Fortnightly Writing Competition: Invading Aliens! (WINNER ANNOUNCED)

Started by kconan, Sun 07/04/2013 16:08:40

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kconan

Write a short story or poem about invading aliens.  The aliens don't have to be the "bad guys", or look hideous, or meet any other of the alien genre stereotypes.  So make them out to be however you want.  The only requirement is that the aliens in the story have invaded, are in the process of invading, or will invade a human town/city/settlement of some kind.

- 1st place: The Happy Golden Alien and if you have a Steam account...
XCOM Enemy Unknown!  I received an extra copy by pre-ordering another game, and this is a fun way to give it away.  If you are not on Steam and/or don't want it, XCOM goes to the 2nd place finisher.

- 2nd place: The Somewhat Pleased Silver Alien

- 3rd place: The Unhappy Decapitated Alien in a Jar


Forgot to mention the deadline...Writing contest ends April 27th!

Ponch

Hmmmm... Interesting... Plus, I appreciate how you've raised the stakes by having an actual prize involved. :cool:

This means, of course, that it will only escalate from here. How soon until the people are demanding cash prizes? Or a trip to New York to have lunch with Ron Dave Gilbert? Or an all expenses paid vacation in Canada to go polar bear riding with Ryan Timothy? My God, kconan! Did you even think this through? What have you done, sir?!?  :shocked:


Baron

I'm into this topic like a parasitic alien larva is into your lower intestine! :=  Stand-by for invasive awesomeness.

Stupot

I want to rewrite War of the Worlds in limerick form, but it might have to be the abridged version.

Ponch

Quote from: Stupot+ on Thu 11/04/2013 03:20:29
I want to rewrite War of the Worlds in limerick form, but it might have to be the abridged version.
There once was a Man from Cydonia,
Who came to Earth to ride a pony(a)...  :=

WHAM

The intruders
A story for the Fortnightly Writing Competition: Invading Aliens

Warning: this story may disturb or offend some readers, you have been warned.

Spoiler

A chill lingered in the early March evening, the warm light of day  having given way to the pale glow of the moon and the twinkling stars. Katie looked up at the pale pinpricks of light above and suppressed a shiver which crept up her spine. The cold sensation seemed to travel through her despite the warm jacket she wore. Somehow, she couldn't quite tell how, she felt tonight would be special.

The sound of Katie's boots seemed to echo in the night as she walked up the paved walkway, between the lush, well-goomer greenery which grew tall on both sides, partien occasionally to grant her glimpses of the garden. She walked past a pair of stone fountains, which stood still and silent, waiting for summer. Katie paused when she reached the terrace and the massive wooden door at the end of the walkway. The wooden structure was a lavish extension to an equally lavish two-storey mansion. Katie had been here before, but never at night and never like this.

The door of the mansion opened soundlessly and Katie's heart skipped a beat when she saw the warm smile on John's face as he greeted her.

“Heyy! Come on in, Katie, before you freeze  to death.” John was all smiles as Katie walked up to him. KAtie stretched out her arms and stepped up to the terrace to embrace John. She could sense the scent of cologne, which clung to the boy's sweater and short black hair. He had clearly shaved and showered just moments ago. Smart boy. John planted a gentle kiss on Katie's cheek, sending even more chills down her spine. The door slid to a close behind Katie's back.

“So, can I come in or not?” -Katie asked, wrapping her arms around her body, trying to look like she was freezing and shivering.

“Sure, sure, here, let me get your coat.”

John stepped back, allowing Katie to step away from the door, and reached out to remove Katie's coat, placing it on a wall-mounted hook, which resembled a lion's paw. Katie could almost feel John's eyes wandering as she turned her back to him and bent over to untie her boots. She was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a loose woolen top to keep her warm, and nothing underneath. John took Katie's hand and guided her into the sitting room.

---

The TV was on, as if John had been watching the news, though the sound was muted. A crackling fire flickered in the fireplace, casting orange light into the room, sending long shadows dancing on the wood-panelled walls. In the middle of the room, facing the fireplace, stood a large couch which could easily seat five or six people. Katie noticed a bottle of wine on the glass coffee table in the middle of the room, with two glasses waiting to be filled. She smiled at John, and allowed him to guide her to the couch. Katie sat down while John poured them wine.

“Did you buy that?” -Katie asked, eyeing the expensive-looking bottle as John placed it back down.

“I will have to be honest and say ‘no'. I did get my dad's permission, though, and he assured me it was the best we had.” John smiled, took the two glasses, handed one of them over to Katie and then sat next to her. Katie couldn't get enough of that smile, it was one of those things about John that just stood out. She could smell the fruity scent of the wine and carefully sipped the crimson liquid. She was no expert when it came to fine wines, but it did taste different than anything she had ever drank before.

“Dad said he had it imported from France. One of his work-buddies knew some people who make it.”

