¨Alien Rebirth: Of Love and Death¨ - Novel - Part 1 (The Fine Arts)

    Something I’m working on at a slow pace. This is a new style of writing I am studying; in the style of Edgar Allan Poe and the beginnings of Stephen King (‘The Shinning’, ‘Carrie’, etc; because after a few books he changed style of writing).

    I try to analyze in detail the way the great masters do it (every style out there, or the ones that catch my attention), then I can better understand the way to get to the real essence of the many styles of the difficult but interesting art). So, I am in the last chapters. But this here is the beginning of the madness!

    The following is very strongly believed to be the gathered account and personal data of a scientist who was contracted by the American Government in 1936, and over several years thereafter, to visit all by-then-known Alien-crash sites, interrogate captured Alien Life Forms, dissect their physiology and possible past evolution, study and analyze all secret data compiled from the aforementioned proceedings. This scientist also wrote notes on or about classified documents which he came in contact with, and needless to say these in any way were related directly or indirectly to the organization, structure or operation for the collection of such critical information. This individual was discovered to have kept and maintained such personal notes and therefore scheduled for immediate termination. He narrowly escaped termination by the government and went into hiding soon after.

His involvement in these investigations spans over more than a decade. He was soon discovered living in a cattle farm, secretly with a new life and under a new name. Thus the mentioned farm was surrounded by intelligence agents, moving in and stalking well into the early-and-spooky morning. And so our story will commence once the scientist is alerted by the intrusion and tries to escape his fate for a second time.

Furthermore, this mentioned scientist… is me.

You should know this before we start: When you begin this here journey, it may disturb you. The real facts of something unknown to the simple, everyday man have a tendency to do exactly that, to form ideas and shape dreams, to govern over thoughts and distort reality as you once knew it. But, having carried that, this information needs to get out to the general public. “Knowledge is Power. Knowledge is Freedom.”

Enter at your own peril. And Godspeed!

¨I am only too conscious my end will not be long in coming; for sure, someone has poisoned me! I cannot rid my mind of this thought. . . .” I fear I am writing a requiem for myself.

~Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Before his death. (1756 - 1791)

    Long-range radar: technology/object-detection system which applies radio waves to determine the range, altitude, direction and speed of objects when “locked on.” This radar dish or antenna sends such pulses of radio waves or microwaves which bounce off of any mass directly in its path (feedback loops). Consequently, This receiving mass in its path immediately returns part of the mentioned wave to the dish or antenna (feedback loops) that is usually located where the transmitter is. it is basically brought into play by various NASA programs to track the signal from ballistic missiles and space objects (i.e. satellites). This one, of course, being the kind of experimental radar that was utilized by the military in a number of “Key air force bases” in New Mexico during 1947, and chiefly through June, July, September, October and November of the same year, following up to and throughout the Roswell Crash (crash that I have inspected personally with my team of experts. But, however, this story is not about that particular crash). Without further stretch, this type of radar is capable of producing specific fallout with catastrophic outcomes to Alien Identified Crafts (AICs), for this causes total malfunction in the propulsion system of some of these named AICs. These type vessels work with “Geomagnetic Propulsion.” Geomagnetic propulsion: Works by having two electromagnetic loops of current; the primary around the diameter of the AIC, the secondary perpendicular to the primary loop. Then both loops working in unison supply hovering capability and perfect stability to stealthily control the craft in question.

    Chapter One – “A fate of the darkest kind”

    Somewhere in Mendoza, Argentina. Around 11:00 PM. Present time. A somewhat bucolic chalet well-distanced from the hubbub of the city. Impressive mountains would be seen from its large garden were it not for the shadows of the foreboding-and-cold night. Slim, tall, well-rooted trees flourishing their arms at the violent cackle of the pounding winds, and so there are no smells of lavender, mentha, or fresh-cut grass, for the howling and almighty phantom takes it all as his. Way into the distance, about 30,000 ft. into the black sky, enclosed and intoxicated by a veil of diamond dust, there’s a hint of the black-and-white Moon which dares to shine its beam and chase away the stalking monsters of the murky night. Chase away without success.

Darkness. More than the simple absence of light. Where mainstream monsters dwell.

Darkness. A unique product of our wild-human imaginations. Where all reason dies and all backbone begins its tingling.

Darkness. Blackness. Obscurity. Words describing hidden intentions, hidden purposes. Darkness. People all over the world are scared of darkness. Fear of the black and unknown void. Fear of what’s lurking out there. People of all ages. All civilized human species suffer this disease. The intelligent. The average. The idiot. The learned. The unlearned. And, well, I would say 98% of all of them do, one way or the other, and even if they talk big about being brave in the Face of It. However, as you well know, is not the actual Dark that we fear but what awaits in it, what infests our already wild thoughts before its eerie presence. And, as Darkness goes, the great and uncharted, the inextinguishable and ever-expanding, Outer Space is the single greatest form of It, of the unknown, the very thing we’ve known to fear our entire lives. The largest and most terrifying closet. The space under our bed that never ends. The unsolved puzzle that challenges our reason and gets a hold of our dreams and nightmares. And so it seems reckless, even suicidal, to step boldly into that frontier without first examining, experimenting, and pushing back as much of the unknown as possible.

So, the main question of this story here, and the main question I desire to have linger in your mind as you peruse ahead, is as follows: What if what this outer space hides is physically here before us already? Or, better put: What if in fact what infests our wild thoughts in the face of the Darkness from beyond is real, too real to even comprehend? …Just keep that in the back of your mind for now. Let it take you over slowly as you read on.

