Stranger Things

Life on Mars

Joseph sat in his rocking chair watching the sun set. Over the fields beyond the orchard the sky ripened like a fruit before him, turning from brilliant vermilion to blush orange and then slowly draining off into the gentle simmering ochre that signified the coming of the night. 

He tapped his pipe on the arm of his seat and heaved himself up. 'I'm going down to check the hives before it gets too dark.' 

Martha looked up from her book and nodded her head. A lock of grey hair had broken free from its bun, she lifted it back with her thin fingers and clipped it back into place. 'I'll see you in a few minutes then. Can you check the tap by the glasshouse, I think it's leaking?' 

'Sure.' Joseph walked down the wooden steps from the porch and strode across the neatly trimmed lawn. He cut through the sloping ground of the orchard checking the fruit as he went, his fingers probing for any signs of rot, his eyes searching for any early indication of disease in the clusters of buds of apples and pears hanging from the branches of the trees. 

Satisfied the tap by the greenhouse was not leaking he made his way over to the line of the hives and stood listening to the deep thrumming of the bees before he pottered on to the vegetable patch. For a few moments he worked a hoe round the edge of a long line of marrows then walked around the plot checking the water pumps and pulling up loose clumps of earth between the furrows to allow the water to ease its way back through the shallow trenches. 

As the sky deepened into wash of velvet brushed blue he walked through fields of long lines of corn plants, pulled the rusted weather cover off the shield box and turned up the light levels to help the ripening fruit when the sun rose the following morning. 

Whistling an old Earth tune to himself, he made his way up to the edge of the field and followed the perimeter of the farm back toward the house. Climbing back up the short slope by the orchard he slowed. On the other side of the shield he could make out a dark shadow. Perplexed, Joseph followed the line of trees, stopping twenty feet away from shield. In the encroaching darkness a tall figure stood looking back at him.  

'Brent?' He muttered to himself and hurried over to the edge of the shimmering wall.  

Closer now he could see it was not Brent. The Martian, if that what he was, stood still perfectly still, so close his head almost touched the flickering surface of the shield.  

Slowly Joseph crouched down, picked up a rock and threw it at the shield. With a sharp crackle of blue electricity it bounced back at him. Satisfied he turned and hurried back to the house. 

'What do you think he wants?' Martha stood by the shield and studied the strange face looking down at her.  

Joseph didn't know. The face was flat and nose less, its motionless glassy black eyes reminded him of the cows he remembered on his parent's farm back on Earth when he was young, deep and full of pathos. At their centre lay irises of twisted thin yellow ribbons around which eyelids shut and opened like elevator doors 

'Do you think he knows he's got no clothes on, he's not decent?' Martha folded her arms and looked the Martian up and down, the tall muscular torso, the smooth cherry skin and long limp arms hanging loosely by his side.

'Perhaps he's lost?' Joseph offered. 

'That still no excuse Joseph.' 

'I don't think he can understand us.' Joseph waved his hand in front of the impassive eyes. 'Hello stranger. Why are you here?' 

The stranger remained fixed, unhearing and unseeing as if he were staring into a mirror. 

'Come on Martha, it's almost dark, let's go back. I'm sure he'll be gone by tomorrow.' Joseph took Martha by the arm and walked her back up the path. At the ridge he looked back. The Martian was still there.