Summer. Nights where my cares slink behind the horizon with the sunset. The moist, evening breeze on my skin, on Maggie's. We sit on the damp, wooden porch, a glass of bourbon-barrel microbrew a piece.

"Have you heard anything interesting lately?" Maggie asks. I catch a glint of moonlight in her hair as she turns her head, the subtle pearl light playing in her tawny locks.

It's bothersome that she asks me about UFOs this way, but I don't allow her to know this. It's true, I haven't been mentioning them much lately, as I used to, and I'm sure she's noticed. Her seeming disinterest, I do plead, renders me cautious to say anything.

"No, not really. It's been quiet for a while," I say.

The truth is I have seen many interesting things as of late. However, what sense is there in talking about it with her? With anyone? She's heard about the significant, historical events, the committees, the projects, the hearings, the whistle-blowers.

"Well," I say, "I've been reading about this guy from Switzerland or Austria who builds small-scale UFOs, films them to distort that they are scale, and passes them as real."

"People believe him?"

"Been believing for decades," I say. "He talks about meeting Venusians or some shtuff and riding in their craft. Dozens and dozens of photos, maybe hundreds. And video."

"Hmm." She sips from the brown bottle, then sets it onto the patio.

"Yeah. He has this handler-guy who does all his publicity because he lives pretty remote, like a hermit. Really weird situation."

Maggie laughs, giving pause to the crickets nearby. "I'd say."

I take a draught from my beer.

The sky is exceptionally clear tonight. Barely any sparkle to the stars. Diamonds on a satin sheet. Who said that? Someone had to have said that already. I read somewhere once about some atmospheric condition that causes the stars to seem as if they were twinkling. Can't remember what that's called. Whatever it is, there must not be much of it tonight.

Silence. Save for the occasional passing car. More noise in those gas station lights across the street.

What would the sky here would look like without those sickly, orange lights. So loud. So invasive.

"So, what do they say about people getting abducted? Maggie asks.

I sigh.

What have I come across, is the question she's asking as it relates to alien abductions. Everyone's heard of them. Just not everyone's as weird as I am where they go and read about them.

What have I read and what did I think about it? Think think think...

"I can't wrap my head around it," I say. "It's a tough thing to believe in if it hasn't affected you personally. I mean, some people have some good stories, but I think the only verification they've had has come through hypnotherapy."

"Oh," she nods, "and it's not reliable?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

I add, "probably not," for good a bit of cushion.

This is damn good beer. Whoever would've thought a little micro-brew in Wisconsin could ever do something like this? Maggie and I are going to have to take up trip up there this summer and tour the brewery. Mmm-mmm. How did they stay off my radar----what the hell is that?!

There is something in the sky to the south. Maggie doesn't see it yet. I catch it in a glance only because it is brighter than the surrounding stars.

Southern horizon, light rising. Orange-y, a bit of yellow. No other discernible flashing lights. Strange. There's an airport over there somewhere. Probably a plane. But it's really low on the horizon. And it's...it's not moving.

"There was this one interesting case from back in the 70s or 80s, I think. Some guy got abducted for five days or something."

"Really?" Maggie perks at this. "Five days?" I gaze past her, to the southern horizon. The light hangs.

Has it moved? It has. Only a little. But it has risen. Strike that. It is rising.

"Dude was gone for five days," I say, a bit anxiously.

"Weird." Her lips are pursed, a doubtful expression on her face.

"Guy had only strange stuff to say about it," I continue. "Cops had no explanation, family, Feds. No one. Passed lie-detectors, went through hypnosis. Really strange reading. You'll have to check it out."

Her brown eyes light up even in the depth of night. She smiles.

"Maybe I will."

What else. What other cases?

"Oh!" I begin, "there was another instance where a couple was abducted from-----what the hell is that?"

Maggie casually turns to the south and sees the orange light rising. It is most definitely rising, and most astonishingly, it is growing in size and luminosity. My ears ache for a sound amongst the crickets. The hiss of an engine. The whir of a blade. Yet, there is nothing.

"What is that?!" Maggie asks, more excited now.

Panic. Not in her voice. Rising, like the orange light, straight up my spine.

"I don't know."

The light has stopped rising. It has leveled off now. Still, it grows more brilliant, now many, many times the brightness of the loudest star. Maggie can't take her eyes off of it either. Entranced, our minds wander to the edge of the unknown, and I come to a startling reality.

It grows brighter because it draws near.

CONTINUED...

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1...

Oh no. Oh God. Oh God. Not now. I'm not ready. This can't happen right now. I'm not ready to see an alien. I don't want to be abducted. Oh God that friggin' light. It's going to be on top of us in twenty seconds. Or less. Oh God. Oh no. This can't be happening. I'm not ready.

A feeling familiar---only because it happened once before when I was seventeen---rules my entire body, like a traitor king. The outside edges of my vision begin to close in. My tongue, sandpaper. My legs weaken, and in my stomach sits a moldy loaf of warm bread. The head swells, the body rocks.

When I was seventeen, I thought it a good idea to further express my individuality by getting my eyebrow pierced. It was the distinct popping sound I heard as the piercer punctured the skin over my eyebrow with a steel needle. It wasn't the pain. It was the sound, and the thought of what that sound meant which caused me to forget to breathe.

Now, tonight, I'm going to pass out, for only the second time in my life, because I'm about to get abducted by extra-terrestrials. Granted, a more fitting reaction in this scenario.

Maggie watches the light with fortitude. She is stalwart, a warrior-princess.

I slowly, meekly, as casually and naturally and coolly as I can, lower my back and head onto the wooden porch, closing my eyes only to watch white lights dance around inside my head: a consequence of the temporary loss of oxygen.

Maggie turns around, sees me limp on the cool wood. She places her hand on my leg.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah." She turns back to observe the light, now almost overhead.

Engine noise.

Wearily, I open my eyes to see the light moving swiftly now, directly on top of us. The light is now all but gone, replaced by the running lights of a single-engine plane. The buzzing engine blankets the sound of chirping crickets. With a groan, I sit up.

Maggie turns to me.

"What happened there?"

"I almost passed out."

I'm such a dope.

"You thought it was a UFO," Maggie says, and laughs a bit.

I nod.

"I did, too," she admits. She puts an arm around me and grabs her beer.

We lock eyes. I break gaze, and laugh.

"Should we go inside?" Maggie asks.

I nod and close my eyes. "Yes."

I rise from the porch, still a bit shaky on my feet, and look towards the southern sky. My farewell to the open night, a sigh, catches Maggie attention.

"You all right?"

"Yeah." I pause. A more honest answer would've been 'kind of'. "I guess I'm not ready to see one yet."

Someday, maybe.

-----
Note to Mods(& readers): This exposition is based off an experience I had last summer. While the original goal was for this piece to be purely creative non-fiction, I ended up taking liberties with the dialogue and thoughts--mostly because of the inefficiency of memory.

If the above admission causes this story to move too close to fiction, feel free to move it to another forum.

[edit on 17-3-2010 by Elepheagle]

[edit on 17-3-2010 by Elepheagle]