But in all honesty, real thing is, they shouldn’t fear Darkness, people that is. Now, I speak from experience when I say we should embrace it. Use it to become stronger. To become more mentally adapt to any situation we may encounter, whether tangible or not, whether positive or not. To be more. To reach for more. To be unique. To stand out from the crowd. To learn to control our own mind, which is the greatest and most powerful piece of technology ever designed, which displays the essence of our existence, which holds the ever-searched answers of our own universe and other universes, which makes us who we are and what we can do. Blah, blah, blah, and so forth. You get the point, right? Or maybe you think this is all a bunch of hooey. Garbage. Nonsense. Poppycock. Whatever you want to call it. And whatever you want to tell your weak self to keep fear of Darkness intact and in control of your mind, of your senses.

But, like I said before, you’re not the only one, because you’re with that 98% I’ve mentioned. You’re not alone then. So fear of Darkness must be the popular consensus. And it is justified in a minimal but powerful sense. And, yes, I said “minimal,” so don’t go thinking your weakness receives a especial pardon or something like that. Fear is a primal emotion and is associated with ancients parts of our brain. And I do not pretend to get into a whole thing here, but, since science is and has always been my life, I will shortly explain it thusly: From the beginning of us, Mother Evolution has created several coherently operating neural systems which help orchestrate and coordinate perceptual, behavioral, and physiological changes that promote survival in the face of danger.

The emotional experience of fear then arises from a conjunction of neural processes which prompt us to hide or flee (or freeze in the spot, in extreme cases) if any real or even created danger is close, distant, or even inescapable. One of the most horrible experiences in life is to be stricken by sudden terror, especially if it is, umm, let us just say for now, “of unconventional status and morphology.” Another, for this particular case working side by side, is to be continually devoured by the persistent feeling of anxiety that gnaw away at you beyond calmness or even reason itself, the powerful “illusion” destroying your sense of security in the world. Darkness of mind is that powerful illusion, that feeling of anxiety, that sudden terror, that lack of calmness or reason. And I am one with Darkness. Been for a long time. Since the coldish autumn of 1949. It swims in my blood. It fills my brain cells. It corrupts my humanity in ways you could never imagine...

And, of course, a bit about Love now, which it will also absorb this drama. Well. Love is most grand. The greatest gift from our Maker. Love can twist a broken man, turn him into an angel and take him to heaven. The one and only Heaven, that is. Where cherubs frolic and that sweet, harmonious song washes all memory of past sin and confusion, where everything becomes clear and objective, and where everything can start anew. ‘I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death…’ That passage from the poetics of Elizabeth Browning, such is how I felt. More than negative and positive matter and all further micro building blocks we humans know to exist, Love is the stuff of the universe and universes. Love is like Time. It is ubiquitous. It is resilient. It is intangible. It is the connection to everything material and immaterial. And as the almighty Time, it cannot be killed; maybe ignored, postponed, or buried under irrelevant, emotional layers, but surely not killed. Like energy, it cannot vanish or die in the ether. And that must be why from Cupid’s arrow to the bitterness of heartbreak, poets and philosophers have written genius and conveyed emotion through time about Love and its complexities, about its eternal youth and supremacy over all other. And, like hinted before, Love can save a man from himself, even from absolute Darkness.

Sometimes. Depends on such Darkness, on its intensity, on its spread on your brain, on your heart, on your very soul, like the most foul and devouring disease. And so. And so I thought I could be saved by the most beautiful-and-intriguing creature, by the most perfect-and-compatible soul, whose sole glance could burn all my sins, whose single hand touch could erase all monstrosity from my skin, whose cherry-flavored lips on mine could rapture me into a most divine-and-benevolent god, and whose gracious-and-mellifluous voice could tame the monster in me, the beast within me. And she did love me, like I loved her. But, regrettably, it was too late. And we shared our love. Until something happened. Something horrible.

    But, having established that premise, I must come back to the beginning, for every story has a beginning. So. Dark. Dark. Dark. Like the room where I am stewing in my memories. Here, where I sit on my black, leather sofa chair. To match the darkness around me. To match my very soul and my turbulent past, my present and my future. Perhaps the military boys won’t see a chalet with no light and so drive their tanks right past it. Perhaps the Big Government of the United States doesn’t think I’m a threat anymore. Perhaps they have decided the truth will come out anyway, so, they say, “Let it be.” Not likely. But what happened to me? Is this all a dream? Have I been dreaming and now woken up in my beautiful place near the majestic mountains in Mendoza? Because it certainly feels like it, except for the flow of mental agility, my warped physiology, and my certain physical traits. My God! And the blood! The blood in my hands! It is horrible.

But, however, I have lost certain human emotions, certain human traits. I had to. I had to turn on the lamp resting on the antic table by the sofa chair. I keep repeating myself that. Yes. ‘I had to.’ And I see it now. I stand by the mirror on the wooden wall and I see it now. I see the monster that I have become. The monster they have made of me. The fiend that infiltrates. The fiend that deceives. The fiend that destroys. Goodness’ sake! The fiend that follows blind orders. Not even a scientist anymore. Not even a human anymore. What da hell am I? Human? Extra-Terrestrial? A grotesque mock to God’s perfect nature? Or perhaps a terrible ridicule straight from nature? And what’s this nature I’m speaking of? Alas, my physical woes are too many to count. I only dare to name but the very few which start the imagination and stir the blood: My sunken eyes are brimming with rage that I suppress, lost in the confusion of it all, optical nerves knotted in the miasma of the horror I’ve seen. My ears. My ears, they have heard the Devil cry, and they have listened to too much of the supernatural and of the noises of plotting and destruction. They merge with the grayish-orange of the rest of my skin color. There was radiation. Yes. The radiation of their technology. The one that abused my cells and immune system like I was a dull terrain to be mapped, to be built. That left me exposed to the very merciless-and-twisted human nature, that left me dormant under the sharp claws of the scientific charlatan. That started it all.

