Startled, she stared at the stranger as he slid into the booth across from her. She wanted to be alone but something about the way she was being watched kept her silent. The stranger didn’t speak as the waitress came over and poured a hot cup of coffee for each of them. As she moved away, the stranger leaned forward and drew in a deep breath of the aroma wafting up from the cup. Setting it back on the table he looked at her once more “you look tired.” She scoffed. Who did he think he was? “Thanks” she said sarcastically. “Really. You look like you’ve been through a lot, seen a lot, like you’ve lost a lot.” She shook her head looking out the window. She saw the reflection of an annoyed smile gracing her features. This guy thought he knew so much; well, she would tell him about loss, about being tired. She looked back at him and sat back in her seat. His stare was all the more intense, like he really wanted to hear her story, so with a deep breath she launched into it.
“Time doesn’t hold the same meaning for me anymore. I use to relish each day as a new adventure, life was full of work and play and friends, but now it is just death. Every day is just more death. I tried to escape it. I sold everything and disappeared from the world. I’ve separated myself from everyone, especially those I love, to be here. At least the death I experience here has less of a tug, and it is the tug that is so difficult to resist. I can walk with you right up to that last point, completely ready to turn back. But when you let go, I cannot. I want to keep hold of you, stay with you, till your journey’s end but I can’t, and every time you leave me it is like another piece of my soul, of what makes me human, is being pulled away. I’ll tell you, honestly, each one is hard to experience but the most terrible, was the first. The first time I experienced death, it truly felt like I was dying.
“She was 3 years, 2 months, 14 days, 57 minutes old and in the car next to me. We were stopped at a light, she on the way to daycare and me to work. I only glanced over for a second, she was staring at me. I waved, she waved back, and that was it. The light changed, and we went on our merry ways, at least that is what I thought. As the car she rode in turned away, I caught a glimpse of the mom smoking with the windows shut tight. For the next 15 minutes, I couldn’t get the stench of cigarette smoke out of my nose. I thought it was just out of concern for the little girl, Lydia, and when the air cleared around me I continued with my day. Lydia was out of sight, out of mind.
“At 11:00 am that morning, in the middle of a rather important sales meeting with my firm’s largest client, I peed myself. And instead of the mortification I should have felt, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of great satisfaction. The mortification finally came when I had to stand and leave the meeting so I made a big show of spilling my cold coffee on my skirt. Luckily, I always keep an extra suit on hand. Around 2:00 that same day I passed out. It wasn’t like fainting; it came over me suddenly and my head started bobbing. I lost focus and barely made it to the sofa before I was out cold. When I woke up two hours later I was in the fetal position with my thumb in my mouth. I left work early that day. I thought maybe I’d been working too hard, I just needed to relax. It was later that evening that I died…for the first time.
“I had just laid down on my bed when I could again smell cigarette smoke however, this time it was stronger, like a cloud of noxious gas suffocating me. I rose to locate the source but it never got stronger or weaker. I couldn’t escape. I tried walking out to the balcony for fresh air but nothing changed. I tried to take deep breaths to clear my airway, but it only made things worse. I tried loosening my clothes as I walked for the phone to call for help, but I never made it. My ears began to roar and then my vision tunneled until there was only black. When I came to I was sprawled on the floor, soaking from my own sweat. Finally, I found the strength to pull myself up, and I went to my neighbors to have them drive me to the ER. The doctors listened to what I had to say and checked me thoroughly but to no avail. The final theory was that I had an allergic reaction and that I was just damn lucky for a miraculous recovery.
When I was discharged I had every intention of going directly to a friend’s house for the night, but then I passed her room. She was unconscious and hooked up to breathing tubes with weeping parents nearby. Lydia. I couldn’t help it; I was drawn to her. No one seemed to notice or care as I stepped into the room. “The silence was deafening. I could see the blip of the monitor and the lips of her parents moving, but everything remained void of sound. When I reached the side of the bed I looked down to see Lydia’s tiny, pristine features were set in stone. I knew there was no coming back, that her last moments were passing, so I reached out my hand to hold hers. I don’t know why, if it was to comfort her or myself, but I stood there and waited till she finally looked up at me. I felt like it was my responsibility to be there with her. I realized then that what I felt all day was what she was feeling and that I needed to be there with her those last few moments before it would end. Nobody noticed, or tried to stop us as we left that room, together hand in hand, and ventured down the hall to the stairwell. I still don’t understand how I know where to go, but I always seem to find the door. That particular door normally would have led to the roof. We stood there for a moment until I felt her squeeze my hand. I looked down at her and knew it was time but I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t know what was waiting on the other side of that door. I still don’t.
