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Alien

'Good night small one, for when you wake, you'll never be the same.'

By Sydney EssexPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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I live in the shadows. No one sees me. I don’t need a name… yet I’ve apparently been given the name “Alien.” They don’t know me. They wouldn’t want to if they had ever laid eyes on me. I guess I’m pretty much their worst nightmare. I look similar to the humans, I like to think, besides my skin being a bit too tight. It extenuates the muscles in my body and my cheeks are as wrinkled as the elderly in their race. This bottom jaw of mine comes to a point up towards the few teeth at the top of my mouth. My eyes are cloudy, but I see fine. There're multiple horns bulging from the top of my head. A new one sprouts on what they would call my birthday every year. Our years go by differently though. One year where I’m from is three years here. I’m 24 years old.

I came down here with a mission, though I had refused for this long. My dictator had told me by this day I had to have had it completed, or I was stuck down here. For now, I don’t mind as much, but I know I will end up regretting this in the long run. I’m expected as a green man with four fingers and an oversized head, but I do have one thing in common with the fictional aliens. I don’t have a nose. If I did have a nose, it would curl down into the space between my teeth. My dictator had it removed when I refused my last punishment. Somehow, this punishment would seem much worse.

I’ve planned it in my head, of course, but I didn’t think I’d do it until a while after the time he had decided to abandon me here amongst people who wouldn’t care to hear my story. People who would take one look at me and flee to the bravest of them and most likely tear me apart. They do such to those of their own race who are the slightest bit different. What is my likelihood of lasting here so long? Especially a weakling like me. I don’t use my powers to torture the humans like my people do. I’m the one that sits quietly in the corner. Sometimes I believe I was meant to be one of them, though they’d never accept me. Therefore, I’m going to do what I need to do.

I’ve been living in this corner behind a building that no creature enters nor exits for the past month, of my time of course. Every day, I see a young human being walk into his home. He looks about two years old to me, six to you. He’s always alone, so wiping the gathered information on his side shouldn’t be a big deal. Walking towards his home door wasn’t a god sent feeling. I feel as if I’m trespassing. The roads are dark with a few light up poles giving off enough light to see how empty the town is at this certain time of day. I can’t handle the thought of what I’m about to do. There he is, lying there in a peaceful rest. Thanks to me, that’s coming to a complete halt. My horns start growing longer and longer. I get a few inches taller and my muscles start bulging out to the point where my skin is now transparent. Letting out an awful screech that is so loud the boy wakes and the lights start to flicker, he sees me and is frozen in fear. The lights flicker slower and slower. As the lights are off, I begin laughing hysterically. They come back on and I hold completely still with a blank face. It becomes a pattern for about a minute until the lights stay off. I stop laughing and I inch closer and closer to where he’s sitting. It’s as silent as a funeral. The lights turn back on ever so suddenly, and he starts screaming. Face to face with me, I dislodge a tube that is attached to the back of my throat and rush it straight down his esophagus, sucking out pieces of his soul. Then, wiping his memory and putting him back to sleep, I whisper, “Good night, small one, for when you wake you’ll never be the same.”

monster
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About the Creator

Sydney Essex

19, Author, Mother of one

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