Jeez, I have to get me a drink first.

Scotch on the rocks, my favorite. Most Scotch aficionados will swear by drinking the Scotch neat or without any ice and water. But a couple of ice cubes or a little water can actually accentuate the flavors much nicer than drinking it straight or neat. Also, adding a little bit of water makes the whiskey much more palatable to people who are not exceptionally fond of the smoky taste of the whiskey. I take pride on it. Imported actually. Scotland. Where else?

Crash!— Goddammit! The glass. Shit. My hands started to shake violently. I guess I’m suppressing too much rage again. I received a few lesions between the cortex of my frontal lobes and the rest of my central nervous system, between the self-reflective portions and the more instinctual portions of the brain; all this meaning, “episodic violence” that I had to learn how to control. Problem is, though, I can’t control it but only suppress it, which means at some point it will come out and erupt like a volcano. Maybe I let the volcano erupt when those bastards come to get me. What do you think? God knows they deserve it.

Anyway, I’ll get myself another drink and I’ll let you in on what happened to me, let you in on my disturbing story. Blast!— I hate my fingernails. They look like five tiny and razor-sharp blades caressing my new glass of whiskey. I used to be able to cut them, but not anymore; they break the clippers like soft plastic. Luckily, they don’t grow that long from my fingertips anymore; they’ve stopped growing a year ago or so.

So, back on my sofa, next to my lamp light and surrounded by the darkness I have grown so accustomed to, I now caution you to better buckle up for the bumpy journey ahead. That is, buckle up for the many things that will go bump in the night.

    Somewhere in the outskirts of New Mexico. Around 5:00 AM. 

    Autumn of 1949. A rural and very grassy field, empty and dark as the very soul of the monster inside all human beings waiting to lunge out, waiting to be triggered by the unknown, waiting for the deceit and plotting of men of great greed and control. Spooky like the feeling you get when lights are off and you’re all alone, hopelessly wallowing in the mental rape of your own mind and in the violent taboo of the really aberrant and morbid. Breezy as the extremely powerful sense of loneliness of the bullied and the homeless, without friends or family to offer them a safe haven, without a path and without a creed to give them meaning and purpose. This is where the ghouls of decadence and indignation dwell, far from high-city peeping toms and industrial pollution. This is where there’s no noise, more than of nature and of God himself.

But nature was mocking me and didn’t care.

But God wasn’t home that fateful morning.

    Never. Never my legs ran so fast. I’m sure the muscle fibers firing in them were exploding like anti-aircraft artillery. Adrenalin was pumping so hard through my system I swear I wasn’t even aware that I was running at times. Due to this, the grassy ground was made of darkened clouds and nightmares of what was happening. I shouted, “I’m a scientist, for God’s sake!” and “A man of mind and intellect!” and finally, “My responsibility is to reveal the truth to the world!” and not satisfied with that, I opened my mouth again, but this time with much more passion and unbroken spirit, “I won’t be kept under chains anymore or be buried under a mirror of lies!” But I really wasn’t that sure anymore, for my brain was in actual knots and I could feel it tugging the anxiety and horror my mind was creating. In fact, if I‘d been a sole neuron with a seat of the main attraction up there, I imagine I would’ve seen the fantastical synaptic transmission in between brain cells just losing it at each other like World War II. I couldn’t think straight. Even my eyes were searching for a way out, and there wasn’t much awareness of my surroundings either; but there had to be cattle—you know, cows, oxen, a few sheep. In all honesty, I think even the animals got somewhat spooked by the loud voices and shooting, as I remember some rapid hustle and bustle behind me. The field was too vast for me to have had any possible sense of direction, specially because darkness was all around me. And if I didn’t trip or got lost completely was only because of the innate muscle memory I had acquired from all my farming days (which felt enough at the moment to compensate for my lack of inner compass).

So I knew. I knew running was all I could do to protect my freedom, to use my voice and to state the facts which had transpired within all those gruesome meetings of the mysterious and bizarre, within all those torture rooms from Hell, within all those excessive interrogation sessions that came to pass of cloak-and-dagger nature, and from what I had learned and encountered myself the very epitome of the macabre and the wretched through years and years of sleepless nights, of unspeakable nightmares from beyond the veil in front of our eyes. And as you can tell I wasn’t just thinking about my physical freedom, but, and remember this words, ‘I was thinking about my spiritual-and-mental freedom.’ Although the loud voices of my executioners kept ringing in my ear, being catapulted from a good distance behind me, “Stop running and you won’t be harmed, doctor!,” and, “Get yourself on the ground NOW!!” All drivel to confuse me further, obviously. And so right then and there, I thought to myself, ‘Who da hell do you think you’re talking to, asshole?,’ and, ‘Won’t harm me…?? Really? Certainly you cannot think me that na?ve.’ Oh, for heaven’s sake, asinine bloodhounds these were! I’d been on the run for a while now. My gathered personal data, my high-collected intellect had massive and specific information that could certainly change the course of history as humans knew it, and that could certainly take away credibility and power from our government, very much control indeed, hurt them deeply—Ancient-Alien particulars, grandiose-and-governmental deals and clandestine cover-ups, mind-control experiments, secret societies, religious shifts in human history, so-called paranormal “accidents,” technological advances, and so on and so forth.