“Lydia looked back at me with confidence and the countenance of someone much older. So I let go and she took those last steps to the door alone. When she stepped through she didn’t look back. They never look back. I didn’t wait long before I turned to leave. When I hit the pediatrics floor I ventured past her room again. I was just in time to see them unplug the machines and lift the sheet to cover her empty body. It was there that I actually learned how she died. Emphysema, if you can believe it, brought on by secondhand smoke inhalation. Her small lungs finally gave up because they were too saturated in tar; that is why, together, we suffocated.
“That was my first and it was after my fifth experience like this that I left my own life behind. You know it’s hard, being human. I can’t always be there with them, and that is worse than the tug, the pain I feel when one leaves without me being there; when they have to find the door on their own.”
She pushed the drink away from herself and wiped the tears from her eyes. She remembered the stranger sitting across from her and slowly brought her gaze up to meet his. “I’m sorry,” she said with an embarrassed choke, “you must think I’m some loony, sitting here baring my soul with some fantastic story to a complete stranger.” The eyes of the other looked back at her with compassion and then the stranger leaned forward. He reached across the table and wrapped her hands in a warm embrace. “Soon you will experience your last death,” he whispered. Her hands were released and the stranger stood to leave. She watched in silent bewilderment as money was laid on the table to cover the bill, and she was once again alone.
Back at her cabin she lit a fire in the hearth and curled up in large chair with a blanket to enjoy its warmth. It wasn’t long before she dozed off. For the first time in a long time she didn’t dream and feel deep into a slumber of perfect silence. When she finally woke it was to a dark room. The fire had burned so low that only a glow of embers remained. She stretched once and then turned to the window to see if morning was near. But instead of the sun she was greeted by the stranger from the bar looking down at her. Instead of fear, she felt calm and relieved. She reached out and took the hand being offered her, allowing herself to be lead out the door and across the snow laden field into the woods. Together they walk for what felt like hours until they came to a door in the side of a burnt-out trailer. She looked from the door to her companion who was looking at her with the same compassion from before. “Do not be afraid. For you this is not an end but the beginning. Your purpose is greater than to sit at the bedside of death; it is you who will walk someone along the path in between; to the door of their next journey. Go on. I will be here when you return.” She reached out and firmly gripped the door knob. Like everyone before her, she did not look back as she passed through.
Angel, is from my published collection ‘Beginnings’. This book showcases some of my earlier writing and is available at Amazon.com.
Tristan lost track of how far into the bowels of the ship they were taken. It seemed like they were traveling ever upwards. Eventually their trajectory shifted and instead of upward they moved forward through an open doorway, where their alien captors came to rest on a metal floor. The jointed legs opened up and deposited Angor and Tristan there, before sauntering away to a dark corner. Quick to their feet Tristan and Angor brushed themselves off and looked around at their new surroundings and the beings who stared back. Tristan had been going through a constant shift of fight or flight emotions, since they had left the Galactic Prime Minister election pageant, and once again fight was kicking in. He felt anger rising in him and began to move forward to demand answers, but with his first step the floor fell away beneath him.
The drop wasn’t far, maybe 10 feet, but the floor where he landed seemed to absorb his impact keeping him from harm. He jumped up, hoping to leap high enough to stop the doors from closing above his head. Was this to be his new prison. He looked around at the white walls and floor. It was bright, like the light emanated from behind the stark surfaces. A clicking sound caught his attention and he noticed multiple small holes opening in the walls. He thought to move closer and see what might be beyond, but as he approached a buzzing sound made him pause. It got louder and closer until a swarm of flying red creatures poured out in mass. The pod became flooded with the tiny creatures. Tristan tried to ward them off with flailing arms, but they were all over him. He felt no stings or bites, but he knew they were doing damage. He could feel the pressure of them hitting him and then the cold touch of them on his skin. As quick as they had come they disappeared. Looking down he was mortified to find that he was naked. The insects, as he thought of them, had devoured his clothing and left him completely in the nude. His shock had barely set in when the floor beneath him once again opened and he was falling.
