Tag: Third Aetet

Silent Scream

On January 14, 2023

Word Count: 7,303

Walking down what was clearly a rarely used road with a gas can in my hand, I cursed myself for ever deciding to take this trip. I wanted to get away from the city for a bit, so I decided to take a lonely drive out in the country. Had I realized this particular part of the country was so devoid of people, I would have filled up my gas tank at the last stop I passed. I did not expect to get out here and there be nothing. There were no diners, no filling stations and no houses I saw anywhere since passing the last convenience store several hours ago.

It would be a major stroke of fortune to have a car drive up about now, but I did not believe there was much of a chance of that happening. I maybe saw four other cars since reaching the foothills, and by the look of the leaves piled up on this particular road, it is not utilized very often at all. There simply did not seem to be any option available for me than to walk until I could find some help. If I waited by my car for help, I might be waiting out here for eternity.

The roads winding through the foothills made for a much longer walk than I initially anticipated. I was used to walking the straight paths in the city, and I did not put much thought into how much longer this meandering road would make my hike. The sun was beginning to set, which I did anticipate, and I checked again to make sure my flashlight was working. I checked before ever leaving my car to be sure the batteries still had power in them.

Things took on a more sinister tone when the sun set completely behind the hills. There was only the sliver of a waxing moon hanging in the sky, which left it amazingly dark here on the ground. I did not want to rely on my flashlight constantly. If I ended up being out here all night, I did not want my only light to go dead on me. I used it to get a look at where I was going, then shut it off as I walked for five minutes or so while doing my best to stay on the road in the dark.

Car horns, engines revving, people whistling for cabs, these were the night sounds I was used to . As a matter of fact, I did not really even hear them anymore. It was so much a part of my everyday life. Out here though, things were different. People generally think of the peace and quiet of the countryside, but I found it to be just the opposite. I found all the insects, birds and other nocturnal animals created a loud mix of chirps and songs that haunted the night air.

A few times I heard something howl out in the night. I assumed it must be wolves, coyotes or something similar. The cries came from far away, so I did not worry too much about being mauled by some wild animal. Still, I guess there was always that chance of encountering a carnivore in search of an easy meal. I did have my .38 revolver on my belt, which I retrieved from the glove box before departing my vehicle, so that added greatly to my feeling of safety.

If any hungry animals did want to try to turn me in to a meal, they could easily find me. The leaves were falling from the trees, and the paved street was several inches deep with them. It was virtually impossible for me to walk without kicking leaves as I went. Walking off the side of the road was no better. Besides, there was very little if any road shoulder at all. The last thing I wanted to do was twist my ankle or worse. I remained on the leaf strewn country road but lifted my feet a bit higher as I walked in an attempt to lessen the noise I made. The extra effort did slow my pace a bit.

The more I contemplated it, the more distressed I became that I would encounter an aggressive animal and be eaten in the middle of nowhere. I knew there were bears in the mountains, but I did not know how far down into the foothills they came. The thought of a wolf or coyote worried me enough, but once I thought about the possibility of bears, I began to grow frightened.

It felt like I covered ten miles or so, but when I looked at my watch and saw only an hour passed since abandoning my car, I guessed it was probably much closer to five miles. I drove for hours to end up where I did. It was possible I could walk for days before I ran into anyone or found anyone who could help me. The thought of dying out here from hunger or thirst became a real fear for me extremely fast. There was no way I could walk all the way back to the last service station I passed. If no one found me, I was going to be in some real trouble.

The temperature was nice, probably somewhere in the low 70’s, so I was not sweating from the walk. I was, although, being eaten alive by mosquitos. I never expected to be out here walking in the dark in the middle of nowhere. Since I expected to be in my car most of the time, I did not bring any mosquito repellant with me. I knew I would be covered in itchy red welts by the time I finally returned to civilization.

I found my eyes stayed well-adjusted to the darkness if I avoided using my flashlight. All I needed to do was stay on the paved street. That was easier than it sounded at some points. Multiple times I loudly kicked some leaves from the ground because I was unable to see the height of the piles in the dark. I did not want to attract the attention of anything lurking about the dark hills. The only way I could avoid the leaf piles was to use my flashlight, which again brought attention to my presence.

After nearly three and a half hours of walking I found nothing. I began inadvertently kicking the small piles of leaves again. I walked with a high step for hours, and I simply could not do it anymore. That used up a lot more energy than I expected, and who knows how much longer I had to walk.

I avoided kicking leaves when I could, but I no longer put any effort into it. I walked this long without seeing any large animals, so I felt rather confident I probably never would. I didn’t think it was worth the extra energy to try to keep quiet.

I almost screamed when something swooped down from above and snapped at the top of my head. My blood rushed and sparks flooded my eyes. I dropped the gas can and was going to run, but I did not know to where I should run. I did not know if I would be safer on the road or in the woods. I almost dropped to the ground when it happened again. If I were not so panicked, I probably would have laughed when I realized what it was. It was nothing more than small bats snatching mosquitos out of the air.

It took me a few minutes to get my nerves worked back down again. Now I knew it was nothing more than little bats feeding on the nocturnally active insects, but the initial incident still had my heart racing. Eventually I picked the gas can up off of the ground and continued on my way. I was weary and watched for the bats, but they were so fast and it was so dark I could not see them until they were right on me. None came as close to me as the previous two did, and that was fine by me.

First being startled by the bats, and second just knowing they were flittering all around me made the creepy seclusion out here in the hills much more intense. Now it seemed like the trees were moving, trying to warm me about something. It felt like the occasional winds were trying to whisper something malicious into my ear. I started to feel a sense of paranoia I never experienced until now. I could suddenly sense the stares of the night animals as I walked through the inky dark alone.

What was I thinking? Why did I drive all the way out here? What made me think this was a good idea?

I just wanted to get out and away from the city for a bit. I very rarely took any time to spend outside of the concrete jungle in which I lived and worked. I wanted to see something green that was not a trash can or municipal bus. If only I realized before it was too late that there were no gas stations to be found. That was something I was definitely not expecting. Surely there were people who lived out here, and they had to get their gas somewhere.

There had to be someone living out here in the foothills, there just had to. I could not see this much open country being totally devoid of human inhabitants. There were roads out here. Sure, they were old roads, but they were not so old as to be in a state of severe disrepair. I saw multiple Christmas tree farms before I ran out of gas, so I knew there were at least people who worked around here. Maybe they did not work out here every day, but they had to work out here some. It seemed to me there would be people living on the land they farmed.