Katie looked around the room. She'd been there before, the main sitting room of John's parent's mansion, but always with the lights on or the curtains open, and always with more people around. Now, with just her and John, the place felt smaller, more intimate. A large portrait of a man in a military uniform glared down from the back wall.

“Is that him?” Katie asked, slightly creeped out by the way the fireplace cast a shadow over the portrait, causing the mustachioed face of the man to appear and disappear at random.

“Yeah.” John answered, pausing for a moment before continuing: “Oh! I just realized you two have never met!”

Katie nodded. She had visited, but in addition to John she had only met the two housekeepers, John's mother, and some of John's friends.

“He looks important...” -Katie said, taking another small sip of wine.

“Yeah. Military man all his life, deployed in Iraq twice and then in Greece back in 2015. He was injured there, but ‘rose to the occasion, leading his unit out of a reformer ambush'. Or so I was told. In any case they're saying he'll make the rank of General soon.” There was a hint of pride and wonder in John's voice. Katie could tell John was proud of his father and even though John hadn't served in the military, he did carry himself like a soldier: always straight, always tough, always ready for anything. Except now...

Katie placed the wine glass on the coffee table and leaned towards John. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around the young man's waist, pulling him in. John, about to finish his glass, was caught by surprise and almost spilled his drink.

“Will you be my soldier-boy?” -Katie asked, smiling playfully as John placed his glass on the table as well. His face was red, possibly because of the wine, but more likely because of something else. Katie raised her face and planted a gentle kiss on John's cheek. John was a year younger than she was, barely seventeen, and his lack of experience showed. Katie enjoyed, in an odd, twisted way, how she could crack John's shell like this, revealing the scared little boy underneath the hardened mask he put up in public.

John's hand moved, brushing against the denim cloth wrapped around Katie's knee.

“You didn't answer my question.” -She purred. John froze in place, searching for words. Katie could see his mind wandering, his eyes darting around like those of a caged animal searching for a way to escape. Then he paused, his eyes focused on something behind her. Katie glanced over her shoulder and realized the TV was still on, playing some ‘breaking news' story about a massive missing person's case in Washington. Katie turned back to John and frowned.

“Can't we turn that off?” -she asked. It wasn't really a question, but an order. Like a good little soldier, John snapped up the remote, turned off the TV, then dropped the remote somewhere between the couch cushions.

“Good boy...” Katie purred, pushing herself tight against John's body, the fabrics of their clothes pressing together, “...now where were we?” John's hand was resting on Katie's thigh. She realized it was shaking slightly as he hesitated. He must have thought she was angry at him for looking at the TV like that, poor boy.

Katie pressed her own hand on John's, guiding his palm and his fingers up to her waist, helping them slide under the soft, loose fabric of her shirt. John's fingers felt cool as they touched Katie's skin. She felt the excitement building, and could feel John was starting to get in with the program as well. Katie released her grip on John's hand, wrapping her left arm loosely around John's neck, while her right hand pressed against high thigh, just inches away from his waist. The boy's hand was slowly creeping up, each millimeter of movement sending a very distinct chill up Katie's spine. Then he reached the point of no return, his fingers caressing the soft skin of Katie's breast. He paused for a second, waiting to see how she would react. She smiled as John looked up into her eyes, and could see the realization dawning on the boy's face.

“I felt one layer of clothes was enough for tonight. Will you keep me warm?”

Katie lifted her head, her lips meeting John's halfway between the distance that had separated them. The boy's hand massaged her gently, a wholly exhilarating sensation, and Katie's own hands slowly began to move on their own, down John's shoulders and back, reaching for his belt. John moved his hand to the side, wrapping his arm around Katie's chest, his muscular arm lifting the hem of the loose shirt she wore. Katie giggled and retreated, breaking the kiss, then raised her arms above her head. John wasted no time and helped her out of her shirt. Katie could feel John's eyes feasting on the sight on offer.

The woolen shirt fell to the floor without a sound. Katie leaned in and kissed John. His lips felt warm and soft and tasted like wine. Suddenly, John's body jerked violently. Katie kissed him more deeply, trying to calm him down, but he grabbed at her hair, pulling on it painfully.

Katie opened her eyes, not having realized she had closed them, and looked on as something incomprehensible began to happen right before her eyes. John's eyes were bleeding, his nose was trickling with fresh blood. Something squirmed in Katie's mouth, something she had thought was her tongue, but wasn't. She tried to scream, she needed to scream, but instead she could only feel herself wrapping around John more tightly. The boy strained in Katie's grasp, but was no match for her superhuman strength. More blood trickled from his eyes and red bubbles frothed below his nose.

John thrashed about, throwing his weight to his side, causing the couple to fall off the couch and crash into the coffee table. The glass surface shattered, sending a shower of tiny fragments flying towards the fireplace. Spilled wine mixed with John's blood. Katie was crying, howling with fear at the horror unfolding in front of her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not stop herself. She tried to turn her head but her neck muscles were locked up, she tried to bite down on the thing that squirmed between her lips, but her jaw was locked. John's hand was reaching for a larger glass fragment, his fingers brushing against the sharp edge.

