The following story was written purposely for inclusion in the Christmas special creative writing section and is the sequel to The Consumers. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
It’s the most terrifying thought and we all shared it. That they patiently wait until we’re securely comfortable again to initiate their attack. They are the gods, the ones who watch over us. I am one of the lucky ones, I have survived two close attacks with these beings.
My first encounter was when I was 12 years old, when I pathetically hid in my bedroom cupboard. The second time they attacked, it was much more elaborate and more devised. They waited for the time when everyone would be together, in the most cunning and evil way you could imagine. They targeted a time when large groups of people would be together. Christmas day.
Like terrorist attacks; we have to live with the threat and take them as part of our modern life.
For many years they have had a viewing window into our life, ours ways and how we go about life. I don’t think they mean to destroy us completely, in a way I sympathise with them. I think it’s a message or some kind of population number controlling. But I feel a particular affiliation with the beings themselves, ever since the day they spared my life. At times, I feel in communion with them. It sounds crazy I know, but as I write this I just know it makes sense in my own head.
Anyway, it seems odd writing this as my second entry and because so much time has elapsed since the last attack which happened when I was just a boy. In fact, now I have a little boy he’s 5 years old and everything I could ever imagine. Myself and his mother are recently separated but she had tentatively decided I could have him for Christmas eve. We were laying down to sleep, him in the spare room of my apartment and I in my master bedroom, when suddenly a florescent light beamed into mine and every room in the city’s bedroom. At first I thought I was dreaming, many nights after the initial attack I spent terrorised by these dark memories of that day.
At times, I forgot to understand what was real and what wasn’t and I couldn't separate the line. This was too vivid for any dream that's why I froze, it’s that initial thought, you cannot believe it’s happening and happening to you once again. I didn’t want to move, I didn’t want to do anything but I had to, I had a boy now to protective with my life.
What I found unusual this time around is, I always sleep with the television on in the background while I drift, I like something on and hate silence. So the television was still on working perfectly fine. I muscled the courage to sit up in the bed and try to think and process what was happening. Then what I saw terrified me in the most horrific way, I saw the familiar purple beam appear through the blinds and project itself onto the bed cover. It looked like it was scanning the patterned details of the duvet, as it drifted up towards the bottom of the bed. It’s moving away I thought to myself, then it changed direction as soon as it got it’s baring of the room, heading straight for me.
Moments later I waited for my demise patiently, to find out when I opened my eyes that the purple beam had gone. Why hadn’t it vaporised me? Usually in the old days it happened so quick and I imagine it’s causalities had found that comforting in comparison to this. Sweat was dripping from my brow, I looked outside and saw something more horrific than I saw before. It was my boy being taken into the metallic tripod. I screamed banging heavily onto the glass, I nearly broke my fist in rage and terror. But I was effectiveness against them. This was it. I prayed my life would end next. Then I fainted into unconsciousness.
I woke up in my bed, it was a beautiful Christmas day morning, it was 6am and snow had fallen on the windowsill outside. I recalled the events of the previous evening and dashed to my boys bedroom. I shoved the door open as quickly as I could and there was my boy fast asleep. Was it a dream? Did I dream the whole thing? I only hope so.
It was Christmas day morning and I couldn’t let these bad thoughts occupy my morning, there were presents to put out and the turkey to check on. I couldn’t let my boy see the worry on my face, it meant nothing today because today was all about family.
After we’d ripped open our presents we sat down to eat our first course together, the ex’s grandparents had now arrived and we all were enjoying the festivities. When suddenly a horrible ringing crippled my ear, I coiled in agony, then it disappeared again. So I took another sip of my Prosecco to quell the earache if it came back. Every time my lips touched the glass, I got the pain again. The pain was coupled with a sharp gush of purple light, and I knew it was them, it had to be them, they had done this to me. I tried to eat some of the turkey but every time I did, my body convulsed at the thought of it, as if something was trying to push the food right out of me and as if my body rejected it.
They had done something to me and it only seemed to affect me. The people around the table thought I’d gone crazy, and their faces...they looked at me with such disdain. Who could blame them? It was like I had food poisoning but nothing works that quickly. What was this terrible thing they had given me and why just me? I panicked at the thought they’d done the same with my boy because it meant the dream was real.
I retired to my bedroom, meanwhile the ex’s parents to clear away and finish off the Christmas festivities. Why should they suffer because of what was happening to me. I shut the blinds and went under the covers sleeping off the rest of the night.
In the morning, my head was filled with crazy thoughts that the world would end. I had dreamt about New years eve celebration on Times Square and was when everything really changed. I knew I was transforming the day I stopped eating, but it wasn’t until this day that knew I was different. I got up in the dark morning to head to the shower but my journey there was the strangest of things. The lights and shower had switched on by simply thinking about my morning routine. I was able to control everything in my life by a simple thought or emotion. I couldn’t possibly harness this type of power, not me, I’m not good enough.
So this is me now, on the second attack, not that we can really call it that. I was given the power of telepathy. What I can do with it, simply isn't something I can comprehend right now and remains of my boy from the night they took him? Would any one believe me? what would make me so special, nothing.
© 2015 R.S / Destroy//Exist.
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