I finally had to stop. I had the early stages of blisters forming on my feet, and I was reaching the point of being thoroughly exhausted. If I did not stop and allow myself time to rest, I was going to find myself collapsed on this leaf covered road. I found a nice grassy spot at the base of a very steep hill. It was my assumption that I would be safe seated here with my back to this sharp incline. I could not imagine there were too many animals that could climb down this eighty-degree hill with any kind of speed or skill.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I knew I could not walk all the way back to the city, but I did not know where to find anything way out here in the boonies. I really put myself in one hell of a predicament. If a car did not see me, I could not imagine how I was ever going to reach civilization again.

Apparently, I was much more exhausted than I thought. I leaned back against the hill and closed my eyes to rest for a moment. When I opened my eyes back up, the sun was barely starting to peek above the horizon. I laid there vulnerable for three hours, exposed to anything and everything. I guess luck was with me last night after all.

Once I put my shoes back on my sore feet, I got up, grabbed the gas can and flashlight, and continued walking. I looked around through as I walked, since now I could see, for anyone or anything that could direct me to where someone was. Still, I only saw hills, trees and shrubs.

I was becoming quite desperate. The last service station I passed was more than sixty miles from where I ran out of gas. I knew I was not going to walk that far without food and only one bottle of water. Having someone drive along and find me was the most ideal option, but the least likely. I had to search for signs of civilization: powerlines, phone lines, well-used roads.

I finished with the last of my water around noon. I kept the bottle with me just in case I found a spring. Those did tend to be quite common in this area. Fresh mountain spring water as a general rule is sterile, so I wouldn’t need to worry about parasites. I knew a little about wilderness survival from going to camp as a kid, but most of those things left my memory long-long ago.

My mood perked up a bit when I rounded a bend and saw phone lines running from one side of the road to another. I ran under the lines laughing with my hands in the air. I was so happy to find this because, by the look of the pole, this was a very local line. I bet there was not more than a dozen homes connected to it. It was going to be a lot more difficult, but it looked like I was going to have to travel through the hills. I really didn’t want to, but I truly believed I would find help faster following the phone lines and not the leaf covered road.

It helped to stay in the valley, even though it was a very curvy one. To walk in a straight line, I would have to go up and down, and up and down these steep, rocky hills. It was actually rather marshy directly between the hills. I did not know it would be like this. I had to stay out of the center because the silty mud almost took off one of my shoes. Mostly the mud was a light gray color, but here and there I saw spots dark enough to be crude oil. That was all I needed, to get caught in this fluidic mud and die.

The mosquitos were terrible as my movement and the smell of my breath stirred them into a frenzy. The little blood suckers got me now and then as I walked along the road, but now they were attacking me constantly. I was thirty minutes into the hills and was about to turn back. Suddenly I saw someone standing atop a distant grassy hill. I yelled and flailed my arms, but I don’t think he heard me. He probably could not hear me because I was down in the valley. I tried to move it a little faster as I made my way toward the man. Butterflies filled my stomach then a sense of relief washed over me. I could not believe I found someone.

When I rounded the bend and came to the large grassy hill upon which he stood, I called out to him again. The man still did not respond. He just stood there staring off in the other direction. I wondered if he was old or deaf. I tried calling out to him a few times before I began to ascend the hill.

It was a difficult climb to the top. The ground was damp from recent rains, so the grass pushed loose under the weight of my body. Climbing this hill was indeed a struggle, but I finally made it. I staggered over to the man as I continued to call out to him. He did not move, so I limped my way over to stand in front of him. I wanted to cry when I got a look at him.

His face was gray, his clothes were gray, everything about him was gray. He was nothing but a statue. It was a very detailed statue. The complexity of the facial features, the texture of the clothing; they were just absolutely amazing. Who in their right mind would spend the time it took to create this magnificent work of art and then put it out here where no one would ever see it? That made absolutely no sense at all. This was something that should be in a museum.

The statue was of a man dressed as one would in the early 1800’s. He had a rifle in his hand with the butt resting on the ground. His hair was long and unkempt, and a beard about an inch long covered his face. The clothes were a mix of furs and deer skin or leather. Several pouches hung from his belt, which was actually no more than a piece of rope. The eyes had a look of sadness, and his mouth was open as if he were about to say something.

There was something really creepy about this. It simply did not make sense for someone to put so much time and effort into creating this thing only to bring it out here and stand it on one of the hills. I didn’t see any reason for this. I decided to climb back down and get back to the road. I did not want to be out in the hills anymore.

I slipped once climbing down and slid more than three feet down the slope. I tried to be careful, but the foliage covering the ground pulled loose very easily. We didn’t get any rain in the city recently, but apparently there was plenty of rain here.

The ground released a putrid squishy sound as I reached the valley floor. Disturbing the grass and such on my way down, and stepping around on the muddy ground had the mosquitoes stirred up more than ever. Little spots of blood dotted my arms from slapping full ones. It almost seemed like the little blood hawks were about to carry me off.

Suddenly I realized I did not pay attention to which way I came down the hill, so I was not sure which direction I needed to go. Climbing both up and down the hill, I kicked loose a lot of grass and dirt. All I had to do was walk around the grassy mound until I found my climbing spot. I would know exactly which way to go from there.

Keeping tight to the base of the hill, I began walking. I made it half way around and still saw no signs of where I climbed up. Something did not seem right, and I really began to worry. I made it all the way around thelarge mound , and I saw no signs of my ascension of the hill. I did not find any signs of where I climbed down either. I kicked and knocked a lot of stuff loose, but the turf looked like it was completely untouched. Frantically I looked around for anything, any sign at all of where I disturbed the soil. It was almost as if the ground was healing itself.

This couldn’t be happening. I knew this couldn’t be happening. I was probably still asleep on that hill next to the road. That had to be it. I was still asleep.

Then why did my legs and feet ache so much?

Giving up on trying to find my previous tracks, I looked around for the power lines I followed to get to this point. I was sure I should be able to see them from the base of this hill. I stepped out and away to get a look at the statue on top. I was sure I came up to the right side of its back, so I tried to use that to get a fix on my position.

It was late morning and rather warm, but my body ran cold with chills as I looked at the statue. I still could not understand why someone would put such a detailed work of art out here like this, but I really no longer cared to think about that. All I wanted to do was to find my way back to that paved road, even if it was rarely used and covered in leaves. At least there I knew I was on a man-made surface. Everything about these hills felt unnatural, maliciously unnatural.

Using the statue to regain my direction, I managed to locate the phone lines I followed out here. I remembered it being marshy as I was coming this way, but I did not remember it being so slippery. I had to take great care with my steps so that one foot or both feet did not slip out from under me.

I was already thirsty, and all this anxiety and physical strain was making me sweat. If I did not find a fresh source of water soon, I would likely die. I did not want to leave my body out here for the animals to pick apart. I so desperately wanted to find my way back to the city and never leave again. To hell with nature and enjoying time ‘out in the country.’