Suddenly there was a sickening crunch, and John went limp, his eyes rolling up in their sockets. Katie simply lay over his body, her tears flowing over his bloodstained face. She tried to push with her hands, wanted to get away, but she couldn't control her body. Instead she could only wait and feel the thing in her mouth squirming and stretching.

For several agonizing minutes she lay there, unable to close her eyes, unable to escape, before suddenly realizing she was free. Katie raised herself up and came to sit on the floor next to John. She could see something black and slimy squirming in John's mouth, disappearing with a sickening wet noise as it slid deeper into his skull. His eyes were moving underneath their lids and his breathing was shallow. Katie felt light-headed and weak. She realized she had to call for help. There was a phone near the door! She stood up and took a step, only to fall flat on her face as her knees gave way underneath her. Something was moving inside her head, pulsating behind her eyeballs. Then the blackness came, and she felt terribly, terribly cold.

---
[close]
Wrongthinker and anticitizen one. Utterly untrustworthy. Pending removal to memory hole.

kconan


Baron

The Straight Dope Invasion

   The president steeled himself.  Moments earlier, he had been debriefed by the Joints Chief of Staff.  A massive alien fleet consisting of some 30 spaceships had appeared in orbit over his country just an hour ago.  Now the admiral of that armada was requesting a video conference with him.  The Defence Secretary tapped the shoulder of an aide behind the camera and gave the president the thumbs up.  Moments later the massive screen in front of him flickered and there stood the most repulsive creature he had ever seen.  Its skin looked amphibian, although it oozed yellowish slime.  It's face reminded him of a llama, although it had mandibles and red glowing eyes.  And it had claw-tipped tentacles that it waved dismissively at the screen before speaking:
   â€œHey, it's Lars here.”
   The president was momentarily disarmed by the alien's casual tone and mid-western accent, but he swiftly recovered.  “Greetings Lars,” he said, “I'm the President of the United States of America.  My name is-”
   â€œYeah,” Lars cut him off.  “I don't wanna seem rude or anything, but we're going to try something a little different here.  Do you mind?”
   â€œI'm sorry?”
   â€œSee, we normally disguise ourselves to look like the peoples we contact through this complex, and painful -not to mention massively expensive â€" skin-grafting technique.  It's supposed to put you at ease so that we can conduct business without scaring the freaking stool right out of you.  Usually we make ourselves up to be long-lost space-vixens in need of succour and gentle caressing....”
   The president raised an eyebrow.
   â€œAnyway,” Lars continued, “the first contact is followed by this whole elaborate ritual, steeped in protocol and shuttle diplomacy.  We give gifts, show good-will, cure a couple high-profile types of inoperable diseases, yada, yada, yada, just to earn your trust.  Then through some sort of fringe resistance movement you uncover our true opprobrious intentions, work out our secret weakness and try to destroy us.  Much diminished in strength and numbers we limp off to try our luck at the next planet.
   â€œNow don't get ahead of me,” Lars moved his claw-tipped tentacle like a waving finger at the president.  “As I said, this time we're going to try something different.  No deception, no duplicity; not even the skimpy outfits that are all tease and no follow-through.  This time we're going to play it straight up and get right to the point.  Can you guys down there handle that?”
   The president nodded, words failing him.
   â€œOK, here's the deal-ee-o.  Our species is massively diminished and we need your species to help us reproduce.  No, it's nothing kinky,”  -again, with the waving claw - “We do all the actual mating between ourselves, thank you.  Well, except for Thak who seems to manage just fine on his own-”
   The president blinked as the transmission was momentarily disrupted.  A field of static lingered for a long, awkward moment before resolving again into Lars' gruesome visage, this time showing him in profile, apparently conversing with a fellow alien off screen.   â€œ-the dare had nothing to do with it!  We all agreed in the group sessions to try this honesty thing out.  Why then do you lock yourself in the defecation chamber for such long periods?!?”
   Some off-screen mumbles.
   â€œThat is not a denial!”
   More mumbles.
   â€œFine.  When you're captain you can air my dirty-laundry to the next -huh?”
   Yet more mumbles.
   â€œOh, hey, you're back.  Where were we?  Oh yeah, the,” -this time the tentacle waved around and around in a circle “-whole reproduction thing.  Right.  So we need a couple million volunteers to host our young until they can fend for themselves.  It's a relatively straightforward procedure.  We put you into this kinda quasi-conscious stasis while suspending you naked in a web of goo, and then our females ovulate as many fertilized eggs as possible right up your rectum."  Lars made a loop out of the end of his tentacle and peered through it towards the president.  "They are about so big, roughly the size of a monkey's skull.  It's kinda this evolutionary quirk our species has: the eggs have to be incubated for four to six weeks in the anal cavity of a mammalian creature.  No, our vast array of futuristic technology cannot adequately mimic the conditions of the fastness of your rectal chamber!  Anyway, after the incubation is complete the grubs hatch and slowly gnaw their way out.  Then you're free to go!  No apocalyptic war, no insidious infiltration of your society, no-”
   Again the mumbling off screen.
   â€œOh, yeah.  We'll also need a couple tons of lanolin ointment and a big bottle of aspirins.  But that's it!  Hey, if the ointment producers and the couple million egg-hosts just take one for the team, the rest of your planet can pretty much just pretend this whole first-contact thing never happened.  So whaddaya say?”
   The president drew himself up and calmly declined the offer.
   â€œWhat?  Just like that?!?  Was it the pitch?  Oh, I know what you're thinking:  we've been beat off by the last six planets and now we're desperate.  Damaged goods, you call us!  No one wants to host the parasitical offspring of a bunch of space-losers who've struck out more times than Gilbert Godfried-”
   The off-screen mumbling interrupts the tirade.
   â€œI said I'm not using that silly baseball analogy.  I mean, just look at the guy.  Listen to him, for heaven's sake!  Who could mate with that?!?  What?  What do you mean he has kids?!?  Man, this planet has lower standards than Sandra Bullock-”   
        Some more off-screen mumbling.
        "I stand by the analogy!"  Turning back to the president, Lars restrained his fury and spoke in a reasonable tone.  “Are you sure we can't work something out here?  I mean, maybe we can get the ointment and the aspirins at the next system up....?”
   The president shook his head defiantly.
   â€œFine!  Fine.  We have much to discuss in group session tonight.  End transmission!”
   The screen flickered to black and the generals announced that the fleet was leaving orbit.  There was a joyous eruption of applause from the assembled staff.  The president shook many hands, and made his way to the bar in the White House basement.  He needed a drink.  Maybe two....