This fall was more like a slide as he passed through a short chute to a new pod. It was completely the same, with white walls that glowed with light. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he spun around waiting for what was next. Again a clicking sound and small openings appeared in the walls at chest level. This time, instead of bugs, a thick liquid poured out. He tried to jump and climb to stay above as the pod filled higher, but when the liquid crested the bottom of the openings from where it flowed, it stopped. The color was a dark pink that obscured his view of what lay beneath. So he was unaware of the creatures that had swum in through openings in the base of the pod until they began to rub up against him. There had to be at least 20 of them in there with him. They swam quickly, back and forth, brushing up against him, and causing the liquid around them to get agitated and create foam. He tried to keep them away but they were aggressive with some leaping from the water to swipe at his head. Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. The liquid began to subside and any evidence of the creatures with it. He was left where he stood, shrouded in foam.
He breathed heavily and hoped it was over. He looked to the floor thinking it would open again, but instead arms dropped from the ceiling. They looked strangely familiar and made him think of fire hose nozzles. This moment of recognition was quickly confirmed when they sprung to life with a spray of water. It was a powerful spray that pushed him off his feet and onto the floor. He tried to cover his head and body with no success. The water was everywhere, hitting every nook and cranny he had until he was again bare to the world. When the water stopped Tristan laid there, curled up, shivering and wet. He was exhausted and out of sorts, so this time when the floor opened he didn’t even respond, he just allowed gravity to pulled him down into the next pod.
The air here was already blowing when he arrived. It was warm and gave a little life back to him. His skin and hair dried and his goosebumps disappeared. He stood up basking in the comfort of it. He had to admit that he felt better, bathed and refreshed. At least he would be clean, even if he was a captive. He looked around this new pod. The walls were no longer white but a soft orange. It made him think of a toaster oven, but he wasn’t going to complain. All he wanted now was some clothing and to have someone to explain where he was. He was about to shout out, in the hopes that someone was listening, when the floor opened once more. He was prepared to land in another pod, so when he found himself free falling through the air he was surprised. His fall ended in the embrace of a net.
Annoyed he laid there glaring at the doors that were shutting above him. He didn’t want to look around, he just wanted this nightmare to stop and to wake up back in his hotel room. He was ready to swear off drinking and any other substance that could inhibit his self-control. His thoughts moved to the present and the dire situation he was in. He had no concept of how to move forward, no suggestions for a plan of attack, he was just being pulled from one horrific situation to the next with no control over the outcome. His only motivation was to survive. Focused as he was on his inner turmoil he didn’t notice the figure moving below him until it was too late. To his left the net suddenly plunged sharply causing him to roll out and dropped to the floor where he laid on his stomach with fists clenched trying to gain control over his anger.
“Are you what all humans look like?” The question made him laugh. He rolled over to look at Angor. His breath entered sharply as his gaze fell upon her and he was reminded they were without clothes. Her form was clearly that of a woman, though covered in a soft layer of curly hair. Her small frame looked solid with toned muscles. His eyes ran over her top to bottom and then stopped at her hooves. He hadn’t noticed before, but it made sense, her presence reminded him that he was not among people like him. He stood up and chuckled once more. “Yeah, we all pretty much look like this, with a few minor differences between male and female.” Her gaze was curious as she inspected his body. He could feel the heat rise up his neck and into his cheeks as he remembered just how naked he was. Feeling exposed and vulnerable he began looking for somewhere to hide, or something to cover himself with.
A deep gravelly voice interrupted the awkward moment and brought their attention down to a short figure that had approached. The creature reminded Tristan of a Mr. Potato Head and Pac-Man hybrid. The face took up the majority of the body with feet below a round frame and arms extended upward. It was holding out garments for the prisoners to don before being escorted to where they would wait for their host. Tristan choose one that was burnt orange with flecks of yellow, Angor choose taupe. The pants were wide legged and flowing. The tunics long and sleeveless. When he held them up he thought they were much to large, but was surprised as he put them on as they shrunk to a perfect fit. “You’ll want these,” the face said as it thrust slippers at them, “now follow me.” As it turned to waddle away it retracted its arms so that only the hands were visible. The sight again brought a smile to Tristan’s face and he settled into a new feeling of calm.