I did remember passing some small waterfalls on and around some of the rockier areas, but I could not remember how far away they were. It was really hard to judge the distance traveled in a car when having to travel that same ground on foot. One minute in a car could be an hour on foot.

I wanted to drop to my knees and kiss the street when I saw the leaf covered road. Tears literally rolled down my cheek when I saw that hard, dry, man-made surface. I tried to run, tried to sprint, but my throbbing feet were so blistered and sore I could scarcely manage to walk. I had to remove my shoes. Leaving them on would only blister me more as I continued to walk this long road. I tucked them under one arm, carried my gas can with one hand, and my flashlight in the other.

My gait began to waver as I walked without moving my arms. I was so tired, I wanted to collapse. I knew I had to keep moving or I was going to die out here. Knowing this was the only thing that kept me standing.

Time became blurry. I was not sure how long it was since I got back on the road. I know it was a long time, but that was about as accurate as I could be. Dehydration was thickening my blood and it felt as if my heart was about to leap out of my chest. It took absolutely everything I had in me to keep going.

Suddenly I noticed the rushing sound of flowing water. I did not believe it at first. I was sure it was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by exhaustion and dehydration. As I listened, I continued to hear it. It was real. From this distance it was very difficult to tell where the sound was originating. The ringing in my ears made pinpointing it from a distance all but impossible.

Continuing forward, I tried my best to focus on that wonderful sound of life-sustaining water. Eventually the sound grew louder and louder. The louder it became, the surer I was that I was going to find it. Working my dry tongue against my cracked lips, I could almost taste the cold spring water.

Finally, I found the location of the sound; I had to once again leave the road and walk a little deeper into the hills. This area was steeper, and much rockier than the previous area I explored. I found a large pool of water. As much as I wanted to dive into it and start drinking, I knew I needed to follow the water a little closer to the source. The water needed to be cold and flowing, and this water was heated by the sun and stagnate.

It was only another hundred feet or so before I found the fresh spring from which the water flowed from the rocks. Being as careful as I could not to slip and fall, I worked my way to the spring and began drinking. I could not control myself and I drank until my side began to cramp. Grabbing my side with both hands, I doubled over onto the ground.

The pain was absolutely excruciating, but after a short time it subsided. My mouth was still dry, and the running water only made me thirstier. I began taking small drinks and allowing that to settle before I drank any more. I was probably there for an hour before I started to feel normal again. I was not going to die from thirst today.

I stayed there by the little waterfall replenishing the missing water from my body for another hour before getting back to the road. Walking with cramps would be next to impossible, so I needed to make sure the water was getting absorbed into my system. Trying to make it on foot with a stomach full of water would leave me doubled over once again.

When I did finally follow the flow of the water back to the large pool, I saw what I first thought to be nothing but a rock on the side of a grassy hill partially covered in trees. As I looked at it for a moment, I realized it looked more like a person. It looked like a person, but it did not move.

As frightened as I was at that moment, I still could not resist the urge to get a close look at the statue. It was not far, and I made sure to study the landmarks before I left the water’s edge. I was not going to get myself in the same predicament as before. That was not a mistake I planned to make twice.

This figure appeared to be made of the same sort of stone as the first statue. I stayed a few feet to the side of it and climbed up to get a look at it from the front. When I did, I wished I stayed away from it.

This figure was that of a woman. Her mouth was wide-open in what appeared to be mid-scream, and the features on her face were contorted in fear. Her hair was disheveled, but it reminded me of the hairstyles that were so popular in the mid 1980’s. She looked like she was trying to get away from something, like she was desperately trying to get away with her life.

I started running. I did not notice the pain in my feet anymore. The fear overcame that. Unfortunately, my fear also made me careless. I was paying attention to what was up ahead and not what was right in front of me. I hit a small grassy patch in the rocks and it went right out from under me.

The next thing I knew it was dark again. I had no idea for how long. I slipped on that patch of grass and banged my head pretty good. I tried to ignore the pounding in my skull enough to get myself comfortably into a seated position. I tried to get a look at my watch, but I could see the screen was cracked. I took it off and angrily threw it into the darkness.

There was a little sliver of moon out tonight, and I already determined it was in the waxing phase. I like looking at the moon through my telescope at home, so I became good at deducing the time by the position and phase of the moon.

It was a little after midnight. At least I had that figured out. Using my shirt, I dabbed at the back of my head gently then checked the fabric for blood. There was a little, but it did not seem to be too bad. Suddenly there was a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized I left my flashlight back at the statue on the top of that hill. I was in such a panic; I did not even think about it. All I could think about all day was finding water. Now it was dark, and I was virtually blind.

There simply was not enough moonlight to use for navigation. The sound of the water was still very clear, so I did my best to take small steps and worked my way to the spring. Once I reached the pool it was a straight shot back to the road again. It took a long time. It felt like an eternity, and I could swear I felt eyes glaring at me. I did not know where they were, but I was sure this was more than a sense of paranoia.

This feeling I was being watched made me want to rush. It was a struggle not to follow my instincts and flee as fast as I possible could, but I knew the chances of me injuring myself were a hundred times better in the dark than in the daytime. Already possibly having a serious head injury, I did not want to fall and hurt myself again.

Feeling like something was about to come bearing down on me, I experienced a very momentary sense of relief when I saw the reflection of the moon dancing on the surface of that large pool. From there I knew which direction I should go. I was so glad I had the forethought this time to familiarize myself with the area before straying off. Even in this haunting darkness, I was able to locate my markers. I was only ten feet away from the road when the grass under my right foot slipped free from the marshy ground.

Again, I slipped and fell on my back, but this time I smacked down into the mud rather than banging my head on another rock. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but I did not knock myself unconscious this time. A few minutes passed as I caught my breath and allowed the sparks in my eyes to subside before attempting to get myself off the ground.

My whole back side was covered in mud and grass. I needed to wash my head wound and drink some more water, but there was no possible way I was going to even consider attempting to feel my way through the dark over that slippery, rocky terrain created by that fresh water spring.

Finally making it back to that old country road, I dropped to my knees and started crying. I started bawling is more like it. Death felt so close; I wondered if those were the sinister eyes I felt staring at me.

Was the Grim Reaper following me waiting for me to make that one fatal mistake?

Mud filled my shoes when I fell. I had no other choice than to remove them from my feet again. Taking them off to tuck them back under my arm, it dawned on me I never picked up the gas can after I fell the first time. When I was rescued, if I was ever rescued, hopefully they would have one because I was not going to leave this road again.

Ignoring the pain coursing from my feet to my head, I ran as fast as I could. The piles of leaves on the road shifted under my feet, and I had to again stop and walk. Something was out there stalking me. I could feel it like I could feel the blisters on my feet. At this point I would be happy if it was a wolf hiding in the darkness, but I did not think that was the case. This thing haunting me was not something natural to this world.