   *      *      *      *      *      *      *

   â€œMr. President.”  The urgent shaking pulled him from his stupor.  “Mr. President!”
   He rubbed his eyes, then straightened his tie.  He must have passed out on the bar.  Around him his staff sprawled drunkenly over tables and on the floor.  Man, what a party!  The president tried to look grim and sober: “What is it, McConnel?”
   â€œMore aliens, sir!”
   The president grimaced.  Was that the booze creeping back up his throat, or just the revulsion he felt towards the slimy, amphibian monsters?
   The president took a quick drink of water, smoothed the wrinkles in his suit, and stood back in front of the camera.  The giant screen flickered to life.
   â€œGreetings, your majesty!” a saucy looking space-vixen said, curtseying.  As she did so the president couldn't help but notice that her skimpy outfit had a hard time containing her bountiful cleavage.  “We are a friendly race, but find ourselves in some distress at the moment.  We are in need of cuddles and strong hands to massage the tenseness out of our supple back muscles.  In exchange we offer the bounty of our technology and... our deepest gratitude!”
   The president smiled: this was more like it!  “Welcome to Earth,” he enthused.  The staff around him applauded once more.

Stupot

#9
A lim'rick I was going to do
About War of T'worlds, just for you.
But it's just too much work,
That only a Berk,
Would ever actually do.

So here is a different tale
One that contains cow ale
So sit back, relax,
And forget all the facts
Coz the story was made up as I went along, just like this limerick.