These guys were going to blow my top off and then use it as a soup bowl! I was scheduled for immediate termination and they were trying to take me for a complete fool still by telling me that I wouldn’t be harmed if I surrendered. Jeez. And these were so-called “Intelligence Agents.” Dimwitted, Men-In-Black clowns is more what I would call them. And no, I didn’t think so. Giving up was not an option for me, because is not in my nature—then, human nature; after that, who knows. But, at that exact instance in time, in my extremely nervous and highly overwhelmed state, something happened. Something my brain couldn’t quite register. Something my mind saw as hazy and interruptive. And something eerie in all human form that I had never experienced before while, in the past, being chased by these government-meat-headed jocks. It collapsed, plain and simple. And so as I was running then, time was warped, annihilated, stopped in its tracks. Time was literally slowed down at a great, and I mean GREAT, extent. For example, imagine you are hundreds of feet below the water and you see fish swim very slowly by you, your own movements have also become lethargic and heavy, surrounded by the massive water pressure, and everything looks so eerie around you, so other-dimensional, and you now feel hopeless in a sense because you can’t escape this terrible pressure—you are not in control any longer. That’s exactly how I felt. That’s exactly what happened.

And as time slowed down, I felt lighter, less in control of my own physical body, with a major decrease of my mental focus; still rooted on the grassy ground but now immovable, to be more precise, functioning at a 60% capacity less than the usual 100%-movement capacity. It felt like a dream, but REAL. It felt like an over-all Taking of some Supernatural Sort. It felt like a momentous-and-spellbinding rapture. Spiritual maybe? Physical? Mental? All of the above? My recollections of this particular data are suffused with so many images, flashes of an unclear potency, dare to say explosions of sound, color, and encrypted information—more like if I had been on LSD (a hallucinogenic drug) and was now trying to give you details of what I saw under that unrealistic state of mind.

So I am trying to look for the correct description in the back of my own mind, in the memories bordering my subconscious. A low, metallic buzzing kept beating down upon my ears, which startled me at first. Then there was a sudden, very explosive and blinding, bright light. It projected right in front of me and seconds later it diminished in intensity, such diminished and stayed in the normal luminosity of a semi-potent neon lighting. And intense heat. But this heat felt as if coming from my own skeletal muscles, from my own body temperature—more like when someone spends a whole two hours lifting heavy weights at the gym. My breathing rate was normal but this tremendous heat was that severe, at which I recall perfectly that I really thought I was dying because the air had been cold and breezy before this sudden sensation. And visible ripples gathered around me, of what seemed to be oxygen droplets, such suspended in a time warp and in the air about me. The blackness of that fateful morning had been affected as well, not only by the bright light in the sky and in front of me, but also by the hundreds of ripples in the air that started emanating positron emissions or tiny bursts of energy.

And I said positron emissions because, to my later knowledge, I gathered there could’ve been, more than possibly, radioactive decay of some external source in the air around me. Let me explain in one sentence: Radioactive decay, also known as nuclear decay or radioactivity, is the process by which a nucleus of an unstable atom loses energy by emitting ionizing radiation. In short, something had to be losing this unstable-atom energy, such being something external and quite big. But just keep that in mind also for now, as answers will be revealed as you live my story. These tiny bursts of energy were, to describe literally what I felt, CRUCIFYING ME. The pain was grievous to a point, as it felt like it were stretching without mercy my skin tissue, the cellular makeup of it; but, however, my heart wasn’t pounding and I wasn’t sweating, which meant that adrenaline and certain other chemicals weren’t being produced in mass by the brain in response to the mentioned terrible pain, or, at least, the electrical pathways were being blocked somehow.

Something that, in the critical impasse of the terrible event, took me a couple of seconds to figure out, but, being a neuroscientist of vast experience, I finally did despite the pain felt. And I cannot explain myself the strange, dare to say morose, details of the exo-physiological process, but I do know that radioactivity and Magnetic Transcendence Technology had something to do with the disturbing and painful ordeal. And so my brain was unable to think further, unable to think about the source of this transfiguring discharge. My mind had become mush. The light in the sky was all I could see. Everything mimicked a “Twilight Zone” episode, where you don’t really know what’s happening or who you really are or how to wake up from the horror and paranormal taking place. And at some point, I wasn’t even aware of my own body. And, obviously, I’ve had forgotten completely about my brain-washed-and-obtuse pursuers, and neither heard no gunfire nor retarded shouting for the rest of the time collapse. …

PPPPHHHHEEEEWWW… ZZZRR-ZZZRR… ZZZRR-ZZZRR… ZZZRR-ZZZRR… Oh, hell— The sole recollection of the annoying and unsettling tick my muscles and nerves had absorbed make the tiny hairs on my skin stand on end even now. Kind of a small jolt really. And so the world spun like a top. My head. My head was not right. Was not screwed on right, or, at least, didn’t feel like it was. It did not hurt one bit, but it certainly felt quite light and dizzy, like I was enjoying the sequel of too much alcohol consumption without the usual drilling felt in my head. My eyelids felt heavy at first, but then they adjusted to normalcy. It was all very quick, too quick to even recall. Damn. Imagine my surprised-and-flabbergasted look when I first eyed my dark surroundings. The bright light was gone. The ripples were a send-off. The stretching of my skin cells was hasta la vista, baby. The time collapse was adieu. I was located horizontally and immersed in grassland. What—? Where—? It took me a few seconds but I was finally able to take in my environs with full awareness. And, at the same time, I realized the painless, electric shock coursing through my veins had lessened greatly, and so it continued to do so.