My body told me I had to stop, but I would not listen. I was not going to stop until I saw the sun again. Fear and fear alone kept me going. I pushed through the pain and kept on the move. There was no way I was going to sit out here in the dark with whatever it was that was watching me.

Every now and then I stepped on a small rock concealed under the heaping leaves. It hurt intensely, but I could not put on my shoes until I could get the silty mud out of them. Crumbled leaves and tiny sticks stuck to the mud on my socks, but I was not going to walk fully barefooted. The socks did not provide much protection, but they did provide some. I had to routinely clean the debris from my feet taking up time and energy I did not have. I needed to get as far as I could while it was still dark and cool. Once the sun came back out, I would begin sweating again. That meant I would need to find another source of drinkable water.

With the exception of the pain from stepping on the occasional rock, walking on the leaves in my socked feet was actually quite comfortable. Wearing my mud filled shoes would only cause my blisters to progress faster, so this was some small relief in an otherwise intense situation.

Because of the noise made as I walked through the growing cover of leaves on the road, I did not notice it until I stopped to rest for a moment. The sound of trickling water was inviting as it echoed in the night air. I was insatiably thirsty and wanted so badly to go find the spring, but there was absolutely no chance I was going to go off into the hills in the dark. Fortunately, sunrise came not even an hour later.

There was no sense of relief when the sun did finally begin to rise. Whatever was following me, it was still out there hiding. The sun did not make the danger go away; it simply gave me a better chance of seeing what it was. I would not feel safe again until I was seated on the couch in my modestly sized apartment in the city.

I waited until the sun rose above the tops of the hills before going in search of water. I had to go in my socked feet until I could wash out my shoes, but that seemed to make the walk on the slippery rocks a little easier. The ability of my foot to form around the shape of the water eroded rocks gave me a much firmer footing than my shoes ever could.

Locating the running water, I followed it upstream in search of its source. Straight from a spring is the only place one could find drinkable water out here in the middle of nowhere. The water in the small stream was contaminated by microscopic animals and bacteria. The spot where the water emerged directly from the rocks in the hills was where the cleanest water could be found.

Before I set off to follow the water upstream, I washed my shoes out at this part of the stream. Most of the mud came right off, but small clumps of black would not wash off. Even after using my hands to try to scrub it off, the black stuff remained. I pulled my shoe back out of the water and looked at it more closely. It did not look like dirt. It looked like that black stuff I saw mixed in with the mud close to where I found that first statue.

I checked my socks and the substance was on them too. Removing my socks, I found the stuff was on my feet. I looked under my arm where I carried my shoes and found spots of it there as well. Washing it off did not work. Trying to wipe it away did not work. It was adhering to me like little droplets of tar. I was sure some good strong soap would get it off once I got rescued and got home.

I shook as much water as I could out of my shoes and tied the laces together. I hung them around my neck and began my walk upstream. It was really very beautiful. The stream-bed consisted of nothing but rock. All the dirt and silt washed away long ago. The vegetation, though late in the season, was still a strong and healthy dark green. Soft moss covered many of the rocks, and yellow and bright orange lichens tried to cover what the moss did not.

I did not have to follow the stream to its origin this time. Multiple springs fed this one, so all I had to do was find the closest one. That did not take nearly as much time as I thought it would. I felt the water and found it was icy cold. I washed my hands off as best as I could and then used them as a cup to feed myself water from the spring. It did not flow as strong as the spring yesterday, so I could not drink from it directly. This was going to take a little time, but I saved a lot of time not following the stream to its source.

When I shifted my weight from one side to the other, I lost my balance and slipped. I did not slip enough to fall, but I did kick loose a two square foot patch of moss growing on a large rock. In the rich mud, I saw more of that black oily substance.

What was that stuff? Could it be crude oil seeping out of the ground? Was it some sort of pollution?

I screamed when the substance spread to the loosened moss, pulled it back in place, and made it look as if it was never disturbed. I screamed both from the fright of that unnatural sight and from excruciating pain. When the black substance became active, all the little black droplets on my body began to burn. It felt like someone kicked the hot coals of a camp fire at me causing the burning cinders to blow on me like snow.

I could not believe what I saw. The ground healed itself. These hills were alive, or something was alive in them. That explained why I could not find where I disturbed the ground at the hill with the statue of the man on top. I began to panic as I considered the terrifying possibilities.

Was this natural, supernatural or alien in nature, and was it ever going to let me get out of here alive?

I grabbed my shoes and began to run. I did not think about falling or slipping on the wet stones. The only thing on my mind was getting away. I did not know where I could get away to, but if I reached the road, at least I would be back on a man-made surface. I never saw any of that oily black stuff on the leaves or anything on the paved surface. I prayed it was not in the water, because if it was, I just put it directly into my body.

I tried to vomit. I stuck my finger down my throat to try and make myself gag. I did my best to expunge the water from my stomach, but unfortunately I had no success. I had to pray none of that stuff was in the cold spring water I consumed only minutes ago.

I got up and ran in such a hurry, I left my shoes sitting by the small waterfall. I still had my pistol though. I never removed it from my belt. I did not think it would do me any good against these living hills, but it still gave me some measure of comfort having it on me.

With my adrenalin still surging from the horror I experienced, I jogged down the road as far as I could. My body wanted to collapse on me, but I wanted nothing more than to get away from here and away from this cursed terrain. I did not know how far this stuff spread. It went back at least as far as the first statue I found. That was more than a full day’s walk. I had to wonder if it was just around the road, or if it also went deep into the hills.

When I stopped, I bent over and put my hands on my knees to rest a moment. I glanced at the black stuff adhered to my skin. Suppressing my urge to cry, I could not suppress the tears that ran from my eyes. The spots were larger, and the skin around them began to grow very dry and rough. Checking my feet, I found the same thing happening there. Panic and fear surged through me like a bolt of lightning. The stuff was doing something to me, changing me.

The coloration of the dry skin was the same as that of the two statues. They looked so realistic because they were real. Those figures were no works of art at all. Those figures were people just like me. This horrid substance was going to turn me into stone.

How could that possibly be?

I tried gripping one of the droplets between my fingernails to try and pluck it from my skin, but it was not going to come off. I tried again to wipe it with my shirt to no avail. I already tried washing it off in the water. I wish I still had my gas can. Perhaps the few drops of gas that were still in it would remove this stuff.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a voice whisper into my ear. I could not understand what it said, but I could pick up on the malicious tone. I heard it a second time. This time it was much clearer, but I still could not understand it. It sounded as if it were in some long-lost language.

Frantically I looked around me for the source of that voice. It sounded like it was whispering right into my ear, but there was nothing near me. I swung my arms around the air with my palms open as if I were trying to swat something away.