I hereby present:
TREV
    “This will only be a little prick.” The alien said to Lester. “There, all done.”
    “Oh, okay... You were right. I didn't feel a thing.” Lester sat up in the dentist-style chair and used his sleeve to soak up the sweat from his forehead and neck. “So... What next?”
    “You're free to go.”
    “What, just like that?"
    “Yes!” the alien exclaimed (hence the exclamation mark). “We gain nothing from hurting you very much.”
    “Okay... so...” Lester looked around searching for the exit.
    “Down there, on your right.  It's clearly marked.”
    Lester walked through partway down the corridor, looking back to see if he was being followed.  He wasn't.  On his right, beneath a sign marked ‘Exit' was a small, circular dais, just large enough for a man to stand on.
    Lester lifted his foot and began to step onto the platform.
    Usually, when the abductee stands on the platform, he vanishes from the spacecraft and wakes up in bed, or in the woods, with a sore anus and a half-remembered dream of ‘little green men' that no one of any importance will ever believe.
    “Just one thing,” he said, bringing his foot back to the cold metallic grating that made up the craft's floor.  He turned around and re-entered the ‘dentist' room, noticing for the first time the array of pointy tools and intrusive-looking machines behind the chair.
    Taken slightly aback, the alien said “Just step on that little platform, please Lester, there's a good boy.”
    “What exactly did you do to me?”
    “We don't explain ourselves, Lester.  I told you that in the schpiel.”
    “Yeah, but...”
    “You agreed not to ask questions.” the alien said, holding up the contract Lester had signed some forty minutes beforehand.
    “Well, the contract also say's you wouldn't force me to do anything, so I'm just gonna stand here and wait for some answers.” Lester said, putting his hands in his pockets.
    “Security!” The alien called.  A slightly butcher-looking grey stepped forward. He had apparently been there the whole time.  “Kev, remove this gentleman from the saucer.”
    “Can't sir.  It's in the contract. Can't force him to do anything.”
    "That means he can opt out of our experiments, not that he can hang around here all night."
    Kev grimaced. “Maybe you should get Bev to rewrite the contract, then.
    “Dammit!  This has never happened before” The alien looked genuinely lost as to what he should do next.  He turned to Lester.  “Sorry, sir, but I really need you to leave.  We have three more abductions scheduled for tonight and we're behind on out cow quota.  I'm sure you understand.”
    Lester stayed put, hands still deep in his pockets, fidgeting.  He said “Cows?”
    “Of course, Your Earth cows are a delicacy in my... wait... oi, no fair.  That was a question.”
    “My bad,” Lester grinned “but why does it matter if I'm going to forget about all this anyway?”
    “That's just the rules. Extra protection, maybe.”
Lester was getting restless.  He considered planting himself back in the dentist chair, but thought better of it.  He tried a different tactic.  “I could do with a drink.”
    “There's running water in your own house.”
    “Nah, something a little more... Martian.”
    The alien looked physically hurt.  “We're not from Mars, idiot.  We eradicated those losers millions of years ago..
    “Eradicated?”
    “Well, of course.”
    “Of course... then why have you not eradicated us?”
    “What do you think all this is for?” The alien said, his hand gesturing all the tools, gadgets and implements.
    "I dunoo... Cancer research?”
    The alien looked resigned, almost devastated.  He took of his lab coat, turned away from his unwanted guest and started walking towards another door, which opened automatically as he approached it.
    Oooh futuristic. thought Lester.
    “Dude, You have automatic doors in your local CheepMart.”
    “True, but they don't make quite the same whooshing sound.” Lester ran to catch up with the alien “and I preferred it when you called me ‘sir'.  ‘Dude' doesn't sound right coming out of your... where's your mouth?”
    “I don't have a mouth... SIR... because I know when to SHUT UP!”
    “Okay, geez, keep your h--. Where's your hair?”
    “Lester... sir... My race is about to invade your planet and eradicate your species.  The whereabouts of by hair are the least of your concerns.”
    Lester followed the alien out of the room and into what looked to lester like a futuristic bar.
    “Well, then Mr. Alien.  Buy me a drink and tell me some answers, then I will out of your h-- er... saucer.”
    The alien sighed a sigh deeper than any sigh he ever saw sighed. Turned to Lester.  “Well, if we're going to do this, you might as well call me Trev.”  Two Schmjergs please, Bev.
    “Coming right up.” said the barmaid. Nice totty as far as aliens go.  A little bit too skinny for Lester's tastes.
    “Oh, and Bev...” said Trev “I need you to rewrite the contract template.  We've got an... issue.” He turned to Lester again “She's our barmaid and secretary.  She's also our nurse and she's our best prostitute.”
    “Nice to see you guys have the same gender roles as us.” Said Lester taking one of the Schmjergs and sniffing the brown liquid.
    “Dude, that shit is universal... I mean, sir.”


    An hour passed.  Lester and Trev were on their 3rd Schmjerg, and had talked, mainly about women.  Trev had offered to buy Lester a night with Bev once the bar closed.  Lester was seriously considering it, that is until Trev mentioned that she has teeth down below that would rip his puny human penis to shreds.
    "I'll give it a miss.”
    “Well, it's up to you.” Trev looked slightly put-out that his kind offer had been rejected.
    Lester changed the subject. “So, what is in this... Schm...Schleu...drink?”
    Trev perked up. “Delicious isn't it?” He downed the rest of his and burped.  “It's brewed from the hide of your Earth cows.
    Lester pushed the drink aside in a display of disgust.  But couldn't resist bringing it back again for just one more mouthful.  “So... What's all this about invading Earth and eradicating humans.”
    “Not just Yumans.  Cat's too.”
    “How do you plan to achieve this?”
    “Simple.  We have injected you, along with thousands of other abductees, with thousands of tiny nanobots. In about 2 months from now, there will be a million people from cities, towns and tribes from all over the world all with these bots swimming around their bloodstream. The bots are harmless.  That is, until our General gives the order and sends an electronic signal instructing the nanobots to eat their hosts from the inside out and release a toxin into the air which will wipe out everyone within range.  Earth's biological population with be completely eradicated in less than 90 of your Earth seconds. But not before we've stolen all of your cows.”
    “Well... I'm glad it will be quick.” Lester said, licking the inside of his Schmjerg glass. “How come our governments haven't tried to stop you?”
    “This isn't The X-files.  The governments don't know anything about us.  We are completely hidden behind a shield made from an elementary particle that your primitive scientists are still trying to find.  I believe they call it ‘dark matter'.
    “So where are we?”
    “I can't tell you that. It's secret”
    Lester let the irony of the statement hang in the air until Trev caved in.
    “Okay, our exact coordinates are [CLASSIFIED].”
    “Wow, so close, yet so far.” Lester said, then “Well, I enjoyed our chat.  I should be going.  I don't supposed there's any way I can persuade you not to eradic--”
    “No.  sorry Lester.  Business is business.”
    “I understand...”
    “Well don't worry.  You won't know anything about it.”
    Lester stood up and reached a hand out for Trev to shake.  As he stood, his mobile phone fell to the floor.  He had been recording the whole conversation from his pocket.
    “Oh shit.”
    “What? No.”
    Lester grabbed the phone and ran to the door.
    “Bye Sweety,” said Bev.
    Lester ignored the barmaid as he ran out of the bar and into the dentist room.
    “KEV!  Stop him!” Shouted Trev.
    “I can't boss, if he doesn't want to stop I'm legally obliged not to force him to stop.”
    “Shit.  This is your fault, Bev.”
    Lester ran into the corridor just as Trev grabbed a raygun from the wall and pointed it at Lester “Nothing in the contract about not shooting humans with rayguns.”
    Kev Grimaced again “Well, actually.”
    “Oh fuck off Kev!”
    Lester reached the magic platform and dived onto it, clutching the phone for dear life.