ZZZRR-ZZZRR… It was also gone completely in a few more seconds. The conclusion of. Something macabre. Whatever. Whatever the heck it had been. So I staggered up and concentrated on my breathing and muscular exertions. I needed to make sure that my body was free and back to normal. It was indeed back; the right temperature, the right movement, the right flexibility and strength. Which it amazed me, given the past, abnormal occurrences in and around my physical and mental persona. I then shook my hands some more and stretched my legs in a cautious fashion once I verified my firm footing on the ground. I felt. I felt eerie, not myself for a few seconds; however, it wasn’t a physical, mental, or even physiological isolation that abused me, but it was the very thought that I wasn’t nowhere near the area or field where I’d been affected by the powerful light a few seconds ago. What on earth had happened? Why the time lapse? Why didn’t I remember how I’d arrived where I was now standing? So I took a look around. Saw the eye of blackness still.

There!— There was the spot where I had been when it happened! My brain focused then on the distance the time lapse had taken away from my memory. My mental calculations gave me about forty to fifty feet distance from the spot in question to my new location. I knew I was right because there, exactly where I’d been, stood a warning sign related to farming of some sort and the flashlights of my inexorable pursuers shone bright on its metallic surface. “Hey!— What da fuck was that?!— It was like a pulsating light up in the sky.” I guess they were also confused like me. But, nonetheless, the one in charge wanted to finish the job at all costs, “Never mind that! Look for that sonofabitch doctor!” Then, one of them that was closer rammed the powerful beam of his light on me. “There he is!—” Adrenalin kicked me like the most enraged bull! My nerves hammered like a poltergeist with a vengeance! The violent-and-sudden voices pierced my ears with the force of an oncoming train! A dozen flashlights beaming at me all of sudden! Instantly, the muscles of both my legs punted like in football, they screamed at the overflow of blood and spread of branching nerves. For one second, I sized up a main direction. Of course, I didn’t know exactly where I was and the blackness around me was no friend of mine.

NOT YET anyway. I took off blindly into a not-so-distant maize plantation. My neighbor’s. I hadn’t visited these parts for a while, the outside borderline of my fields, but what I remembered was that these corn plants towered almost ten feet in height. Bingo! I could have a chance to maybe lose them there, or, at least, gain some valuable time. The breeze was brutally cold on my face, like the coldest blade caressing you after a very hot shower. And my step was heavy but swift. Moreover, I didn’t even want to look behind me. Didn’t want to burn my eyes with the belligerent sight of the candescent-and-unscrupulous government mercenaries. Mercenaries. Puppets. Robots in black suits that wanted to terminate me for once and for all, but, more clearly put, stop my curious-and-loud existence and wipe out the same from all human history. And wipe out is the correct word; I was a ghost, a contracted man of science that had worked under shadows for years and years, under iron fist and chained to secrecy and deceit. Needless to say, no one cared and no one knew about me. And, of course, these programed goons were counting on this solitude. I was alone. Yes. Completely alone and on my own like I’ve always been, ever since my mother disappeared without a trace.

I must’ve been nine or ten years old when my alcoholic father left us, and I don’t even remember why the selfish bastard did what he did. Shit, I don’t even care. But indeed I was just a very curious-and-impish rascal with a serious knack for stating my mind aloud and doing open surgery on bugs and rodents. We lived near the backwoods of a Mississippi hellhole, in very poor conditions, where there were a lot of bugs and the like. I recall a couple of winters when infestation was great; snakes, rodents, bugs would look for warmth to escape the outside cold, and so enter the house. We couldn’t do much more than using small traps and spray insecticide. One time I’ve gotten bitten by a small snake, but, fortunately, it wasn’t poisonous and the bite wasn’t that deep. But, the good thing was, at the end of winter I would have many carcasses to study outside, and some inside as well. Scientific curiosity. Scientific mind. Bravado. Unique among my same-age school friends and acquaintances. My mother, as you can guess, did see me as strange and unusual. She couldn’t understand why at my age I wasn’t running around and making a fool out of myself like the rest of the kids she knew. She couldn’t grasp the concept that I had vision of much more, to be much more, and so she couldn’t see what I could see. One day she found all the personal notes in my room, all my profound thoughts and scientific research, all the syringes I would use to extract blood from one creature and juice it up in the other, all the removed internal organs, and so forth.

There had to be like twenty small notepads with professional entries of my own findings, date, time, smells, viscosity, reactions of live hosts. Books on biology and anatomy. I even had two rats in cages. I owned a rusty, old microscope which I had found in the garbage can in the back of a hospital. Everything well hidden, or so I thought, under a loose floorboard right underneath my bed and also in a closet. Her surprise! It is indeed burned in my memory! Well, let us just say, that one really scared the pants off of the old lady. So much so she let it rip on me high and low, like stationed right underneath a very fierce storm with no way out. Due to this major shock for her, she forced me to go to a psychologist that dismissed me in two sessions. He said, and I quote: ‘Your son is a normal kid, just ahead of his age. His intellectual prowess and maturity only matches his thirst for learning and discovering the world most people ignore and take for granted.’ But, of course, despite that, she never understood the genius growing within me, like many of the simple kids in my neighborhood. And so I continued my normal behavior.

