respectful, responsible, and compassionate were basic skills taught at IS. Upon graduation, an IS graduate was guaranteed an assignment within the infrastructure that regulated all humans on Earth and thus kept Earth functioning as a habitable planet. It had not always been thus. History was filled with stories of Earth before the Arrival of the Helpers. These were cautionary tales used to direct human minds, hearts, and energies on a trajectory based on global cooperation for sustainable management all earth’s resources for the common good of the human species everywhere on the planet. This was the way it was in Lavinia’s world.Lately, an odd thing had happened within the walls of IS. A whisper of a pernicious rumor was infecting the minds of some students with Doubt. It was only at the whisper stage, but was already quite unsettling to Lavinia. The rumor was circulating slowly, but steadily. In hushed tones it was saying that the guaranteed future after IS graduation was in question. Thus, the seed had been planted in her heart and mind that perhaps all was not as she and her fellow students had been told. No one knew how the rumor got started, but there it was, a seed of Doubt implanted within her mind. She had tried to dismiss it, but Doubt remained, challenging the Belief that was foundational to her world.The first thing Lavinia noticed was that Doubt brought forth that tricky term “evidence.” Questions arose in her mind. What evidence have you seen of the fulfillment of the IS promise? What evidence have you seen of working graduates? None was always the answer. The truth was that without other kinds of evidence, she was dependent on the Stories from the Story-Holders and on her intuitive abilities to sort out fact from fiction or opinion. She wrestled with these thoughts until she could wrestle no more and finally, fell into a deep, dreamless, but restorative sleep.Meanwhile, by the time she awoke the next day, the seed of Doubt had sprouted into a fragile but potentially powerful fracture in her Belief in the basics of the Healing Way she had been taught all these years of living and studying at IS. This was presenting a transformative conundrum. After all, at IS ultimate Truth was the inherent goal of all Seekers. She did a mental review of the history stories.History said that over ten thousand sun years after the Arrival of the Helpers on Earth, life had improved for the planet, humans and other species as well. The Helpers were benign beings from a far-away planet known as Ethos from the galaxy Zaraluz. These beings heard Earth’s vibrational cry for help across the galaxy boundaries and came to Earth to help. No one in her family lineage had ever traveled to Ethos, though during the last 1000 sun years, some intrepid space traveler pioneers had gotten close. Space hopping hadn’t been possible on Earth for very long, a couple of centuries she thought, maybe. Space pioneering wasn’t a beloved topic for her. Such feats as space hopping didn’t appear in any of the ancient text readings with which she was acquainted. She had read of mystical occurrences in those ancient texts, but not space hopping.She pushed her thoughts further. History told stories about how the Helpers began to regulate and mitigate human behaviors by adapting and adjusting their mindsets to be in alignment with the needs of the human species and the planet which supported them. The ills that had plagued humans for millennia on Earth were finally placed on a healing trajectory. History said that the Helpers knew that the healing of toxic human minds would lead to the healing of toxic human hearts and those healings would lead to the healing of the planet, which at the time of The Arrival, was teetering on the brink of becoming uninhabitable.And then, History said, “The Helpers arrived in a star shower, and the healing began.” There were so many stories of sacrifices and transformations about those times after the Arrival of the Helpers. There were stories of humans cleansing greed and hatred from their minds and hearts. Most of Lavinia’s favorite stories were about cleansed humans surrendering material goods and/or services as a means of aligning themselves with the powerful founding principles of sharing and caring. Thousands of stories were told about caches of essential and luxury goods being voluntarily donated to the Common Good Fund, which was managed by the Helpers during the transition time until IS was firmly entrenched, a sufficient number of humans had been cleansed vibrationally, and trained to assume management of the Common Good Fund. That had all been achieved seamlessly in the first 500 years after the Arrival. All the stories of humans before the Arrival had been passed down orally from generation to generation by the Official Story-Holders, a high-level assignment for IS graduates. Sometimes Lavinia had dreamed of becoming a Story-Holder. After the Arrival, stories had been added by Story-Holders all along the way right up to Lavinia’s present time. All the stories from After the Arrival ended with some version of the traditional ending: “And thus, so onward life traveled and Here we are Now.”The living humans and the stories they told and retold were the only evidence that the Helpers had come long ago to reset the minds and hearts of the humans which resulted thousands of years later in the regulated and healing world that Lavinia knew. All the Helpers left behind after their departure were their stories and the infrastructure for healing which they had established and nurtured. They left no technology nor written texts. Their work was on such a high vibratory rate that their knowledge was transferred by intuition and telepathy. IS was a significant part of that infrastructure for healing, and still running on intuitive and telepathic powers.Lavinia awoke with remnants of the dream stories she had experienced while sleeping still visible in her mind. These remnants evoked the personal story of her life at IS. She had been brought there as a very young child. Eventually, she