Photo by Mari Madriz on Unsplash

Jake’s Story

An Experiment Come to Life

Hello All,

In February I had an idea to write a story one sentence at a time. You can check that out here.

Thank you to the contributing co-authors: Boazo, Brian Monahan, Gonzalo Paoli, Jean Shankles • Content Creator • Newsletters, and Vince Mao.

Here’s the end result.

The wind whistled through the open window. He looked up…his sharp sense of hearing parsing through the notes between the pattering of raindrops in the dead of the night… He slowed his breathing as he scanned the treeline.

He knew they were back when his Rottweiler, Banjo, released a low growl, signaling their presence. He gestured with his hand and Banjo began to stalk silently out of the house. As he waited for Banjo, seconds turned to minutes, then minutes into hours… But Banjo did not return.

That’s not like him he thought as he ventured out of the house into the pouring rain. The paw prints in the mud ran straight into the forest. The daily orbs only Jake can see harass Banjo’s psyche more than the mosquitoes in the Louisiana bayou where they live.

There was a low rhythmic hum drowning out the rain. As it grew louder, he saw lights emerging in the southwestern sky and worried where Banjo sought refuge this time.

Suddenly he was bathed in a bright light, impairing his vision. With a sinking feeling, he wondered if Banjo had been taken again, and what it would take to get him back this time. Before he could finish his thought the lights disappeared, and he was plunged into a pitch black night.

Jake’s skepticism turned to certainty that he was on the cusp of uncovering the truth about extraterrestrial activity hidden in plain sight. Banjo emerged from the woods whimpering with a slight limp…a pack of glowing eyes remained in the forest. Those eyes bore into him…chilling him to the bone.

As he ran to help Banjo into the cabin, Jake was glad Molly would be home soon from her shift at the hospital. He crossed the threshold of the house and slammed the door shut. Sliding the deadbolt home with a satisfying click. Satisfied Banjo was okay, he fell into his Lazyboy and rolled another joint while waiting for Molly. She should be home any minute now.

The orbs had never appeared when Molly was around, and he wrestled with whether he should tell her. The door opened and he was jolted from his thought.

“Bonsoir, mon cher! How was your day,” her voice carrying the familiar lilt of the Cajun bayou.

A smile crest his lips as he looked up at her standing in the doorway. Molly possessed an undeniable allure that drew others to her like moths to a flame. Without a doubt he was the moth and she was the flame.

She was a welcome distraction to the evening’s unsettling events, and he hoped she wouldn’t be upset about Banjo’s minor scratches. He got up from his chair and welcomed her home. Relaxed by the tranquility tokes, he decided to fix them both a snack and not mention the paranormal visit.

“Hey honey. It’s good to see you.” He said with a kiss.

After they embraced he walked in the kitchen to begin assembling their snack.

Weeks passed without any sightings as the unusually wet spring gave way to the muggy, mosquito infested Louisiana summer. Jake, Molly, and Banjo returned to their normal rhythm of life.

That sweet, gentle rhythm was abruptly interrupted on a Sunday morning when a government official arrived on their doorstep asking questions. The official was weariness and discontent incarnated, but that didn’t keep Jake wondering why Banjo was not even remotely interested in the stranger.

At that moment, Banjo sniffed curiously in their visitor’s direction as if he had read Jake’s mind. A low snarl started to reverberate in his throat as his hackles raised. But his obedience training kicked in, and he retreated to his favorite spot with his chew toy, no longer interested in the stranger holding even stranger metal objects.

“Nice mutt you’ve got there,” the official said.

“Thanks. Who are you and why are you here?,” Jake asked the official.

“A routine check,” the official said and smirked, waving a strange metal object in his hand.

“A routine check of what?”, Jake asked irritated. He’d seen MIB before and didn’t like where this was going.

“Listen buddy, just let me do my job and nobody gets hurt”.

“You haven’t explained what your job is, and I don’t think I’m the one who has to worry about getting hurt.”

In the blink of an eye there was a change, the weariness and discontent was gone. Replaced with a cold seething rage, just visible underneath the surface. The official glanced at the strange object in his hand and something about it made the hair on Jake’s neck stand up. Instinctively, Jake realized this unidentifiable alloy was another piece of his paranormal puzzle. It was a puzzle without a box.

Molly’s calm voice interrupted their tense exchange, bringing Jake back to reality.

“Put that away.”

They broke their stalemate and turned to look at her. “What do you mean by ‘that’?”, the officer asked. His gaze was fixed on her waiting for her response. As a third generation Cajun French, Molly possessed an intuitive connection to the natural world that bordered on the supernatural; she was growing uneasy about what might transpire.

“I mean that thing that is in your hand,” said Molly.

A snide look crossed his face. “You mean this?”, he said as he waved it in front of her face.

Unflappable, she glared back, unwilling to allow both men to see her dark side.

“OK then,” the official said.

He slid the metal object into his pocket, and raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. Growing up in the swampy bayou, Molly heard the stories of distant worlds and ancient civilizations, whispers of forgotten lore that spoke of the mysteries beyond the stars.

Without taking his eyes off Molly, the official made a bizarre hand gesture and shouted, “We can go now!”

“What was that all about?” said Jake. Bumfuzzled by the odd exchange that just took place.

There was a banging sound from behind the house, followed by many rapid footsteps. Jake grabbed his Remington 870 shotgun and headed out the backdoor, Banjo on his heels. He pumped the shotgun expecting trouble. The THWACK THWACK reverberated clearly through the air.

They watched in awe as their tranquil world was suddenly disrupted by unexpected visitors. Jack’s mouth went slack jaw as the shotgun slipped from his hands. Before he had time to react to what he saw near the tree line, a sudden rumble shook the earth, followed by a blinding flash of light illuminating the night sky.

Everything went black.

First there was a loud hum, then an ancient pulse began to beat from weird metal objects activated one by one by the strangers. Banjo… screamed. It was a blood curdling cry that Jake had never heard before. Time stood still. It was a surreal moment as his mind processed the scene before him and the source of Banjo’s scream.

Terrified, Molly and Jake watched in awe as strange vessels descended from above, hovering ominously over the bayou. A chasm in reality suddenly tore open as the three vessels landed, forcing them into a parallel universe they had never seen before.

It was filled with a wide open expanse shimmering with colors they’ve never seen before. Behind the strange beauty, the alien colors, distorted shapes, and the ever-beating ancient pulse, there were occasional glimpses of the familiar world. Somewhere out there, Banjo was still screaming.Jake had to find him. Banjo was more than a pet. He was family.

Mesmerized, Jake and Molly watched as iridescent orbs emerged into the night sky. Banjo stopped screaming. Jake still needed to find Banjo, but he was entranced by the vision before him. As Molly gazed in awe, she felt a presence — a consciousness that reached her from the depths of the chasm. At that moment, she knew without a doubt that she was in the presence of beings not of this world.

With a mixture of fear and fascination, she glanced at Jake, wondering if he was aware of their presence.

The pulse changed. Molly saw that the strange officials were standing around them like statues, holding the strange objects above their heads. Jake and Molly couldn’t hear the words, but they could feel the communication.

“We found it! It’s under the house!”

Something from the vessels replied. The response came from all the vessels in one voiceless voice. Something seemed pleased.

The red orbs, now seen at close range, contained shimmering silhouettes with luminous eyes staring at them. To the untrained eye, the orbs remained nothing more than mysterious lights floating above the Bayou.

“It’s just the swamp passing gas,” the locals said.

But Cajun folklore claimed those with the “gift” could perceive the true nature of the orbs and the creatures that dwelled within them.

To be continued….