Then, like a week later, unconventionally for her character, she took me to see a priest, one of those wackos that relate everything to Satan and the mystic. He went on and on about our savior Jesus Christ, The High Demons, and the weakness of a child and whatnot. Anyway, this very particular clown said that for a small donation my soul could be cleansed and saved, and that I could be cured of my “unnatural obsessions.” You know, the typically old nonsense. And the “small donation” turned out to be one-thousand dollars. We got the hell out of there seconds after the words “one-thousand dollars and small donation.” Then my mother let it go, but had me on lock down for a month and threw out all my instruments and my notes. I was devastated and cried for a week, loud and irreverent tantrums, cursed and kicked my anger, my impotence away. I loved my mother very, very much, but, to be perfectly candid with you, I felt like she was treating me like a normal-and-stupid, little child. And, what was worse, she was treading on my dreams. I think it is extremely important to encourage and push your child to dream, no matter how ambitious and far-fetched those seem to be at the moment.

Jeez. Back then I damned those days.

But, alas, c’est la vie.  

A few years later, when I was fourteen years old if my memories don’t fail me, my mother and I were watching a movie on TV, a horror movie at about midnight more or less. After we’d heard a low but continuous buzzing outside, she told me to stay inside and went to see what it was. She had left me alone at 12 AM, and, even though I was a very mature and brave kid for my age, I became nervous and jumpy at the very thought of solitude. And, obviously, the big imagination that I had did not help. So after twenty minutes or so, such buzzing stopped gradually, like getting farther and farther away from the house. Long story short, she never came back that night. Or ever.

Back to it then. I didn’t stop running through the grass under my feet. My rushing thoughts were towards that maize. That extensive corn plantation. It was close. Really close. Through the foggy blackness of the predominant morning ether I was able to see the outline of the slim branches and leaves. Bang!— Bang!— The projectiles scraped the space around me, they created a void that shook my ears and my whole being. They were too close now. Violent voices and hasty commotion filled the air. I did not turn around, but I could tell they were wearing those night-vision glasses or binoculars (not to be confused with the still night-vision goggles we have now-a-days; the CIA and FBI did not have those as standard yet). They probably had me on their sights, too. Dammit! I prayed for corn, and I wasn’t much of a fan of it either. Bang!— I didn’t know why at that exact moment, but I dove headfirst into the grassy land, rolled in a forward fashion. It was like I had been pushed but I did not feel it, it had been involuntary muscle contraction. Something small had stung me, it had bit me in the upper leg. What da hell—?! And when I stopped rolling I searched it, but it was too dark and my brain could not focus. Too much adrenaline. Jeez! C’mon!! There was no time. I jumped up. “Oomph— Dammit!” I said.

They were coming on the double, for I’ve had laid a quick eye on their dooming silhouettes. “Stop right there!” I brushed the spot on my leg with my hand. The wetness thereby held my nerves hostage and on a stick. It was surely blood. Damn. I just hoped to God I could run and disappear into the towery maize. The wound didn’t hurt, however, just stung a bit. No big deal, although I knew it would hurt after the colossal waves of adrenaline had ran out. If I survived the present, that was. So it had been just a scratch. I kept on ahead as quick as I could. My pace wasn’t as quick, but still I could run. My heavy respiration was the only thing I could hear now, as the convoluted rumble of my exhausted lungs, as the nonstop thud of my heart and brain, and as the harsh cry of my human soul. But it would not end like this. Bang!— I was more than sure. Here came the threshold or partition. Still I continued ducking and zigzagging my form, until— “Ugh!— Jeez! What is this?!” I said aloud. Now, I wasn’t cut but something had definitely drilled my legs in two points, and my stomach and chest. Then it came to me: Barbed Wire! Yes. I’d forgotten. It’s there to delineate or border the maize.

The damned barb hadn’t caused me any big harm, just a strong set of pokes that had made a few scratches on me, because I was wearing my work jeans and my sweater of thick fabric. So as I was standing, I quickly dove and swam along this barbed-wire demarcation. I felt for a space with my hand and found it; like one foot tall from the ground up to squeeze myself through it to the other side. Meanwhile, I could hear the kerfuffle closer to where I was now; they had lost me, and I saw their dominant flashlights scanning the quarter near me. “Search the area! Look in the grass!” I flattened myself to the ground, ignoring the dooming voices. I was, in a sense, relieved a little, since I could try and make my disappearing act now. In the nick of time and below the shadows of unknown premonitions, I entered the labyrinth of cereal crop. I could feel the lessened fury of the wind in between the stalks. The slight smell of fresh vegetation inundated by just a friendly breeze. The food grains were above me, for I was on my four and trying to create not a violent movement that could rattle the plants and alert my pursuers.

I felt the rich farming earth accumulating between my fingers every time I crawled a step into the deep. Mind you, the stalks weren’t that separated from each other, but I did have enough legroom to go on my escape. Thus I followed a sole path in between rows and ignited the possibility of direction in me. It had to be there, as I tried a more Zen approach and calmed my nerves down. I controlled my breathing and focused on more coherent thoughts. And, while this, I said to myself to mind loud thoughts, lest I clumsily hesitated and made a sudden mental or physical mistake. Mistakes would literally have ended my life right then and there. Summon the real, so-called “patriotic” demons on my tail, as it were. My self-critiquing and inner chastising were examples of my perfectionist persona— Why didn’t I build that bunker underneath my ranch, where these goons weren’t going to find me? Why on earth didn’t I run overseas when I had the chance? Why this? And why that? I should have? And I shouldn’t have? Yes, indeed. I was really ticked at myself. But not ticked as in angry, but ticked as in finding the root problem of my quandary. Well, maybe just a little bit angry with myself, too. And so I was chatting with myself back and forth thusly. And this must’ve been going on for a while because I remember myself looking up, then to the sides, and then to the back of me; thanks to some feeble moonlight, I could see the prints and man-made path my crawling had left upon the semi-moist earth in between the vegetable stalks. I probably had made about fifty feet without noticing, or maybe a few more. The mysteries of the mind, right? I get like this sometimes; I become obsessed with my own thoughts, with my own success and mistakes; it is my own process for self-realization, and also my coping mechanism to thrive under highly stressful conditions.

