A real classic: alien devours preschooler

pub. 7-3-23 - 248 words

The thing groped me, with both of its hands, at the waist, and it lifted me over its head. It smiled widely, and I could see the chunks of blood stuck in its teeth. I looked into its disc-like eyes, black and reflective. Its skin was a metallic gray, with a hint of green.

The teeth separated. It opened its mouth to devour me. I could do nothing but scream.

I came to in the classroom’s closet, packed with storybooks at every wall, from floor to ceiling. I timidly opened the door, and then I saw my parents, sitting at the small plastic table at the other end of the room, waiting with my lunch. I rushed over to them.

Wordlessly they handed me a box of Goldfish crackers. I began to chomp down, as it had once done to me. It was there. At the closet door that I had just traversed. But it was not looking at me; instead it was bent over slightly, looking ill.

Suddenly a sonic boom. It flew with a great velocity, towards the back wall. The air around it distorted with the shock wave. I could not see it—the room was in an L shape—but I heard it crash, bring down the drywall. It had vomited.

What a packed first year of preschool.

Something bizarre brewed inside of me. It was a sensation that, as a preschooler, was completely foreign. We know it now to be physical attraction. I miss it.