A shock surged through my whole body when the ghostly voice screamed at me. It was a scream of rage yet somehow a scream of sorrow. I could not see anything that could be making these sounds and that terrified me beyond any level of fear I knew.

I was going to run, but a large mass of the black substance began to cover a large section of the road. I turned to run back, but the stuff covered that direction too. The patches of the goo were already too wide for me to jump.

As I stood there trying to figure out how to get around the black ooze, a pillar of the substance rose out of the ground at the edge of the road. It took on a very vaguely human shape, like it was trying to imitate me. I could feel it staring at me, observing me. The retched thing had no eyes, but I could still feel it looking at me. I stood, almost as if mesmerized, and stared back at the unnatural thing.

The unholy pillar of sludge began to roil and bubble. I knew my gun would do no good against the ooze, so I pulled it from my belt and turned it on myself. It was too late. The thing erupted, covering my body in that filthy black ooze. Instantly, I froze in place. My knees were bent and my hands wrapped around the butt of my pistol holding it to my temple. My face was contorted in fear, turned to stone forever in a silent scream.

The Others

By Mychal Wilson

On September 3, 2019

In Aetet 1, Third Triad, Vastness of Reality

Word Count: 6,379

From moment I took my first steps, my parents had to start installing deadbolts and other locking mechanisms on all of the doors and windows throughout the house. The first scare occurred when I was still at the very young age of three. My parents awoke one night to find my bed empty. In a panic, they searched the house for me, but found no sign of me. After calling the police to the scene, my terrified father left my mother to wait for the authorities as he searched the nearby streets for me.

My father discovered me safe and sound sitting on someone’s front doorsteps four blocks away. Apparently, I took the newspaper I found in their lawn and had its pages spread upon the porch. My father observed me scanning over the unfolded pages and thought he actually saw me reading them, but I was not even a in preschool yet.

With each nightly episode of my sleepwalking, I was always found acting out of character for someone my age. Many times, my parents simply caught me quietly watching television. My mother found me one night as I was fervently flipping through the pages of the phone book. She never spoke directly to me about this, but I overheard enough conversations to put two-and-two together.

One summer evening Mother came to check on me and found me encircled with books. I was rapidly scanning over the pages turning them one right after another. Mother swears I was speed reading through the dictionary. Spread around me I had several encyclopedias, a dictionary and multiple magazines. Most of them were damaged, the pages torn as if I could not flip through them fast enough.

When she took me by my little wrists and attempted to take me back to bed, I fought back vehemently. Screaming unintelligibly, I kicked and clawed my way out of her grip. After that violent incident the doctor’s visits began. Several times a week my parents brought me to a special “talking doctor” to try to get to the root of my nocturnal sojourns.

Bolts on the doors no longer kept me captive in the relative safety of my home. In my sleep I managed to come up with some very creative ways of circumventing the locking mechanisms. How I got out frightened my parents as much as what they would find me doing.

One time they found me in a bookstore with the alarm ringing loud in the night. The owner of the store said he must have forgotten to lock the door one night, but he was wrong. I managed to enter a locked business and was found in the non-fiction section. I was surrounded by books of weaponry and war. It was at this point my parents decided dead bolts were not enough. Never once did I remember even a minute fraction of what occurred, which scared me even more so than it did my parents.

In my bedroom door my father installed a key operated dead-bolt lock which only unlocked from the hallway side of the heavy-oaken portal. Outside a heavy steel grating was placed over my window and fastened down tight. The glass in my window was replaced by the shatter resistant glass containing chicken wire. The first morning after being so heavily secured in my bedroom, my parents woke to find me sleeping in my bed. Their hopes falsely rose when I went more than a week without incident. Their despair deepened when they opened my door on the ninth morning.

Father unlocked the door and I was sound asleep in the corner. Using my crayons, I wrote on every inch of the wall I could reach. I don’t recall seeing the writings myself, but I know Mother took some Polaroid pictures of the strange characters. Even to this day I never ever peeked at those photographs.

The walls of my room were painted over with several coats of paint that day. Fans were necessary in order to provide safe ventilation because my bedroom window no longer opened. I was kept in my parent’s room over the course of the next several nights to allow the fumes to dissipate. They never told me so, but I knew they began taking turns staying awake with me because of how they seemed so exhausted the next day.

When I finally returned to my room, I was about a month away from my seventh birthday. Nothing was put in my room with the exception of my dresser, bed and a heavy table on which I liked to color and play. When it was time for me to go to bed, my parents removed the crayons and any other writing utensils. My clothes were in the dresser, but there was nothing I could use to write on the walls while I slept this time.

Several months passed without another incident, until one night I somehow pushed the table to the wall and stacked the dresser on top of it. Using a spring removed from my bed, I carved new characters on the wall, all the way up to the ceiling in most places. I moved the furniture around the walls of my room to reach the ceiling. As with any other night of my sleepwalking, I remembered nothing. I awoke to my mother’s startled scream. Father picked me up and rushed me out of the room, and mother slammed the door behind us.

I spent the first day of my eighth year answering questions and taking tests. Instead of a party, I was admitted to a mental health care facility. For the next two years, I called a hospital home. The doctors proceeded under the assumption my sleepwalking stemmed from a deeper psychological abnormality.

Sleep studies provided very interesting results. They discovered my brain became fully active during my dream cycles. Although I was unconscious, the tests indicated to the doctors I was in fact awake. Attempts were made during one of my mobile dream-states to communicate with me. My gurgling, hissing speech was unintelligible. To the untrained ear I spoke nothing but gibberish.

If the doctors provided me with writing utensils, my dream-self tried communicating by writing. The problem was I did not write in sloppy grade-school English. Instead, I randomly covered the paper with cryptic hieroglyph-like characters and grew frustrated when no one understood. Records were kept of each night’s session, the writings taken away from me, and audio recordings made. Throughout this time, I continued to remember absolutely nothing.

One time the doctors thought it would help me confront my problem, and made me watch my nocturnal ego. It terrified me beyond imagination. It felt like watching a horror movie in which I was the object of terror. I saw myself moving about, speaking a strange guttural language and writing in an unknown script. I cried. I begged them to stop and eventually I refused to open my eyes and would not allow them to show me anymore. I could not watch as my body moved around like a puppet on strings under a guided consciousness that was not my own.

Specialists used many forms of medication to try to control my extreme sleep disorder. Only the most potent anti-psychotics had any effect on me, but they made me very slow and distant during the daytime. I would rather be a victim to my night-self than spend my whole life in a daze. I cycled through dozens of drugs before the doctors found a combination that finally appeared to suppress my night-self.