And the weak moonlight, or maybe the minuscule beam of a waking sun, was casting right over me now, which I thought freakishly odd because before I had not encountered this welcomed Muse. I ignored this and kept up my pace. Seconds later, I found myself stopping abruptly and cocking my head. I looked back and cringed at the distant voices. “Search every row! Every inch of this shit! Use your night-vision devices!” They were everywhere the maize, covering a very vast perimeter, getting closer to me. “I want him found! And remember to shoot to kill if you have to!” Blast! How did they know where to look?! And how had they moved so fast on me?! I was certainly at death’s door. A mere piece of meat for the black wolf stalking the night. I could see in between and beyond the many rows of plants. It was more like peeking through window blinds and into the devouring night at several midnight-stalking, shadow huntsmen who only wanted the head above my shoulders on a platter.

And so I could discriminate their projected outlines and moving shadows, which brought straight chills to my already tingling spine. Like lightning, my crawling away from these monsters of the night started again, but it wasn’t fast enough to make a distance difference. So I wished upon a star. Upon my cunning intellect. Upon God. Upon anything that would make me lose them. But it was not so. This was too real for any wish. The agents of death got my scent right away, just like a pack of rabid bloodhounds. Shit. My stupidity. My clumsiness. My emotional outburst had to be. When my right knee banged hard on one of the well-rooted, bamboo-like plants, well, as you can guess, that sent instantaneous signals of my exact location. As they answered with swift bloodlust to my deadly-and-stupid faux pas, a thousand beams of condemning light were all over me like grease on a fast-food hamburger. As I jumped up and commenced zigzagging in the labyrinth of terror, I felt like a chicken, a turkey or a rabbit, or any small prey being hunted mercilessly by heartless humans. Bang!— Sounded not-too distant from my ear! At that exact moment, after I cursed the very heavens above me, I really thought the ear closest to the sudden noise had exploded, and I even imagined my ear bleeding nonstop, bathing my shoulders and dripping down my moving arm to finally splash into the rich-plantation soil. While in the stupor of this my nearing re-birth—word you will come in terms with later—and in the untainted angst of my escape, I noticed the weak moonlight had managed to become quite robust, in size not intensity. So much so that now there was a giant beam lighting my path and pinpointing my precise location to my pursuers, just like a huge helicopter with a big spotlight trained specifically on me.

And it happened that this fantastical beam had a perfectly round circumference of about 20- to 30-ft. diameter. It was following me, or so it seemed to me at that time. Furthermore, I did not look up, even though it was right above me, for I knew that would only slow me down and expose me more to my certain death. Death which I could actually feel nibbling at my ankles. I lamented my troubles with strength and poise, yet disdain towards the cult of The High Lords. Oh, woe is me! Woe is me in my mortal predicament. Of all the scientists and intellectuals in the world, this had to happen to me. Blast! And I repeated, Blast! Why does The Government has to always subjugate and puppet their own people, make it about money and extortion, glory and power? Are these both the Freedom of Speech and the Legacy from our Forefathers I should feel proud and elated about? And I searched for the answers in me. Yes. And I searched for the truth in me. And damned who knew the truth or the answer. And I knew both. Nibbling. Nibbling at my ankles forthwith.

And as I was in this here attempt of fast getaway, the bright ghost which had been watching me from the skies had now left me to fend for myself. And so I felt somewhat depleted of energy, a feeble constraint in the current vow of my rebelling soul, in my unique toughness of mind. I do not know what it was, but that strange light which had lasted about thirty seconds had managed to aid in my noble purpose, to falter in my self-doubt. My courage was untouched, though. My evil pursuers aiming their energy rays at me and all around me. There were no shots being fired. But they were coming. And it was just a matter of time until they ravished the unnerving silence again. Immediately, I tried to re-group my own thoughts and emotions in one vital life-source, in that deep survival instinct human beings possess when against the unavoidable wall. I weaved and bobbed through the thickness of the plants of corn, through the hundreds of rows and furrows on the gentle earth. I was now poorly guided by the natural, frail light of the early day, for darkness had abated a 30 or 40%. I then scrutinized through the shadows and ahead of me, wishing that I was right and that this wasn’t just another ruse of the blackened deep to confuse me further. I saw the ending or beginning of the maize, my way out, where to run on even ground to pick up speed. And I saw a building, most likely my neighbor’s barn, where to hide myself or lose them or try something, but definitely not where to die. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of the wolf’s cavernous mouth, but, as aforementioned, death WAS NOT an option.