Through multiple corridors they walked, each illuminated by a different color. Their guide explained that it served 2 purposes. The first was for wayfinding, each color signifying a different amenity that might be needed. The second was more subtle. The color would adjust in intensity depending on the occupants emotional needs. The ship was always trying to maintain an atmosphere of calm productivity. Tristan found this interesting, but only partially paid attention, he wasn’t interested in wayfinding as he already knew escape would be futile. Where could he go? Instead he just let his senses enjoy the walk. He took in the sights of creatures who were new to him. The sounds of low conversations murmured around him, not close enough for the nanobots to interpret, becoming his only exposure to the sounds of foreign languages. The moment he tried to focus in on one, it became understandable.
The walk came to an abrupt end when they entered a large arena, it reminded Tristan of a mall’s food court. In the very center was a circular counter. As they approached it platforms raised out of the floor, 3, to provide seats. “Here is where you will await your host.” The head turned and briskly waddled away leaving Tristan and Angor stranded. They each took a seat. Tristan let out the breath he seemed to have been holding, and then rested his head in his hand. He massaged his temples and his cheekbones with exhausted annoyance. Looking down at the counter he asked “so what do we do now?” “We wait.” He looked over his shoulder at her profile “that’s it? We Wait?” “Yes.” He could feel his blood boiling again. He wanted to erupt in anger but then stopped. Recognition flooded his mind as he saw a figure sitting a few seats past Angor. It was a man, human, dressed in a blue suit.
“Excuse me, do I know you?” The man didn’t respond. “Hey” he shouted “hey you, sir, do I know you?” The man looked over and winked before turning back to the glass in his fingers. Tristan started to stand, but Angor put a hand over his “are you ok?” He didn’t move his eyes away from the man, “I’m fine I just want answers.” “What can I get you?” The voice came from a wall of a man. He was at least 6 feet across and wearing a bar tender’s apron. Two arms came out of the center of his chest with 2 more on each side. “What?” was all Tristan could stammer before turning back to the man in blue. To his shock and disappointment the man was gone. He began to scan the room, there was no way he could have disappeared so fast. “To drink, what do you want to drink” the man was asking. Angor pulled Tristan’s attention back to her. “What is happening? Are you going crazy? You are acting like a skittish fluffernunny.” The term focused him “WHAT?” “A fluffernunny, it’s a long rodent with long ears. When it nears death it goes kind of crazy, screeching at things not there and then running amuck until it drops dead.” “Are you about to drop dead?” He scoffed, “No.” “Good, then let’s order a drink and wait for our host.” She turned back to the counter. Tristan didn’t pay attention to the order, he was still scanning the room for the man in blue.
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The hotel was one of those sketchy ones, buried deep on the back roads away from the highway. Jack hadn’t intended to stop but with the fog rolling in, heavy and blinding, he was left with no choice. The couple who owned it were nice enough. They even invited him to enjoy dinner with them. He smiled at the idea, but wasn’t a fan of small talk, and he really didn’t want to share anything about his trip. So he accepted a prepared plate and then settled into his room for the night. At first he held out hope that the fog would be short lived, like low lying clouds in this part of the mountain, but as his car disappeared under a blanket of rolling whiteness his plans for a quick departure disappeared.
He didn’t have much with him, having left home in a rush, so entertainment was left to a small TV in the corner with an antenna for reception. He picked up the remote and hit power while he found a comfortable spot on the bed. As he had expected the TV fired up, but instead of local channels all he found was static snow. He flipped through a few but only found the same thing. About to give up he flipped once more and was surprised to find a grainy image breaking through. He wasn’t 100% sure what he was seeing, but the sounds accompanying it gave him a clear idea. For lack of anything better he allowed the sounds of heavy breathing and moans fill the room and be his distraction. It helped that he recognized some of the music and knew this was a movie he was familiar with; he could imagine the images hidden behind the snow. He relaxed a little further into the bed.
His mind wandered away with the sound lulling him into a sleep he hoped would be filled with erotic dreams. Images began to form, soft curves moving towards him and then a caress. Colors began to blend into flesh tones as his brain took over providing the image, and his visions gained more focus. Until… He bolted upright in bed. The murmured tones of passion had been replaced by overpowering static. Frustrated he got up and attempted to fix the reception. The antenna was easy enough to move about and he tried every angle, but there was no luck. He decided to give it a few more tries before turning it off for good.
