The Misfortune of Fausto Bonaventure

Prologue: Fausto and the Aliens

Prologue: Fausto and the Aliens

  My school is filled with aliens. It's obvious. They're there, hidden somewhere in the mass of the student body. I can sense them, they're there, and they're watching me. Laughing. Analyzing. Becoming the puppeteers of my stupidly ironic, cliché life.

Their green skin glows in the unnatural white fluorescent lights of the auditorium, and only I can see the sheen of lime-green skin and wide, empty eyes. Of course that's the Alien Stereotype, probably offensive to aliens, but of course there'd be different races of aliens. This "alien stereotype" can be a completely real and valid alien race, that a human saw and created the Ideal Alien Look. And I can see that Ideal Alien Look in a lot of the so-called "students" milling about. I'm on to them. And they can tell.

They glare at me with knowing eyes, wide like the abyss they are sucking me into, deeper and deeper--like a trance. I can't escape, no, and they inch closer and closer readying their unyielding strings to tie around my limbs and control me. There are aliens up on the stage too, teachers gazing over at their inside operators and the students they wish to corrupt, to change, to become, to take over.

Their eyes land on me, momentarily, and I feel a shiver race up my spine because I know they paused longer than they did for any of the other students surrounding me. They know everything, I bet. They blink slowly, turning, the glimpse of their true skin blinking through my gaze as if it were just a hallucination. I know better than that, though, and as I glance over at my best friend Tommy, I know he can see it too.

"Hey," I whisper, scooting as close as I can in the old and uncomfortable chairs, "did you see that?"

Tommy glances over at me, warily, before replying in a hastier whisper, "See what?" But he must know, mustn't he?

"Why the aliens, of course," I say, "can't you see the flash of their eerily green skin?"

Tommy looks at me as if I lost my mind. Maybe I have, really, if I thought that Tommy would see it too. I'm not the only one with thoughts stuck too close to their skin, like sweat on a too-hot day in June. "Just kidding." I say, breaking into a sweat myself, before shifting in my chair so that our arms were touching.

Just for comfort from the creepiness of the alien teachers and the undercover alien students. "Uh, sure you are," Tommy says, "you big weirdo."

You lie, I think, you big liar. I hope he does see them too. I scoot even closer, somehow, awkwardly shoving myself into his side.

He doesn't move away. I smile, feeling the alien stares burning into my skin. I ignore them, for once.

They know, comes a whisper, they know.

"Tommy, dear," comes a high, shrill voice, "what're you doing, sitting all the way over there?" The voice tumbles up to where we are sitting, in one of the back few rows, in a cold way that burns. In that alien way I know too much about, as the sound cuts over my skin like glass.

I move away from Tommy, putting enough space to fit a (metaphorical) elephant between us. The alien sparks her glare at me, sharpening it so sharp I feel it slice at my throat. She knows, she can't know, does she? Aliens know, they all do, they can't, please, but they do.

"I always sit here." Comes Tommy's reply, as he glances over at me with a face filled with bemusement as to why we are now inches apart rather than squished together.

"Well," comes the alien, voice dripping down the walls like poisonous honey, "you should be sitting by me. I am your girlfriend now, you know."

The blood in my veins freeze. Only slightly, though, because it's been old news since they got together a week ago. My throat catches, but I swallow down the unluckiness about to fall from my mouth. Not today, satan.

"I spend most of my time with you, away from school and in school too," Tommy says, hesitant, "I can't just leave my best mate hanging."

Best mate. Is that all I am? Just a best mate? Not even "the love my life", or at least "one of the most important people in my life"? At all?

"That's not true!" She purrs, watching as Tommy's wariness increases, "you're always spending time with your... Best mate over there. I miss you!"

And that does it. The alien has Tommy in her grasps, as he whispers a small "sorry!" to me before grabbing his backpack and falling into the claws of her Alienness and away from me.

It's just typical, I think, to be the most unlucky being the guy with the luckiest name.

A/n
Hello! I'm trying to write a story story this time and, without an outline currently (like the idiot I am), so here is the prologue! I was going to make this the first chapter, but I'm too lazy to make it any longer. I guess. I'm supposed to be asleep right now, oops. Notice this isn't edited, or proofread, so please point out mistakes and such. I have a habit of switching the tenses a lot.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this short little thing!