had been told that her parents sacrificed their claim to her for the Greater Good. The mandated testing for potentially adept Seekers had revealed she had a very high score in that arena. Thus, she had arrived at the intake room of IS and ever since had been cared for, guided, taught a broad range of academic subjects, and trained in the principles and practices of the Healing Way of the Helpers. She was destined to live a life dedicated to the Helpers’ Principles of Wholeness and thereby continue to sustain and elevate the ongoing healing of the planet. In order to keep Earth habitable, all systems regulating humans and other species had to work as an integrated, positive whole. That task had become a duty of the Seekers.Lavinia accepted her destiny. However, when the question of evidence came up, she realized that her devotion to Destiny’s Truth depended on her Belief in the stories. There was no evidence outside of Belief. She was a Seeker-in-Training. She squared her shoulders and finished dressing by pulling on her boots. She had to walk about half a kilometer along a tree-lined path to reach the Morning Exercises Park where IS students gathered every morning for spiritual training and physical yogic exercise. This produced a vibrational energy up flow each morning that was essential in the continuous work of removing toxins from specified areas of earth and the humans living there.As she walked, Lavinia loosened her mind to dive deeper still into the significance of the appearance of Doubt in her sphere and its implantation in her mind. Perhaps, she thought, this recent occurrence of Doubt and questioning was actually part of her Seeker training. Surely, she wasn’t the first to Doubt. She thought about the basic maxim she learned experientially, early in her training: “It matters not what happens to you. What matters is how you respond to what happens.”As she analyzed what had happened, especially the rumor meant to produce Doubt in her mind and heart. She decided it had to be a built-in IS test to determine her readiness to level-up in her training. She pondered deeply how to neutralize and then expel Doubt from her mind and heart. Intuitively, she knew that was the response she needed and wanted to cultivate. She had to use the belief-strengthening techniques she had been taught at IS in order to work this toxin of Doubt out of her system. She knew Doubt could lead her to the precipice of unbelief in the Way of Wholeness and the Common Good Fund, and if not battled from within, ultimately over the precipice she would go into madness and obliteration of all hope of ever becoming a full fledged and vetted Seeker. Yes, this was a test. There was no place for Doubt in the mind and heart of a Seeker. Being a Seeker meant following the Principles of Wholeness.Principle #1: Believe healing is possible--healing of Self, healing of Others, and healing of the Planet.Principle #2: Do not give up. Strive.Principle #3: Do not surrender to the Darkness.Principle #4: Always lean closer and closer to the Light.Principle #5: Use the Helpers’ training and seek a compassionate way to sustain the positive change you wish to see in yourself and the world around you.Principle #6: Believe and you will find that compassionate way.Her teachers had taught her to follow these principles, and she would find what she sought. These principles would enable her to awaken others to the possibilities present here on Earth dedicated to the healing of human flaws like greed, selfishness, lying, hate, intolerance of biological diversity and lust for control that had brought Earth to the brink of being uninhabitable, which was where Earth’s situation stood when the Helpers arrived.As Lavinia neared the Morning Exercise Park, all her thinking made her decide to immediately begin the belief-strengthening exercises that morning. After all, the Helpers had come and shown her ancestors the way that compassionate healing and clear understanding could be responsibly applied to any problem to root out toxins great and small. Her ancestors had worked devotedly with the Helpers, and together over time, Earth and her humans were healing. The work continued. Balance was being monitored and restored in real time. Lavinia was part of that work. She was grateful that the Helpers had come and stayed long enough to teach the humans how to keep planet Earth habitable. The fact that they turned the work over to well-trained Seekers only added to her gratitude. It was good to know that she and other occupants of Earth were not alone in the vastness of this inter-galactic universe.She took her place amongst her other Seekers-in-Training on the brilliant green clover lawn of the Morning Exercise Park and began the belief-strengthening exercises to remove the toxin of Doubt from her being. As she practiced, she could feel the vibrational energy of Belief in the Stories and in the Way of Wholeness expanding within her. She knew that she would ultimately prevail and succeed in banishing Doubt from her heart and mind.She left the Morning Exercise Park determined, nourished, and very uplifted. She knew she would continue to strive, always lean closer and closer to the Light, and never ever give up until she was free of all Doubt. Only time would tell how long it would take. She would persevere to victory.
","August 12, 2023 01:40",[]
prompt_0030,Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.,gtg6we,SR5608,Tanya Humphreys,https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/gtg6we/,/short-story/gtg6we/,Science Fiction,0,"['Fiction', 'Fantasy', 'Friendship']",3 likes,"
The tall, thin woman scanned the crowd from right to left, then back again. There were approximately nine hundred and fifty-seven human beings crowded into the town square, give or take a dozen. It was harder to inventory the little ones, they darted in and out and around the main throng. Also hindering the count was the fact that over two thirds of the people wore black- black cloaks, capes, feathers, tunics, smocks, dresses, and pantaloons.
 