He lifted the small unit and moved it to the other corner of the television hoping it might put him closer to the source signal. This seemed to do the trick because he could once again hear voices, but different, and he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He wiggled the antenna a little more and then “don’t know if it will work. I don’t think we’ll get through.” “All we can do is try, what is his name again?” “Jack, I think it is Jack.” Jack moved to the front of the unit and stared at the screen. The snow was still heavy but he thought he could make out two figures buried beneath. “Hello?” He said, feeling a bit crazy in the moment. They didn’t respond but kept talking to each other. “We have to warn him. If Jack doesn’t leave now, he’ll never escape them.” Jack laughed to himself, it was a common enough name, he must have picked up a different program. He turned off the TV and went to the bathroom to relieve himself.
He hadn’t turned on the light, so when his shadow appeared on the wall before him he jumped and peed on the floor. Cussing he grabbed a towel off the rack to clean up the mess and himself before realizing that it was the TV causing the illumination. He walked up to it confused. There were no voices, just snow, so he turned it off again. It came back on. He tried again with the same result. Figuring it was something faulty with the old device; he unplugged it from the wall and returned to bed.
He was again drifting off with heavy breathing and heavy eyes. He could feel himself sinking into the pillow as the thoughts in his head dissolved into oblivion. Darkness was closing in around him. It must have been only moments, and then he was jolted awake as his room was once again illuminated with the static snow of the television. It was louder this time. As though the sound was being created in the room instead of coming through the speakers. He jumped up, staring in disbelief, and then straining to hear the voices that were once again audible behind the snow. “Jack, Jack can you hear me?” Jack looked around the room. “Jack, look at the TV, we need you to focus.” Jack laughed. He thought about wheeling the television set to just outside his door. “Nice, this is some elaborate prank.” “THIS IS NOT A PRANK!” The voice yelled while slapping an open palm against the inside of the screen causing the unit to shift.
“Shit!” was all Jack could say as he stumbled backwards and fell over the corner of the bed. He stared in shocked silence. “Jack, Jack Spenser, you have to leave. Leave now, you have no time. They are coming for you. Run, RUN!” The voice was adamant, Jack jumped from the floor grabbing his jacket and keys from the table. He didn’t even think about his shoes. He just threw open the door to run for his car and hit the road, be damned the fog.
He came up short, when he found his way blocked by two figures. They were backlit by the light just behind them so he couldn’t make out their features. He was only aware of the low brimmed black hats and the long black trench coats. He tried to focus on the faces before him to make out features, desperate for recognition and an end to this surreal moment. A movement in the distance between them caught his attention. Another figure was emerging from the fog, dressed in the same fashion. This was the last thing he saw as a black bag was thrown over his head and his world was lost in darkness.
The smaller of the figures took the bag all the way to the floor before sweeping it closed and pulling it over their shoulder. They turned and walked away to retreat into the fog. The second, taller one, took a step inside. They had been aware of additional, familiar, voices but upon inspection of the room only found the TV alive with static snow. They walked over and bent down, smiling into the white glow of the screen, with long fingers they reached up and turned the unit off. As they walked out they collected anything that would have left evidence of Jack’s presence before closing the door and disappearing into the fog. It was an hour later when the old woman decided to check on their guest. She walked into the registration office and was surprised to find his plate, room key, and a letter. He was thanking them for their hospitality, but now that the fog had lifted he had to be on his way. She walked out the door and was greeted with a clear sky, brilliantly lit with stars and moon. She smiled at his good fortune and wished him the best of luck before returning to her chair in front of the radio.
The light that had caught Tristan’s attention was moving in an erratic pattern beneath the ship, until it finally broke away and moved downward. He was caught, entranced by the sight, until he realized it was picking up speed and heading directly for them. He turned and raced back into the throng of warriors milling about their fallen leader. “We have to move, there are more coming.” No one really paid him much heed all beginning the process of mourning. He tried to get their attention, but each of the frog men were turning to the sky with closed eyes. He continued to shout at them, but instead of responding they began to fill their throat bags with air and then proceeded to let out a lingering, melodious, croak. They rotated in chorus and filled the night air with their sorrow. He turned to Angor whose head was still bowed over the that of the king’s. Her lips were still moving in a silent prayer. Splashing forward he reached out to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and then redirecting her attention over his shoulder. Thrusting his hand into the air he pointed and then recoiled in fear. The single light had multiplied and they were almost upon them.