It was a surreal but very strong feeling I had at that moment, and one such to go with my uniquely resourceful will to live on. Then the loud voices started again but the flashlights had retired from marking me, and it also seemed they had lost me again due to my strategic movements; I knew how to move in these fields due to my everyday farming work, but they didn’t have a clue, and I bet they felt lost like a little child left alone in the mall. I picked up my pace and kept zigzagging. Leaves and buds of the cereal food caressed my face with a mild sharpness. I was much closer now. I was tired of running but the adrenaline would get me through it, I knew this to heart. And the strength exercise I’ve had accustomed my body and mind to endure every day coupled with the farming work I habituated myself with, as I knew, was certainly paying off as well. Near the finish line then, I shoved some more plants out of the way and I studied my front vistas. Nothing scenic or panoramic about it, just a poor view of a solitary barn and some bundles of hay located one-hundred feet apart from the main ranch house and horse stable. And then I looked behind me, I could see them but I wasn’t sure they could see me. I turned around and I heard it.

The black Angel. The Returned Omen of Darkness itself. The low, metallic buzzing from before! Hell! What now?! It started low but then, as I was running to the distanced building, it crescendoed into a far-away requiem. I stopped and looked up at the sky— There it was! Looking at me like an evil eye through a peephole which hemmed itself absolutely demonic in the dead skies. The infernal bright light! It was moving slightly, as if vibrating in place at extremely high speeds. What in da world—?! It couldn’t be! But what da hell was it really?! By the strenuous movement and incessant buzzing emitted I could designate it as an object, a very bright object that was approaching me. And, like I said, it was metallic, as per the increasing, ear-splitting noise. Plane…?? Experimental Air Force craft…?? A falling star as it enters the atmosphere to become a meteor…?? Wha—?! Then it snatched it away, BANG-sweesh!! “AGH!!— Shit!” My brain didn’t compute right away what had happened, then I heard the voices and I knew without a doubt. They had shot my arm! Christ!! I had completely forgotten about my unrelenting pursuers. The pain was fairly intense, a pulsating sting which tugged on my nerves like the ‘Tug of War’ game. Blood was immediately running down my left arm. At first I had thought a big chunk had been blown off, but, to my partial relief as I checked the wound, it’d been just a graze in veracity.

“There!—” one shouted raucously. “I think I got him!” “Doctor, stay where you are!” Among the towery plants of corn, about forty feet away from where I was and directly facing me, they were quickly swarming like Biblical locusts. Consequently, I gritted my teeth, held my injured arm to my body, and so continued racing in direction to the old barn. And the last thing I saw concerning that aforementioned phenomenon up in the skies was that freaky light diving into the lower atmosphere, approaching me at what seemed to be a really ridiculous velocity. But, nonetheless, I ignored the strange luminosity. I certainly had other things to worry about; like surviving to tell my eye-opener story, to bring the truth out to you. And so my tempo was definite like the rising sun. My running swift and unwavering like the vessel moving through space and time. My self-doubt gone like the snow in summertime. My heart effective and passionate like the cure of a ravaging disease. My will unbreakable like the toughest metal. My night vision clear and concentrated like the pouncing of a tiger on its prey. But then something happened. Something unbelievable. Something that got away from my psychology. Something that was clean and sharp, direct and elegant.

The sound! Oh my God! The sound was right on me, cooking me and my nerves, heating up my ears and shaking my brain. Literally. It was so intrusive and loud it corroded my thoughts and obstructed my thinking process. I stopped for a second and clogged my ears, soon my hands came out stained with the fresh blood bleeding from them. I then picked up speed again. Jumped the fencing into the barn’s front lot. The agents of doom were coming. I did not understand. Weren’t they hearing the same infernal-buzzing sound I was hearing?? Weren’t they bleeding from their ears as well?? Weren’t their brains close to melting point as mine was?? “Stop right there!” I heard in the heart of the kerfuffle. “Jesus Christ. Watch out!!” another one exclaimed. CRACK!— Then my busted ears caught the colossal demolition of the fencing behind me! And I ran faster than I ever had before. PLOMM!— Pieces of heavy wood rained down from above me. PLOMM! My hands automatically protected my head, an umbrella over it. What was happening?! Was this an attack?! Was this in my head?! Was this really happening?! But, alas, there wasn’t enough time for even a succinct-mental answer! CHINK!— Now metal structures the size of my torso were stabbing the earth around me! CHINK!— More! Here and there!

The pieces were oval, rectangular, triangular, twisted, straight, two-dimensional, three-dimensional! Jeez! They were dropping down like a fusillade from a bombing aircraft! And as this was taking place, I contortioned and dodged, I lunged and rolled, I jumped and meandered, slow and quick, and all to avoid the heavy projectiles from crushing me. At that final moment, there was no God. There was no hope. There was no explanation. “AARRGH!!!— My face!” All hell broke loose when my skin started boiling and stretching, and the heat became too intense, too radical. My face was on fire. My body was shaking uncontrollably. And I can even feel it now. Yes. Wretched past! Wretched existence! Oh, the memories! The memories that I cannot forget. The memories that haunt me. Who am I? Who am I not? Blast! The hearth of my brain and my mind! The inferno of my soul then and now! And how to explain? How…?? Furthermore, it is not hard at all for me to remember the value within that single moment. Within one single thought of mine! Within my soul! Like a stake through the heart and a sharp sweep of my nerves! Damn me! Damn me and what I am. What I have become. What they have made of me. But that intense heat. That radiation. That radiation was too much. So my legs gave out and I fell to the earth. I was born from the earth and I would take my last breath there. And then…

Then I saw it clearly in the very pupils of my eyes, as if time had stopped again, as if all my humanity screamed one last time within my frame. But all I could do was to clutch my boiling face. All I could do was to embrace the beginning of the end. All I could do was to embrace Darkness. And so let my physiology, my very soul, my humanity be changed. And so let the flaming Alien Aircraft become one with me, my executioner and tomb.

There was no way out!

The process had begun!

The madness had started!