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Short Story: The Truth Is Over There
🕑 Added 2021-01-02 16:49:54 +0000 UTCLast week, we did a community event with our $4 Patrons that resulted in a short story. It is presented now for all! Thanks to everybody that participated!
The Truth Is Over There
A reporter makes his way to a small rural town. There have been reports of strange lights in the sky and missing people. While interviewing a farmer, the reporter finds out that gooey female alien creatures appeared in town. Sure some people go missing and there are more of the aliens every week, but they pay their rent on time, support the local economy, and are easy on the eyes. The reporter sets off to find out more...
Interviewing the remaining people around town, the reporter repeatedly hears that people had glimpses of the aliens around pools, the fishin' creek, and the local watering hole.
That night, the reporter heads out and sure enough finds a few of the alien women around the water. They flit about, soaking in the water but giving off a strange glow. They seem to communicate with each other, but give off no noise louder than a subtle vibration and hum.
The reporter is engrossed, taking all the notes he can to relay this back to his paper home in the city. He's so preoccupied that he doesn't hear the rustling of the grass behind him...
Something tapped the reporter on the shoulder. Over his yelp, the reporter didn't even make out the folksy inquiry from the stranger. The reporter bolted forward from the bushes but quickly slipped in the mud and lost his balance. It all happened so quickly that he couldn't shield himself and he caught a blow to the side of his head from a rock. His whole world flashed bright white before everything went fuzzy. The splash of the water as he flopped into it was almost deafening. The reporter groaned but all that came out was an unintelligible gurgle as the warm water flooded into his mouth. His vision now darkening, the last thing he saw was the soft purple glow of the alien women now hovering over him.
As light and the world came back to him, the reporter stirred. Groggy and unsure of where he was, he tossed and turned. The memories came back and his hand shot up to the side of his head where he hit the rock. The injury was wet and warm, fearing the worst, he had been bleeding for what could have been hours. He pulled his arm back, but instead of seeing red, his hand was covered in a translucent purple goo. He could still make out the sight of his hand under the jelly. Moving his fingers and then his wrist, the coating followed suit, effortlessly sliding and flowing to keep his hand covered. It shimmered in the bright lights around him but it didn't feel wet.
Propping himself up on the surface he was laid out on, the reporter looked down to see most of his body coated with the goo as well. He was sore and couldn't get up, but the jelly felt comforting. He struggled up more but heard the thrum of a signal in another room and the clang of what sounded like a metal door nearby...
The reporter turned around to see four of the town farmers make their way into the alien room. The one in the lead looked towards the confused outsider and cocked his head.
“We got 'nuther one in here. Send 'er over to the Thompson farm this time. They ain't had one yet.”
The reporter looked around. With effort he was able to open his mouth, the gel around it shifting and vibrating as he tested speaking. “Wh- Whu- What's going... on?”. The words sounded strange speaking through the coating. Muffled, but they hummed and quivered around his whole form.
The farmer looked surprised at the creature speaking. “Not quite dun yet, boys. Ah, since you'll be overtaken soon, guess there's no harm in explainin'.”
Another of the farmers stepped forward and motioned around the room. “Since those pretty goo ladies showed up, things have been real good for us out these ways. Whatever those aliens give off has been real fine for the crops and business has been picking up. Higher sales for lower effort and costs, don't you know. Saw that goo there transform one of the townspeople and make a new creature. Us good folk figured we'd do a bit of cultivating of our own. More aliens to help out more farms. Keep this country's backbone running real nice. Don't get many visitors around here, so it's nice when you people show up and keep the supply fresh.”
The farmers moved ahead but the reporter recoiled. A larger one stepped forward. “Now's time for you to come along. Don't worry that pretty goo head of yours. You ladies get treated quite nice. Happy alien makes better crops, so don't fret. Order you up a whole nice setup so you can live fancy.”
The farmer reached forward and grabbed the reporter's arm. He yelped, the vibrations causing his gel coating to shimmer, and the farmer's grip slipped loose from the goo. The reporter fled through another door and it whirred shut behind him. The ship beckoned him forward, calling him to its core.
He couldn't explain it, but the reporter knew some repairs had been completed and the aliens were preparing to leave. He could... feel the ship. There was a thrumming asking him to follow.
The reporter's head felt light, spinning with a million questions and unsure of what to do next. He could turn around and return to the town, living in luxury as some hybrid creature. But there was also time to cast off the shell, free himself from the aliens and the town, and run away to save himself. Or he could venture deeper into the ship, accept the alien boons, and have the greatest scoop of any reporter in history.
The reporter calmed himself and went over his options once more. He couldn't just give himself up and lose his identity to a collective alien hive mind. Who knows what they were capable of and what would happen to him, lost to himself and the world. However, he couldn't just shed the goo and return to humanity as if none of this happened. He was unsure if he even could strip off the goo, he could be infected, and papers were a dying media so what kind of life was he even returning to. His best option was to retain his hybrid form. Stay secluded and learn what he was now capable of, but to retain his individuality and mind.
A year had passed and the former reporter smiled as he thought over how quickly it had all gone. He surveyed his palatial garden and his pools on the outskirts of the farm. The greenhouse kept his world warm and moist and he felt at ease. The Thompson family had given him all the luxuries he could ask for and they were kind, especially their curious daughters that came to the reporter to play after school. But the reporter enjoyed his time alone as well, communing with the water and the earth.
It had become so easy to grow crops and make them thrive after such little work. His specialty had become enormous pumpkins, grown faster than any human could do. He occupied himself working on creating new forms of plant life, now that existing Earth plants have become so easy. Flowers and fruits in shapes and colors people had never seen before. He was unsure where the inspiration came from, but he felt joy in crafting them and seeing them thrive.
He finished up his night's work and felt a deep contentment looking over his garden. Slipping into the pool and out of the greenhouse, he floated in the warm night air, relaxing and glowing along with the moon.