The hospital released me three months after I turned ten, and I was soon allowed to go back to school. The few friends I did have prior to my hospitalization no longer wanted anything to do with me. Other children who did not like me before called me a freak, monster and many other extremely hurtful things. They made me the object of “creep” jokes. Kids can be cruel, but they can be downright evil when afraid of something. I’m sure the jokes and speculation really circulated during my second absence.

When the kids returned to school after the weekend, they were met with different messages. I got into the school over the weekend somehow, and covered every chalk board and dry erase board in the strange glyphs. Like always the characters did not follow a linear pattern. The characters were always placed in what seemed a random order, like the beginning and end of the message meant nothing. If it was indeed a language, the beginning, middle and end did not seem to matter so long as the necessary characters were present.

Although I never heard it, the demeaning jokes about my sanity stopped to be replaced by frightened rumors. The people of the community whispered their theories as to the nature of my condition. Because of my secured bedroom, some rumors spread saying I was a serial killer. Others said I was being abducted by aliens, and others said I was possessed by something dark and sinister. Everyone seemed to have their own theory. My parents could no longer deal with the hidden stares and whispered gossip from the adults in town. Father put in for a transfer, and in only a few months we moved out to a two-story home in the middle of nowhere.

Dad had a high up position in administration at the brewery in town, so he had the company move us out where some of the grains for the beer were grown. He had to take a pay cut, but that didn’t hurt us so much. Rent was cheaper in the country, the water came from a well, and we got most of our electricity from windmills.

Here they hoped my excursions would end. Every time my parents discovered me sleepwalking, I was found either reading or watching television. With no bookstores, libraries or even neighbors’ houses, my parents thought I might remain inside. The TVs in the house were placed like traps for a mouse. Despite all other media, they hoped I would stop and remain in front of a television.

I had my episodes for the first month of living in the country, and strangely they abruptly ceased. Six months later I was placed back in school, and my parents hoped with this fresh start I had the chance to make some friends. The school was nearly twenty miles from our house, so there was not the chance I would break into this one to cover the boards in those cryptic letters again. The expectation was I could now live like a normal teenager.

I made these next four rides around the sun without any more episodes. Immediately following my sixteenth birthday, I wanted to get a car and my driver’s license. All the kids my age were beginning to drive, and I did not want to be left out of the experience. My parents were very apprehensive, and I understood why. I could not go anywhere in my dream-state because the next house was ten miles away. They worried, if I learned how to drive, I would then have access to more. I could take the car somewhere to satiate my dream-self’s need to digest information. In the end, it was decided it was best I not yet learn to drive.

The final consensus between my father, my mother and I was it was not yet time for me to become quite so mobile. After our discussion, I went up to my room and went to bed. The force inside me driving my uncanny behavior apparently grew frustrated. When I awoke the next morning, every notebook I could find was filled with the inhuman hieroglyphs. It seemed like it should take several days to fill that much blank paper, but it obviously happened over a few short hours’ time.

Every night I recorded these strange writings. I used the same set of glyphs every time, but they were never in the same order and never seemed to show any discernable patterns. Many of the characters were repeated, but with no seemingly logical organization.

Once again, my parents pulled me from school. They did not know what to do and were desperately at their wits end. I even overheard them entertaining the notion of bringing an exorcist to the house. Neither of my parents were ever the religious sort, but at this point they were willing to try anything. Psychiatric care did not help, anti-psychotic drugs failed to produce positive results, and even moving me out to the middle of nowhere did not stop my sleep-walking episodes.

Some of the symbols I recorded bore a striking resemblance to crop circles. Others were hieroglyphic in design. My nocturnal writings had a vaguely Asian design as well as Scandinavian and Arabic. I was absolutely convinced I was writing in some form of obscure or unknown language. There had to be someone somewhere who could interpret this for me.

My parents were now keeping an incredibly close eye on me, ensuring I did not leave home at any time after sunset. They hid every scrap of paper, every pencil, and every pen in the house. They tried to remove anything with which I could write or record these symbols.

My closest friend, my only friend really, came out to the house to check on me occasionally. He felt bad for me living my life in virtual solitude. It was nice to have a good friend like Neil. I told him about my sleep-walking problem, but I did not lead on as to how severe it truly was. He was very understanding when I told him the sleeping disorder again grew worse. It came and went with an increasingly predictable frequency. When Neil asked if I needed anything, I think he was only being polite. I don’t think he expected my response.

I gave him thirty dollars I had hidden away, and asked him to buy me some pens and paper. I wanted him to buy as much paper as that afforded. The next request really stunned my friend. I asked Neil to deliver it to me at the road which ended at the back of my family’s property. He almost acted reluctantly as if I were trying to get him to go along with a major drug deal.

Now, I wanted a way to continue my dreaming journal, and this was the only way to procure the supplies necessary. I knew Neil was intelligent enough to discern something was amiss, but he agreed to do this for me anyway. I loved to write, and to my friend it was a feasible excuse because he knew I loved to write. Neil was quite aware of this because we shared several classes together before I was removed from school.

I never remembered meeting Neil to get my supplies, but when I woke the next day, I found them sitting on my dresser. The last thing I remembered was telling my parents I was going for a walk in the early evening. While I sat against a tree as I waited on Neil, I must have dozed off and my dream-self took over.

I do not know what happened during my encounter with Neil, but I never saw him again. I felt like I was going to lose control and succumb fully to this force driving me during my dreams. I feared I would lose myself forever.

I began meditating during the day. When I cleared my mind of my daily worries, I slowly but progressively felt my will grow in strength. I did not have any more episodes over the next few weeks as I continued my meditation sessions. The more time I spent in meditation, the stronger and more in control of myself I felt.

During those weeks, I slept soundly through the night. When I woke up each morning, there was nothing written in my notebooks or anywhere else. I thought perhaps my dream-self was now under my control. In the middle of the fourth week, I awoke to find the strange glyphs recorded on one of my notepads. The meditation worked, but now to a smaller and smaller extent.

I began a regular routine of going out for a one-hour brisk mid-morning walk. I returned home and ate a small lunch, and after a soothing shower, I went to my room to meditate. As the weeks passed, I found deeper meditation was much easier and my episodes again seemed to lessen. I still found writing in my notebooks, but the frequency of these episodes continued to grow less and less often.

In the fifth week something happened that never happened before. I was meditating later in the evening and I felt another conscious invading its way into my mind trying to take me over. I struggled against this presence that I now understood took over my body during the night. A swirling vortex of colors and shapes filled my mind as I heard voices in my head, voices speaking in a language alien to me. I fought vigilantly against this consciousness trying to claim my body for its own use, but alas I succumbed to the superior force.