    Lester woke up in bed.  Wow, that was a fucked up dream he thought... something to do with cows and... rabbits? I've forgotten it already.
He realised he was holding his phone and that it had been recording for well over an hour. “What the hell?” he said to himself.  He started to play it back.

    On Feb 16th 2013 in the sky above Russia's Ural Mountains, an explosion occurred in inner space sending an object spiraling to the Earth.  The government called it a ‘meteor', but Lester knew it was something to do with the recording he had taken to the FBI.  He hadn't been sure if the FBI was the right place to go, but it felt more X-Filey.

    The following year, Lester became a multimillionaire when McDonalds purchased his special cow-ale recipe.  The first McAle is to go on sale next year.

kconan

About a week left...If there aren't any more submissions between now and then, my contact in the pod people sleeper cell will release the face huggers.

Stupot

Shouldn't the deadline be today, since the contest was set a fortnight ago?

kconan

I use poetic license with the term "fortnight", as 1.5 fortnights doesn't have the same ring.  One week left...Hoping for an entry from Ponch   8-)

Atelier

I will post something tomorrow on deadline day, trust me!

Chef!

Mallack was fed up with his species' closed minded non interference policy.  It all sounded well enough but then they weren't the ones given the task of monitoring earth for the last three watches.  Okay so he had volunteered the last two times but that was only to cover his tracks.  Well, at least the first time he volunteered was to cover his tracks.
   
   Mallack just wasn't cut out for monitoring. He wasn't the kind of Azanki male to just sit around and watch things needlessly suffer, and oh how they suffered.  Earth was rife with wanton injustice and someone had to do something so he had broken a few rules. He implanted a few humans with chips in there brains.  He knew it was wrong, well at first he had thought so.  He wasn't crazy he had had second thoughts but he had only upgraded there intelligence a little at first and he had left them there free will. 
   
   He wasn't some sort of monster.  He had only hoped that by giving the right people a little bit of an edge he could steer humanity onto the right path and alleviate all the suffering.  Needless to say it didn't work. First he had upgraded politicians, but they had a tendency of getting shot.
   
   Then early on his second watch (Watches lasted long time) he decided he should have upgraded inventors, and they invented wondrous things. Things like cars that went a thousand miles per gallon.  Needless to say those things never saw the light of day.  His men were threatened or killed or their patents got bought and buried never to be seen again. 
   
   Mallack was so frustrated because he could see the good in humanity. He could see that most people under the right circumstances would live within their means.  Some were already making net-positive contributions to the planet. It just wasn't enough, it just wasn't happening fast enough.  There was a culture of entitlement and way too many people for the planet to satisfy. 
   
   Mallack wasn't the kind of Azanki male to give up so easily and he had a plan. The humans needed a fresh start he decided but he wasn't stupid.  He knew that the other Monitors were getting suspicious.  Supplies were going missing (more specifically brain chips) and these things led to hard questions.  Brain chips were for full fledged abductions for those  aristocrats who just needed an earth pet.  The chips weren't usually for humans (most went into monkeys or apes to make them better butlers) but regardless someone had noticed that the numbers didn't  add up and it didn't take long for Mallack to guess who that was.
   
   Massag was an intolerable little weasel. He was recruited for Mallacks second watch and had constantly tried to tag along.  None of the others had liked him which was good.  He was an awkward and ugly little Azanki, with dry skin and a trunk that constantly dripped. He had a high pitched voice and was always standing to close and breathing over your shoulder.  Mallack had humiliated him early on by writing gleckle on the back of his suit, it had taken him three earth days to notice.  From then on that was what the others called him and he hated it cause that's what hatch-lings were called.
   