Tristan jumped back up, trying to get the attention of the others around him but they were oblivious to his shouts. He grabbed at the arm of the one closest to him, but was rewarded with a sharp shove to the chest which sent him backwards into the water. Suddenly a shout of surprise brought his attention back to Angor. He found her grasping at the king who had begun to sink into the water. He wanted to help but the frog men moved in to stop them both and let the water take the dead into its embraced. There were no ripples as he sunk below, just the constant croaking howl echoing through the woods. Then there was silence. The sudden change was deafening. Tristan’s ears felt plugged with pressure as though everything had been stifled by a vacuum. He looked around for reason and came face to face with stone faces of the frog men. They were frozen in place like barked over statues standing guard for eternity at the resting place of their king. Tristan and Angor were now alone.
The lights could be seen breaking through the trees, slowing as they slid beneath the canopy to be within feet of landing. Tristan grabbed Angor by the hand and began to run. He didn’t know what direction they were taking, just that they had only moments. They were away from the battle field when he heard the splashes as the new attackers landed. He didn’t know what chance they had. While they both had nanobots to help them survive in foreign environments he knew that he was the only one who could fully adapt. Angor could not hide beneath the surface of the water. Having cleared what he hoped was enough distance he pulled Angor to a crouching position behind trees and looked back in the direction they had come from. He could see the lights sweeping the clearing and then casting off into multiple directions. He ducked back behind and settled down to catch his breath.
Neither moved, they just sat quietly listening for any sounds of pursuit. Nothing. Tristan ventured another peek. Nothing. They breathed easier. “What do we do?” Tristan whispered. “I don’t know.” Angor answered as she began patting her vest. “What are you looking for?” “I have a locator and remote start for the ship. If we can locate it, I might be able to get us out of here.” “But it was damaged when we landed.” “Only your pod, there are four on the ship. We can deactivate your pod, maybe even disengage it and leave it behind. We just have to find it. Here!” She pulled a small device from a pocket and hit it with her thumb. Instantly a whirring sound erupted to life. Tristan looked around “could it really be that close.” “I don’t know, but even if it was, it doesn’t sound like that.” They looked at each other before peering around opposite sides of the tree that hid them. In the clearing the lights were now focused on a single spot. In the middle of the clearing a large machine stood with circular blades roaring to life. The lights moved in closer and took positions at the top, shining into the depths of the trees, and then the machine moved towards them.
The blades cut through the tree trunks as though they were made of paper, bringing the forest down around it as it cut a path heading directly towards Tristan and Angor. They scanned their surroundings for an escape. “Over there.” Angor was pointing off a sort distance to their left where the ground rose up like a hill lifting a portion of the forest. The edge facing them looked be made of rock and at its base was a cave small enough to hide and protect them. A quick nod of agreement and they were again running. They could feel the breeze of the blade as the machine gained on them and then they were ducking and diving into darkness. They pushed themselves as far back as they could, shielding their whereabouts and praying they would not be discovered. The whirring of the blades stopped.
Tristan could barely make out the whites of Angor’s eyes and only hopped that she could see his. He reached out for her hand, but she wasn’t where he expected her. Her eyes closed and then reopened a bit higher. They closed again and opened a bit to the right, then another set opened and another. “Angor” he whispered, danger was all around him and he was willing to risk it. “Angor!” he said a little louder. He was ready to scream her name when the light hit him like a blinding spot light. There was a shriek and then he was enclosed in long thin spindly arms. They shut around him like a cage and when he turned to look behind he came face to face with a wall of eyes staring at him. The ground shook and the creature that now contained him in its grasp rose from the ground. He looked around desperate and found Angor a few feet away in the same predicament. Now he did scream “ANGOR!” She looked back, started to say his name, but choked on the sound as the captor began to roll away through the woods. His cage, because that is all he could think of it, followed suit rolling back towards the clearing they had fled only moments before.
Once in the clearing the creatures rotated, turning their bodies so that where their arms locked was against the ground beneath Tristan and Angor. Looking up all they could see were many eyes looking back at them. Everything began illuminated as the lights took position directly above. The one above Angor was lowering a cable that attached to back of the Angor’s captor. He was sure the same thing was happening to his own, and then they were being lifted from the ground toward the ship that still hovered above. Tristan’s stomach dropped as doors on the bottom of the ship open and then they were swallowed inside.
Help continue the story continue by answering these questions…
Give me a room, any room, where a guest can wait.
Provide a personality type and a profession.
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K. L. Kent Author 