She herself had donned a silky hooded cape to fit in. She’d adjusted her skin tone to a light tawny bronze color in an effort to blend in with the indigenous race of the city. 
Though the general sentiments of the people were of mourning and profound loss, there was the underlying feeling of the excitement of a special occasion: the learning centers were closed, the shops and offices were closed, restaurants were closed but many restaurateurs had set up small shacks erected to provide snacks and refreshments. The men in the long black robes that led the procession scowled at the capitalists, but the day was hot. A few of the scowlers even glared at the sky as if thinking, how dare this day be so fine and cloudless?
 
The tall woman pulled the hood from her shoulder length chestnut hair in order to hear better. Her ears were like radar dishes. She tuned out the fast-flowing river of voices and gave attention to the distinctive sound of the girl’s gait.
A man nearly knocked her over. “Hey watch where you’re goin!”
The edges of her lips curled upwards just as a real human’s would, as she bit back a scalding response. After all, it was he who had not been watching where he was going. He was a mere distraction, as insignificant as a flea on her knee. She continued to scan the crowd.
 
***
 
‘Don’t forget to blink.’ The voice of my master softly said inside my head.
I blinked. There were so many things to remember. Not blinking every few seconds was weird.
‘Turn thirty-eight degrees to your left.’
I did so. And detected the girl’s footfalls. I tuned in and the ocean of voices and clanks and clicks and hoofbeats and rustling fabric ceased.
 
Pat…shhhp, pat…shhhp, pat…shhhp.
 
The girl had been born with a club foot. Braces had straightened the leg, but her ankle remained fused, her left foot may as well have been made of wood. She was thirteen years old, and small for her age. Though her androgynous, willowing body looked frail, she held her head high. Her dark sienna hair was long and muti-braided and adorned with crow feathers. She wore a rosy tint on her lips, her dark eyes focused straight ahead and at the backs of the priests before her. 
A handsome, middle-aged woman on her left side bent and whispered something to her. Upon detecting her in the crowd, the sounds of the crowd rushed back like water over a damn, and I was unable to hear what the woman had said. I adjusted my hood back over my hair.
The petite princess nodded, her face a disconsolate mask, as fresh tears leaked from her eyes.
The woman was her aunt, the king’s sister. His wife had died the year before and not remarried. Though in my observations of the palace, I’d spied young, attractive women furtively being led by guards through the gate at the rear that led into the kitchen. 
 
I followed, weaving around of folks, until directly behind the girl’s aunt.
As we came upon the burial ground gates, Princess Katori looked nervously behind her.
 
Her aunt said, “They will only let two hundred into the grounds, as per my request. Do not fret. We are nearly there.”
 
Katori nodded and visibly relaxed, letting out the deep breath she’d been holding. “I wish Uncle Bari were here.”
 
“He’d be here if he could. The Grecian mission is one your father initiated; Bari will see it through until the pact is set in stone. He will make it up to you when he returns.”
 
‘I’m sure he will.’ I thought sarcastically to myself. I knew Duke Bari was here somewhere, lurking in some dark hole like a fat crunchy spider. ‘Can he see the tall thin woman in the black cape holding hands with a sad little girl? Hmf. With out a doubt.’ 
 
The dozen priests, like ominous, looming black vultures, reached the gates and parted to let us through. Amongst the first twenty people through were family, then came courtiers, educators, the holey women-seers, alchemists. The black garbed crowd swarmed the gravesite. The priests looked on, standing next to the guards. As the grassy expanse surrounding the royal graveyard filled, the priests started turning people away, yaying or naying, as the press of bodies came on.
 
So hard was I concentrating on imitating the humans’ expressions- and blinking appropriately- I jumped in my lab manufactured skin when the little girl took my hand. I looked down and beheld the entire human race’s redeeming qualities in one small and ethereally beautiful face. I smiled carefully, not full wattage, I’d learned that that frightened people and was still working that whole expressions thing out.
Katori smiled back. It was the first time I’d ever seen her smile. I also realized that, unlike young people her age, she had no friends. She looked away quickly as her aunt spoke to her. “The empire is watching, child, quit grinning like a fool.”
 
