I thought that today I would treat you all by splashing some actual fiction across my blog for your viewing pleasure. Below is a silly short story I wrote in 2009 for no reason other than to amuse myself.
© Alyce Caswell
When the UFO first appeared in the stratosphere, slinking through the darkness on my side of the world, I was comfortably unaware of its presence. Immersed in the intricate workings of some novel and its outlandish premise, I enjoyed the soothing noises that appear after midnight. The burr of traffic and the infrequent barking of dogs form the closest thing to silence known to modern man or woman inhabiting my city.
I didn’t expect to encounter any other worldly intelligent life, nor did I wish to die before I saw something vaguely suspicious and glowing in the sky. For all my interest in space, I was to be very disappointed with humankind’s first contact with aliens.
I briefly paused in my weaving of words and manipulation of hapless heroes and helpful heroines to glance dramatically into the shadows that blanketed the world outside my window. Unfortunately, I had been distracted by the ever glaring light of the neighbour over the fence who refused to improve my silent reverie with inspiring darkness.
The light shimmered, flickered and thrummed before disappearing into the void.
“You picked a good night to be a good neighbour,” I muttered, throwing a smouldering but relieved glare across the space between our houses.
Writers rarely like to be disturbed or distracted from their work, but on those rare occasions they tend to deliberately gaze out the window or form an attachment for those clicking pens. I’d lost hours in clicking pens and I was about to lose hours in bizarre discoveries.
The nail of my index finger became wedged between my teeth as I chewed absently. A nasty habit I had cured in all but one finger. I quickly added this quirk to my favourite new character.
Between adding this feature and then crossly back-spacing it, I became aware of beady eyes watching me through the gloom. I also had the sharp shock of noticing a face pressed up against my window, nose squished so much that I could see down the tunnels of their nose. That was not a pleasant experience.
The man-shaped being fluttered his hands at me and pleaded, “Don’t scream. I mean no harm. I’m...how would you say it...in need of fuel.”
“Eek!” I wanted to say, except it came out as, “You picked the wrong night to need petrol. They always hike up the prices at this time of the week.”
Alyce Caswell is an aspiring writer who apparently lost her mind, threw away a steady job as an office junior and entered the realm of imagination.
She has blamed her accomplice and husband for giving her this most excellent opportunity.
Alyce has written articles, poems, short stories, books
and several embarrassing blogs. She hopes this venture will avoid the usage of cat gifs.
Links of Interest
A Rambling Rover
Alyce's travel blog which features various castles, stone circles and bemused musings about the Northern Hemisphere.