   Massag knew right away that it was he who had written it and he had hated him ever since.  That suited Mallack just fine cause it had kept him from bothering him.  That was until there watch ended and he had decided to volunteer for another one.  Nobody volunteered to stay on earth, nobody but them.  It was a beta planet, Beta planets were the worst and earth was the worst of the worst.  You had no freedom at all. They were conscious beings but they were still too backward to warrant first contact.  Yet they had all sorts of nasty little machines and it was only getting worse.  Nowadays almost all of the stinky little humans had cameras.
   
   No, no-one wanted to stay on earth but Massag had and worse yet he had the ear of the new commander and they were asking questions.  The old commander hadn't cared even he had called Massag a gleckle and told him to get lost.  Then again the old commander hadn't been a straight shooter like this one.  No he was responsible for a few of those chips going missing himself and lined his pockets selling earth pets on the black market.
   
   Yes the old commander had been perfect for Mallacks purposes, it was too bad he hadn't finished the job.  That was then though and this is now,  and enough ground work had been laid during the good times for the plan to still work, even under the new management.  Yes he had done allot of leg work during the last watch and all the pieces were in place.  North Korea and Iran were full of his puppets now, along with the top executives of Scientology.  In fact all he was waiting for was the proper moment, which was it seemed was tonight.
   
   The commander's duties had called him away, Massag and the others had orders to hunt down earth pets.   It was his night off and he had the base to himself.  He couldn't ask for a better night to put his plans into motion.
   
   All he needed to do was send a few text messages.  He had been hanging onto this pre-paid phone for a while now and wondered for a moment if it was still safe.  He would have preferred to get a new one for this, but he hadn't had the opportunity.  For the last earth-month he had either been stuck on the base or stuck with the commander or worse yet Massag. 
   
   Those two were gone for the moment and Mallack was sick and tired of waiting.  It wasn't exactly as he had pictured it.  No this was even better, he had the bases command centre all to himself.  He set the big scene to show planet earth and sat down in the commanders chair with a cold beer and fresh popcorn.   He had already hacked the surveillance system and put it on a feed back loop.  He was ready.
   
   Mallack picked up his cellphone and carefully typed in “Purple banana hammer frog sauce.”  Mallack looked around and listened.  He had thought he had heard something.  Probably just one of the earth-pets waiting for transport acting up.
   
   Mallack steadied his nerves, had a drink and pressed send.  He smiled, this was going to be quite the show indeed.. full fledged nuclear war.. and he had the best seat possible!   He had come a long way since he had arrived on this planet.  He would have never used brain chips to control the humans when he first got here.. but when he finally realized nuclear war was the most painless way to achieve harmony.. it didn't seem so bad.
   
   Mallack started typing in his next text-
   
   -okay he definitely heard something.  Mallack took another sip of his beer and left it.  The jig was up.  He could feel it in his bones, but he was not going to give up without a fight.  He grabbed his laser pistol and hid behind a console.  “Square rainbow eleven hamster pickle.”  send.
   
   â€œCome on out Mallack.”  Massag's voice was even more annoying than usual when it carried an air of command.  Mallack glanced out and fired his laser.  The whole crew was back and everyone scrambled for cover.  They were all agents he realized.
   â€œNow now Mallack.  No need for that.”  Mallack hated Massag's condescending tone but he didn't let it distract him.  He only needed to send one more message.  “We've been onto you for quite some time.  Did you really think we were gonna let you start a nuclear war?”
   
   â€œYep, for a second I kinda did.”  Mallack was texting while he was talking.  “Donkey angle pepper zed giraffe.”  Mallack smiled and pushed send.  It was done it couldn't be stopped no matter what they did. “I really really thought I was going to do it.”
   
   Massag's laugh was shrill yet arrogant.  “Did you hear that commander?  And he called me gleckle! Heheehe!”  Again with that laugh.
   
   Mallack tried not to pay attention to it his focus was on the screen, waiting for the show to begin.. it shouldn't have taken this long.
   
   â€œWhat nothing to say?  Don't tell me.. oh dear.. he still thinks his plan is going to work!”
   
   This time the whole room erupted in laughter.  It was too much.  Mallack couldn't take there mockery, he had devoted his life to this! Sure he would have killed off most of them but the ones remaining would have built a better world a cleaner more just one.  He rushed out heading were Massag's shrill voice came from.
   
   He was waiting for him though and he all to calmly blasted him through the chest.  The little gleckle had gotten him.. he didn't seem so little now though.  This wasn't the awkward nube that he had first met. 
   
   Mallack's life didn't flash before his eyes, just the parts with Massag flashed by.  One by one  he realized how he had been played. 
   
   â€œDam you all”  Mallack whispered.  “In the end they would've been better off.”
   
   â€œThat's not for us to decide though.”   Massag looked down on him kindly and Mallack couldn't help but smile back as he died.
   

Ponch

Quote from: kconan on Sun 21/04/2013 16:24:31
One week left...Hoping for an entry from Ponch   8-)
Sadly, I have nothing to enter this time around. Cool theme, though.