Through the small hand in mine, I felt her tremble and detected her anger. It was gone in a fleeting second and I was truly in admiration of this small human. She had such control, such poise. I knew she was being groomed to be ruler in approximately six years, as her father had been before her, and his mother before him…and so on.
 
But I knew secrets I intended to keep from her. And I would keep them…unless asked of me directly, for an android can not lie. It’s where my alien makers either drew the line or hadn’t advanced my model type to be able to. Hence the coaching in my head. This was my first assignment after all. 
 
The crowd was silently listening to the dirge-like preachings and chanting along when prompted. I found it all very hypnotic and rather fascinating. Stupid, but fascinating, like the last thoughts of a deer in the headlights. 
 
My higher power are my creators. The scientists of Alaxor, a planet two light years Northwest of Pluto, have ultimate control over my entire being. If discovered, they have the ability to have me self-destruct, like a piece of evidence discovered by a spy. They are with me at all times. The more time I spend here on Earth, the more I am developing…um…issues. Just the fact that I said um, hits the nail on the head.
 
The funeral was winding down like a spiral into a quagmire of grief. The people had loved their king. They believed he was good. They believed he had developed and maintained a prosperous land for them. I saw through bullshit politics, saw the real agenda. And had acted for the best of this race’s future. I had been created to be a protector.
 
We shared a look as the dirge of depressing hymns were sang. The look was one like a groan. We both squashed the urge to giggle at the absurdity we displayed. Yay! It was over, time to go home now…
…my thoughts were interrupted by Princess Katori saying, “Thank you.”
“No problem” I said.
She smiled and my circuits glowed.
The crowd swelled past the gates. The people were now partying; celebrating the king’s accomplishments and the bright future they perceived in his lineage. Though the businesses were not allowed to open, the sellers of food and drink in the streets had doubled. The general vibe was intoxication and revelry and anticipation.
 
 I too, felt anticipation. But it was not joyful. Mine was controlled rage, I focused it like a laser beam, seeking the murderous fiend. 
 
We were again herded through the square and streets. Vulture-like priests in the lead. Interesting how people steered away from them automatically. Guards everywhere and people relaxing as they headed towards the main square where I’d first found the princess, then beyond to where the palace sat like a fat, gem encrusted toad.
 
Katori let my hand go when her aunt turned to face her. She raised a hand in goodbye on the sly. I nodded my understanding and stepped back into the crowd. Her and her aunt and a pair of guards headed towards the palace. I followed, scanning the rooftops and second story window arches.
 
The voice in my head said, ‘danger SR5608, armed mode.’ My eyes flashed red under my hood. 
 
I caught the glint of the setting sun’s light reflected off a metal shaft. The human spider lurked in the deepening shadows of a second story portico. I deduced the shaft to be a crossbow arrow.
I turned my radar on and aimed at the small, roofed archway…the noise of the revelers faded. The guards were animatedly talking to the aunt, distracting her.
I homed in on the single noise and spotted the assassin just as he was poised to dispatch the arrow from the crossbow.
‘click…whzzz’
 
 I was a blur as I leapt into the air, my legs like uncoiled springs. My silken cape swirled around me and floated down over the princess as I landed directly in front of her, crouching protectively. The entire assignation attempt had taken two seconds. I covered her mouth with my hand and uncaped my head. Her eyes were wide, her face milk pale.
 
“Sssh…okay?” I said.
She nodded, her expression not one of fright, but of horror. She pointed at my head. I understood then and reached a hand to the side of my head where I found the nasty little deadly projectile solidly embedded.
 
“Y-you’ve got an arrow. In your head.”
I plucked it out and quickly pocketed it as her aunt turned back to us. Katori’s eyes fluttered as if she were about to faint. I shook her shoulders and said, “You are strong. I am fine.” She started to put the lightning-fast events in place. Anger, confusion, and disbelief. 
 
She looked up around at the buildings around us but her aunt swooped in.
“Unhand that child this instant! Guards!”
The men approached and attempted to assess the situation. I said to the girl, “Do you trust me?”
She nodded.
 
