#Wattys2015 The Ghost of James Fitzpatrick

Chapter 8

Sarah

I've been told more than once by my parents that I have a wicked imagination, and I don't think they meant that as a compliment.

When I was about seven, I was certain a UFO was circling our house in the middle of the night.

Earlier in the week I had wandered away from Arden Library's circle time reading, and come across a VHS tape of a movie called "The Day the Earth Stood Still", and I was immediately captivated and subsequently obsessed with the cover of that movie. It was a picture of an alien who looked like he was made entirely of metal with only a glowing slit for an eye.

This alien was cradling a terrified, half-naked woman wearing a pink negligée, while in the background, the U.S. Military aimed all available heavy artillery and tanks at the creature, but you knew just by looking at this picture, it would all be to no avail; the alien would conquer humankind.

When I first heard the UFO that night, I ran to Josh's room, but saw he was gone, so I went to wake my parents. At one point my dad had explained to both his children, "do not wake your mother and me unless you're bleeding profusely (as if we knew what the word profusely meant, for all we knew it meant 'red') or your hair is actually on fire (and Josh and I both knew what that meant).

I figured since Josh had been abducted, it was worth waking them.

"Mama," I whispered (loudly), "there's a UFO at our house, I can hear it, I'm scared," and my mom tried to console me, "It's okay Sarah," and my dad sat up on his elbows and listened until he heard the sound of a loud, low-flying helicopter in the night sky, at which point he yelled , "It's a god damn helicopter, Sarah," but by now I had worked myself into quite a panic and not only was certain aliens were inside the house, I knew our lives were in imminent danger.

I told them Josh was gone, which made my mom scramble out of bed, only to find him snoozing under a pile of blankets on his bed. She didn't yell at me, but she shook her head and rolled her eyes in a way that only a disappointed mother can.

To this day, when I think I see something ridiculous, my family will undoubtedly refer back to the "Alien Incident", and then usually have a good laugh at my expense.

In the car: "Wow, did you just see that weird dog in the field?" I asked them.

"Most likely an alien dog," said dad, then, "ha ha ha," everyone is laughing but Sarah, or in the house: "Wow, I just saw the strangest lady at the grocery store." 

"Most likely an alien," said dad, then, "ha ha ha," everyone is laughing but Sarah.

I only mention all this because I heard me, Sarah Netherby, say those words to myself today.

A little, rusty metal gate stood guard at the end of our sidewalk, and when the school bus dropped us at the corner of Lilac and Riverside, Josh was usually through the gate first. He refused to do a number two at school, so his first order of business was to run inside and stink up the toilet in the hallway.

I stepped through the gate, closed it behind me, and glanced up at my bedroom window. I did this for no particular reason other than contemplating it as my imminent destination, and just like that, I saw someone in my window. I saw him clearly.

His hair was brown, his skin was fair and he was just watching me come through the gate. His arms were at his side, but the most remarkable comment I can make about his appearance, was he was in a red and white letter jacket, like the jocks at Arden High.

I took a second to focus and I saw him hesitantly raise his right arm in a slight and awkward wave toward me, almost like a question.

Then he was gone and I felt like Haley Joel Osment in "The Sixth Sense".