My meditation sessions grew more intense as I increased them in length and frequency. I knew now something else, something alien took control of my body as I slept. Now that I had more of an idea of what I was dealing with, I had to discover some means of combatting it. I managed to shield my mind from it for months, but I was unable to fortify my psyche enough to prevent it from once again possessing my body.

This time the invader did not try to take me over while I was asleep; it took me over when I was during one of my meditation sessions. I fought it off for fifteen minutes or so before I finally succumbed to its superior mental strength. I felt the alien force reaching deep inside of me. The idea of something else taking control of my body absolutely mortified me.

What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it take over my body? What did it want from me?

I woke to find more of my notebooks filled with the strange writing. This time I remembered having very vivid dreams. I could not remember what they were about, but I do know I woke up with a feeling of extreme claustrophobia.

I began to spend even more time meditating. I went from meditating an hour a day to meditating for nearly five hours at a time. In the morning, instead of taking my daily constitutional, I would sit in the forest to meditate. I practiced removing the sounds of the birds, insects and any other day-time animals from my thoughts. I practiced blocking them out along with the rest of my worries. It was not long before I was able to do so successfully.

The invading psyche still took me sometimes while I slept. I learned long ago there was nothing I could do about that. My notebooks filled with the strange writing, which I now assumed must be the written language of my possessor. Once again it tried to take me during a meditation session. I fought for control of my own body for more than an hour. This time, when it won, I knew what it did with me while my physical body was under its possession. It sent me to its own body, which seemed to be in some sort of hibernation.

I tried to move, but I had the muscle control of a newborn baby. I did manage to open my eyes. What I saw was like nothing I ever saw before. I was inside of some sort of structure. The architecture was totally alien. I tried to move my head to look around, but I was so new to this body, I did not know how. I studied the same small area in front of me until my tormentor returned me to my own physical form.

I remembered everything when I awoke in the morning. I remembered seeing some of those strange symbols, those strange glyphs I recorded in my sleep. I still did not know what they meant, but I felt like I should. I looked at the drawings with a distant familiarity instead of the absolutely unknown as before.

I finally learned what happened to me during the night ever since I was a small child. I never was sleepwalking. Something took control of me as I slept using my body like a puppet. During these invasions, this other being trapped me in its body.

I realized, when I entered a deep meditation, this other creature thought I was sleeping. It always took me when I was asleep because that was the easiest time for it to do so. It did not have to wrestle with my own consciousness as I slumbered. That is why I never remembered it taking control of me. Every time I was thrust into its world, I was unconscious. When it took me during my meditation, it sent me into its body with me in a waking state.

I felt a whole new sense of terror. It was scary enough when I thought I was sleep-walking. The idea of an alien creature taking my body to use as its own absolutely horrified me. There could not possibly be a more of a personal violation thin this. This thing controlled the fate of my body as I slept.

I could not tell anyone. I could not ask for help. Who would believe me if I did?

Anything I told anyone would only make me look like an absolute lunatic. I would be locked away for the rest of my life. I wondered if that might not be for the best. If I was locked away, if it had no use for my body, perhaps it would leave me alone. That would be no kind of life for me to live though. I think I would be better off dead.

After this latest experience, I knew what happened to me as I slept. Perhaps now I could learn to use its form as it did with mine. Fear of the unknown passed over me in waves. I did not have a clue as to where my mind was sent as I slept. Wherever it was, I was sure it was no place like this world.

I got very little exercise during the day because I spent much of my time outside meditating. I believed I discovered the way to salvation from my nighttime activities. Each time I fought against that other mind; I found it easier and easier to fend off. I still could not defeat it, but with continued practice perhaps I could. During the day I stayed master of my own body, but in my sleep it still belonged to the other.

The next time it tried to take me during one of my meditations, I allowed it to do so. If I could learn more about it, I might just gain an advantage at fending it off.

Trying to make any voluntary functions in the alien body was still very difficult. I was trying to use a form vastly different from my own. I realized the strangeness of the coloration inside of the structure was not an effect of any design or architecture. The color perception of this body was just as alien as the body. It had no sense of hearing that I could discern, but I could somehow feel the things around me.

I lay there on my back, its back, and stared up at the ceiling. There was no way this room was tall enough for this body to stand. I figured it must be some sort of crawling creature. I tried to turn over, to get on my belly so that I could crawl, but I simply did not yet have the muscle control to do so. I squirmed around some, which was much more than I did the first time.

Several months passed as I learned how to use my possessor’s body more and more. The reason I could not roll over in its belly was because it already was on its belly. I was right when I thought it was a crawling creature. The ceiling was only twice as tall as the body was high. With time, I learned how to move the alien body while it was mine.

The being swapping minds with me was long and narrow. Three sets of limbs lined the slender form. The front and back sets of limbs acted as feet while the center set performed the function of arms. Learning how to manipulate all six limbs was by far the most difficult part of operating this form. Now I knew why it started taking me while I was so young. It had to learn to use my form as I did its vastly unfamiliar body.

The neck was very stiff, and I found it impossible to look downward. It finally occurred to me that this thing had eyes in the top of its head causing it to constantly look up. This creature apparently relied mainly on its senses of smell and touch. I did not know how the body did it, but somehow, I could feel everything around me. Without physically touching anything, I could still feel the smallest detail. I could read the engravings on the ceiling even with my eyes closed. I thought perhaps it was some sort of sense that acted like radar.

Eventually I learned to control the body enough to crawl around. The long arms protruding from the sides of the creature were attached to the back legs by fan-like membranes. The membranes looked a lot like they were once wings, but were no longer strong enough to get the body off the ground.

The room in which I always found myself appeared to have what looked like a doorway at one end. The opening was as tall as the ceiling from the floor and twice as wide. I did not try to exit this one room. I did not want this being to realize I learned to use its body as my own.

I allowed this to continue for nearly a year. The opening to this chamber opened into a vertical shaft. This was how I discovered this body possessed the ability to easily climb up walls. I could also crawl along the ceiling. The body did not have to turn; the limbs pivoted from front to back with natural ease.

I must have had some minor access to the alien’s memory, because it did not take me long at all before many of the hieroglyphs made sense to me. I was able to determine most of the engravings on the ceiling mapped out this creature’s family tree. It listed the name for each birth.

I waited a long time before I could bring myself to leave this room. I did not know how I was supposed to act in the case I encountered others. Once I did, I found a labyrinth of tunnels cut through the stone. Rooms did not have doors, so several times I almost entered the chambers of others.

The first alien I encountered said something. It did not use sound. It did not even use this radar like sense of touch. The only way I could think of describing it would be to call it telepathy. I could not understand what it said, so I repeated what it said to me. Apparently, I succeeded because this being went on about its business.

Somehow, I knew the tunnel led to a large chamber filled with more of the aliens. It was some sort of bazar or market. I avoided any such places until I developed a better understanding of their way of speaking and what their words meant. Just as with the written language, it did not take me very long to learn their means of communication. Their words made sense to me very quickly.

