Abducted Love: Aliens in Our Oceans

Tonight

Settling further into my mattress, the heaviness of sleep tries to hold me, but somewhere in my mind there is a thought that begs to surface.

"I'm late for school!" I realize, and my body shoots up; or, at least, it attempts to.

I'm held down by an impossible weight.

Sleep clouds my vision; yet, somehow, laid across my middle is— a man.

"Wha-?" I clamor out, incoherently, attempting to pull myself from beneath him.

My movement startles the man, and he jumps up, sending his chair crashing onto its side.

Even in my weakened state, I manage to clamber from the bed.

"Woah, hey— it's me." He waves his hands as if to dismiss my fears.

It feels like forever before my brain can wrap around what's happening; and when I finally take in his face, I relax against the glass wall behind me, sagging down to the ground.

My heart thunders in my chest, and my eyes go wide, taking in what my mind can't understand.

"Rebi, how are you here? You're supposed to be in Australia..."

He nods and begins to round the bed where I huddle between it and the glass partition.

"Wait!" My voice sounds frantic, hysterical even. My hands go out, as if the simple gesture alone would do any good. Surprisingly, he does stop.

Something, no—everything seems off or—wrong.

Bits and pieces of a memory creep in like a dream; and I take a deep breath, remembering how hard it has been to breathe.

Shaking my head back and forth, my eyes slowly scour every inch of the chamber, as if denying the sight before me.

"Darley, let me explain. It's all going to..."

His words fade away as the sight before me dulls all of my other senses.

The room itself appears to be made of smooth opaque crystal; yet, somehow, the walls emit an iridescent, golden glow.

The bed beside me could almost appear normal apart from the shell-like material of its base or the unfamiliar linens that cascade into a silky pile on the floor.

A translucent screen with hieroglyphic-styled characters is situated near the bed, making recurrent sounds that alert the tall, white-haired woman who rushes through the doorway.

When her colorless eyes meet mine, she stops.

"Craya," her head lowers for a moment before her gaze lands on Rebi who is still in his earlier spot.

Something about the moment reminds me of the time a red bird flew into my Nana's house one Christmas Eve.

The pitiful creature flit from wall to wall knocking off picture frames and searching for a safe place to land. It somehow managed to tangle itself in the garland on the tree. I'll never forget the wild look in its eyes as my cousin caught it in his hat. We did our best to set it free without injuring the tiny flyer in the process.

But now, unfortunately, I find myself "the bird" in the scenario —and that —does nothing to comfort me.

A small pinch in my upper arm alerts me to another presence.

My head spins to a woman standing behind me, but before I can register what has happened, a serene wave dulls my senses.

"Zorah," Cinza admonishes, "was that necessary?"