As the men raised their swords, I swooped up the little girl. Jets sprung from my back and calf shields; we were airborne and whizzing away too fast for us to hear the crowd’s reaction. My cape caught fire and sizzled away, the charred fragments like bat ghosts wheeling away. I smelled burning leather and knew my tunic and leggings would go next.
Katori trembled in my arms. I said, “Do not be afraid…”
“…I’m not afraid…this is the best thing EVER!”
I laughed and she put her arms out and said, “Wheeeeeeeeee!” At last, a little girl again.
We flew for forty minutes: over a vast river, a crisp yellow plain, and blueish grey foothills adorned with white and yellow wildflowers. I curved us over a mountain range until we approached the giantest one. I felt a scream building in her lungs. “Hey kiddo…” I hugged her tighter and the scream wheezed out like air from a bellows.
I slowed to half speed as a rocky face on an outcrop slid away sideways, revealing a dark cavern.
“Oh,” she said like a mouse.
I couldn’t resist as we landed on the outcrop and said, “Ta da!”
Her thin legs wobbled as I put her down, but I kept her upright and she recovered her equilibrium as rapidly as I’d expected. This one was a fireball of life-force for certain.
I took her hand and led her into my home on Earth.
Soft, velvety amber lighting alit before us as we traversed from corridor to corridor. At one nook in the cave wall, I asked if she was hungry. She said, “No, but I am thirsty.”
I thought for a second then pressed a few buttons on what was my kitchen wall. In the small vestibule resembling a microwave oven, something that would not be invented for 226 years, a crystal glass appeared, it filled with a brown fizzing liquid.
“Try this, it’s my favorite,” I said, handing her the glass.
She didn’t even hesitate to sip. “Ooh…tickles my nose. It’s sweet. And really good…”
“It’s called Dr. Pepper. You may never have it again, it won’t be invented until 1885. All right, c’mon, we need to talk.”
“Can you make anything in that thing?”
“Well…yes. But I don’t actually make it. My masters do. I’ll explain about them. Come.”
 
 
***
 
 
I had led her deeper into my cave home. We reclined on comfy pillows (after I’d put on new clothes) and talked throughout the night.
She soaked up my words like a sponge. I told her about my planet, my alien masters, my mission… she’d said, “But why me? I’m heir in six years and the people are happy.”
“There’s someone who does not want to see you take the throne…”
“Uncle Bari?”
I nodded.
“It was he who shot you, trying for me.”
I nodded again.
“But why? I’m to be married to his son, Frankel…” her shoulders drooped again.
“You do not like this person?”
She looked at me in the eyes for a few seconds, then said, “No. I find him repulsive. I like no one and have no friends.” Her lower lip pouged out like a child’s, it was nice. “Except for one…a guard. He’s fifteen and super cute.”
I rolled my eyes and she laughed and swatted my arm.
I grew serious. “Your country needs you. You are destined for greatness. You will lead your people into a new horizon that is different from the one your aunt and uncle see. Theirs is one of war and so much death.”
“It was my uncle that shot at me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And my aunt knew about it, that’s why she left my side just then.”
“Yes.”
“You can not tell a lie, can you?”
I was taken by surprise. “No.”
“It was you that killed my father.”
I cringed like a human would. “Yes. I had to…”
She got up and I stood too. She said, “I’m tired.” 
I tried to put an arm around her, but she sluiced away and said, “leave me be, please.”
I showed her to my guest room. I asked her if she wanted any food or more soda. She closed the door slowly in my face.
 
 
***
 
The next morning, Katori came into the kitchen nook where the microwave-looking-thing was and I was waiting. She came in holding the Steif teddy bear I had laid on her pillow. She was still small- petite- and a weariness had settled in her. 
I had seen her dreams. I didn’t like spying, but my masters forced me to keep tabs. 
She had seen the truth in them and try as I might to predict a human’s moves in the next few seconds, I simply could not. Perhaps another android a decade or two after me could…but no.
She sat at the two-person table. I’d erected it just for her visit. 
She said, “Eggs, soft boiled, two please. And some spinach wilted on a biscuit. Boiled ham too, with some maple jelly…please.”
I fell in love with her then. This child-queen. I felt all the danger and woes had been worth it. I still had a mission to see to its end, but the hardest part was complete.
The killing would be easy.
Princess Katori said, “Please make it fast and painless.” 
“I always do.”
“And promise me we can go flying again.”
She knew if I said yes, I’d be committed to it. I said, “of course.”
She smiled and ate her breakfast, holding her bear. She said when she was halfway through, “Oh, by the way, I’ve named him SR5608.”
","August 12, 2023 02:54","[[{'Tanya Humphreys': ""I wrote this one Thursday and Friday, cuz I love alien stories. There will be errors cuz I did it so fast. I submitted this puppy four minutes before the deadline...it's the equivalent of running through an airport with all your bags..."", 'time': '03:01 Aug 12, 2023', 'points': '1'}, []]]"