I was down by the lake on a mid-summer’s evening when it all began. It had been the kind of day where heat waves conjure visions that evaporate as you get close. A day where cool water and a nice shady spot was the only desire.
I heard it before I saw it, but my aching head first questioned, then dismissed the strange whirling from far behind. (The heat can sometimes play tricks on the imagination.) I finished my drink, and moved off to take a nap. (Mind you, I thought, there has been talk of strange sightings in the area… again dismissed, as getting out of the sun was my prominent concern.)
Before I knew it, it was upon me. It appeared in the sky out of nowhere, I stood frozen in fear as it hovered ominously above the ground. It was grayish, oblong, and it circled around me faster than I could see. Some magical force emanating from it blew the grasses and trees, as if in a hurricane. A bright light scanned the area and then focused in on me, blinding me to the spot.
Just as I was pulling myself together, and was about to flee, I saw a flash from the vessel and, like a lightening bolt, I was struck. Momentarily stunned, I stumbled, but my adrenalin pushed me on, away from this… thing!
I remember running, or at least moving, but rapidly I felt as if reality was slipping away from me. I could barely feel my legs, or anything else for that matter. All of my senses were tuned into my panting breath, and the extreme panic that engulfed me.
The grass became a blur, my head was swirling, and with the feeling I just could not go on any longer, I succumbed to the sudden fatigue and nausea. I fell in the long grass and just let go.
A while later (I have no idea how long), I slowly awoke. Everything was fuzzy, but I could see that I was surrounded by these strange beings. There were at least four of them; they had short, pale faces, with little or no hair. They were making murmuring sounds — alien, creepy. I could see them talking amongst themselves and gesturing to me. Everything inside me said to get up and run, but I could not move a muscle. It was as if I were bound. I was aware, but powerless.
Suddenly one was at my head. I could hear his chittering, I got the feeling that he was trying to re-assure me, telling me everything was alright, they won’t hurt me. The message was clear, as if sent right into my head. But everything was not alright. Another, the small one, was coming at me with a huge needle with a tube at the end!
“No, Don’t!” I screamed, “That will hurt!” But my pleas just echoed in my head — nothing came out. I could not even vocalize and he was getting closer!
My attempts to struggle were futile, I watched them replace one tube after another, as they siphoned the vital fluids from my body. The fourth one, with the large round eyes (that reflected the bright light as he moved), put his face close to mine, and from a strange container held in his front appendages, poured a liquid into my eyes. Everything went fuzzy again, and I could see nothing.
I felt them poking and prodding for some time more. Fear subsided to acceptance. I truly thought I was going to die. A stab of pain woke me from my complacency. I could feel a throbbing in my ear. (I hear they do that so they can come and get you again.) The big one at my head chattered away in comforting tones, and patted my head. I sensed them retreat back into the tall grass, leaving me there.
After a minute or two I heard the whirling of the space craft, the grass blowing violently as it shot off through the sky as quickly as it had come. Slowly, I got to my feet, still not sure they were really gone, or that my legs would hold me. I was a little disoriented but I made it home.
I know what you are thinking, but I assure you every word is true. When I got back to the den, most of the pack thought I had been out hunting too long or maybe got into some bad water. Yet, they could not dismiss the strange marking on my ear. It wasn’t until other lions in the area reported the same phenomenon, and when the head of our pride was captured that this terrifying threat was taken seriously.
So, all cats beware, the threat of U.F.O. abductions are very real!
I wrote this in response to the U.F.O. abduction experiences we have all heard about. Just as we do not know their reasoning and intent with the (apparent) research done on us, neither do the animals of our world.
They only know the terror of what we subject them to. Nor do they realize that in some cases it may mean the very survival of their species.
I wanted to get across that we, as ‘humans’ do no less to almost every creature on earth. (Sometimes just for our thirst for knowledge, or scientific advancement.) As well, we do not contemplate the impact it may have on their lives. The species I portrayed here is the most humane of what we do. I could not bring myself to write the graphic horrors of what would happen if I were to write from the point of view of say a rat, rabbit, or monkey.
Most of Lyn’s writings are of her personal experiences, and the lessons they had for her. She has been writing for many years, mostly for herself, family and friends. Recently she has bowed to pressure to share some of these with others.