Atelier

No time to write a story per se, so settled for a vignette!

Drake's Equation

Monday morning in the capital brought with it a close, threatening air. Grey clouds shot with black marshalled in the sky for much of the day, promising nothing less than a terrific storm. Below, the people of London went about their business as they always had done.

At a set of traffic lights waited an expensive car, driven by an equally ostentatious broker. The gold bracelets on his wrist clanked as he tapped the wheel restively. He glanced up into the rearview mirror. Looking back into his eyes was a jowled, middle-aged man, with grey hair that told lies about his age; but he was well-suited and dapper, with a striking tie which he straightened adeptly. He was on his way to close a deal that was almost too good to be true, and he couldn't afford to give them any more time in which to change their minds.

But then something appeared upon the skyline; the broker would never again see his clients. Materialising through the storm clouds was a boundless metal hull, pitted with cavernous recesses, bristling with thick antennae, and shrouded in fork lightning that flared across its surface. Slowly and silently, like a vast sky-submarine, it descended down upon London. As it advanced, it grazed the tops of the City skyscrapers like a lawnmower cutting through blades of grass. In its wake sprang a firestorm.

The broker scrambled from his car and gawped at the Thing in dribbling disbelief. All about him, people had abandoned their cars and were doing the same. Soon, from the flats either side of the road, people in dressing gowns emerged onto the pavement, or leant out of their windows, to see what had everybody so transfixed.

Suddenly, a woman screamed, igniting a stampede. Some left their cars behind in blind panic, and some even left wide the doors of their houses, joining the unidirectional exodus in their slippers. The broker himself was just about to leap back into his car when somebody rushed him from behind.

"Mine now!" they cried. The broker was gripped round the waist by iron arms, and thrown aside onto the tarmac. Before he could pull himself up, they made off with his car, leaving him floundering in the centre of the road, with the carnage unfolding all about him.

The carjacker switched on the radio, darting through the frenzied traffic with one hand on the wheel. No station was still broadcasting music - only faint and haunting news reports - so he scowled and turned it off. This was the end of the world he'd always dreamed of! He didn't care what that Thing was - only that it would bring a new life for him. The carjacker smiled at his change of fortune, exposing a set of rotten and gold teeth from behind his thin lips. His hair was cropped and his cadaverous face pitted with acne scars. He pulled a ringing mobile from his pocket and held it to his ear.

"… Yeah yeah, it's crazy down here man! That thing is messed up!" He bent low onto the steering wheel, and beheld the Thing through the windscreen. It had now fallen sharply over the city, and was moments away from crashing to a rest. Electricity continued to spark across its exterior, illuminating the city. "Where's you anyway? … Bun that man, I'm time from there! I'll meet you-"

Suddenly, the ground shuddered and split as a huge earthquake struck the city; the Thing had impacted on London. Around it, a tsunami of dust and burning rubble shot into and rained from the sky - every chunk like a meteorite. The Thing, now a static wall of unimaginable expanse, looked down upon London forebodingly, the top lost to the clouds above.

The carjacker lost control in the tremors and ploughed through the front of a coffee shop. A young waitress cowering beneath a table shrieked as it came to a deafening halt - the front bumper inches from her head. Sobbing, she took the white apron from her neck, and clambered over the broken glass and upturned furniture into the street outside.

The waitress sank to her knees as she saw the Thing on the skyline, where spires of the City had once stood. Now, from the black holes covering its surface, millions, millions, and millions of metallic drones teemed like termites from a mound. Each shot jets of fire from between two needle-like prongs, wrapping the city in flames like it was a tinderbox. Soon they masked the sky like migrating birds, with all the fury of a swarm after its hive has been kicked.

Somewhere up above in the drone soup, one of them spied the waitress on the pavement far below; then it dived like a seabird catching a fish.

kconan

The contestants are...Wham, Baron, Stupot+, Chef!, and Atelier.  Voting begins now!

Baron

Good entries all around.  Some real solid stuff this time: creative, yet captivating.  I really struggled with picking someone to vote for...

1) I liked how WHAM's steamy romance played on my earth-male's ability to become easily aroused
2) I liked how Stupot+'s study of the folly of codified rules appealed to my inner rebel (plus I liked the humour)
3) I liked how Chef! enhanced my understanding of why the world is so insane sometimes
4) I like Baron, because he's me
5) and I liked how Atelier's composition told a narrative larger than any one person by following sequential protagonists

So....  I think I'm going to have to vote for Atelier, not just because of his style and narrative approach, but because he probably hit the nail on the head when it comes to alien armageddon: if they're awesome enough to make it here in their fleet of mother-ships, they're probably awesome enough to wipe us out in an eye blink instead of dragging it out dramatically just long enough to have their carefully crafted plans foiled at the last minute.

WHAM

Wrongthinker and anticitizen one. Utterly untrustworthy. Pending removal to memory hole.

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