I tried not to spend too much time away from my possessor’s chamber. I did not want it to know I was taking excursions in its world as it did in mine. If it knew I gained command of its body, the alien may end the swapping of our minds. I wanted to know as much about these creatures and their world as I could. I hoped to find something that would indicate where in the universe I actually was.

I continued to avoid large, crowded areas such as the market. I learned these beings were very artistic. The tunnel system was carved with amazing images and art galleries were common. I did find the three-dimensional carvings to be very strange. I could feel their details as I moved, and some of them seemed to be somehow physically impossible.

The walls of the tunnels also contained engravings detailing the destinations of each passageway. This made it very easy for me to explore without getting lost. It also helped me avoid any large, highly populated areas. One of my biggest concerns was I would run into another who was friends with the one’s whose body I used.

Their social structure was as alien to me as their world. I eventually learned the concept of being friends, the way I understood the relationship, did not exist here. In fact, it appeared every individual lived alone. They only came together when it was time to conceive a child.

The family structure of this society was very loose and disconnected. When a child was conceived and born, the parents returned to their respective chambers. Who cared for the body was determined by the sex of the child. The custodial parent was the one with the same gender as the child. I did think it very odd that the creatures reproduced much the same way as animals on Earth. The idea that they had only two genders, the same two genders as found in my world was incredible.

I learned much about these creatures and their ways. I understood why the being in my body was going to my world. It wanted to study us. Our ways of life must be as alien to it as its world was to me. This invading mind apparently went unaware I controlled its body as it controlled mine. This creature wrongly thought I was asleep while I was in deep meditation, rather than sending my sleeping mind into its body, it was sending me in a conscious state.

I discovered these creatures expected a great cataclysm to occur sometime in their near future. This idea struck fear into my very soul. I began worrying they planned to take the earth, steal our bodies, and leave us here to die. I grew strong over this time, but my possessor was stronger yet. I did not think I could stop it if it tried to take my body for good.

These tunnel dwellers did not perceive time in the same way as humans, so I could not determine when the creatures expected the cataclysm to happen. If they tried to take host of human bodies in mass, they would doom all of those lives. They may even doom the entire human race.

I wanted to warn everyone I knew. I wanted to help the human race defend itself from the likely invasion. I wanted to help the earth, but I knew everyone would think I snapped.

Who would possibly believe such a strange tale as this?

I continued to study them as much as I could. There was a faint hope I could find something to help my people. My mind could not understand these beings’ odd sense of time. If I wanted to save my world, I needed to know how much longer I had. If there was enough time, perhaps I could at least save a handful of people.

Their art also seemed to be a sort of recording of history. I therefore decided to spend time in their museums to try to gather information on their full history. The problem was, to get to one of these places; I would have to travel through the community’s market. There were thousands of others in the bazar at any given moment. I had a rudimentary command of their language, but not enough to engage in conversation. If any others engaged me, I might be found out.

Eventually I decided I had no other choice. The ones I encountered up to now were not very communicative. A greeting was traditional, but I encountered no conversations thus far. I could only hope they were the same way when gathered in large numbers.

Finally, while the other made use of my body, I worked up the nerve to pass through the market place so I could reach the museums of history. I passed many other tunnels on my way to the large chamber, passageways leading mainly to the dwelling rooms of the aliens.

Those I passed on my way said nothing but the usual greeting. I felt rather good about my chances in the bazar. The massive chamber contained thousands of these beings. When they gathered together in crowds, the typical greeting was apparently not necessary.

Vendors greeted me with offers to purchase their products. I politely told them no and went about my business. I was so glad these beings did not form personal relationships. If they had, one of them may have recognized me and initiate a conversation. As it was, I made it to the other side without ever having to say more than a few words.

This was the first time I encountered any of their technology. The aliens used crystals of different sorts as what I could only describe as computers. All this time, I carried on this body a belt containing pouches full of crystals. I thought these were used as currency, but I actually carried with me some of their technology this whole time. I never took the time to discover their purpose.

I made my way through the tunnels to a museum dedicated to relics recovered from ancient civilizations. I thought that might give me some insight into their perception of time. I hoped then I could figure out when they expected this massive cataclysmic event.

So far it was impossible for me to determine what the event would be and when it was supposed to happen. I did not ask any of these beings any questions about the events. I only knew what I picked up here and there.

I was excited about seeing their archeological finds, but I could not rush to get there. These creatures did not display stress or excitement. They always went about their business at a leisurely pace. If I tried running, or even rushing, I knew I would draw unwanted attention.

Stifling my excitement, I entered the museum. The carven walls were high, the highest I encountered until now. Even the marketplace did not match these heights. It was shallower and more widespread.

The high walls were decorated with massive engravings. The ceiling was so high in this museum because of some of the things it contained. It appeared, in this ancient civilization, the dominant species walked upright. Many of the artifacts stood as tall as this body was long.

First, I encountered a display of fossilized animal remains. An engraved tablet described the animals as livestock. The body I inhabited ate only the fungi cultivated in this subterranean civilization. For some reason the thought of eating another animal made me feel sick and woozy.

I continued on to the next display, which was labeled as tools of the ancient civilization. I saw several familiar items in the display. One of the tools looked like the head of a pick-axe. Another of the relics appeared to be the tines from a metal rake. A large number of knives lay sealed up in a transparent case.

The next display caused me a great deal of anxiety. I could swear it was a car. There were many pieces missing, but what was there looked like an old sedan. It amazed me a civilization on another world could parallel humanity so well.

I got my answer when I approached the next display. This one contained the fossilized remains of the species that once dominated their world. Displays of stone tablets engraved in the ancient language sat scattered about the display. The words on the tablets were written in English. The skeleton was that of a human.

I did not get transported to another world when the invader and I traded bodies. I was still on Earth. I did not travel through space; my mind traveled through time. The cataclysm they anticipated was not about them; it was about humankind. They were waiting to witness the extinction of humanity.

It was right at this point I felt the owner of this body trying to return. One of the crystals on a belt I was wearing produced a sort of vibration. That was it. It used this crystal to take my body while forcing me into its own. I snatched the stone from the belt and tossed it across the room. The tug trying to force me back into my own body ceased.

Without the device, the being in my body could not return. I knew, whatever the extinction event was, it was going to happen soon. In the display along with the skeletal remains was a carving of what it once looked like. The granite statue was an almost perfect image of me.

I stood there looking at the preserved remains of my own body. It was no coincidence my possessor chose me. It was looking into how the owner of those remains lived.

I did not want to go back home. I would let that being who violated my body remain to face the extinction level event. I stayed in this underground network. In time I learned to act exactly like the others.