Amongst Aliens in the Deep

== AMONGST ALIENS IN THE DEEP ==
=== By Mohamed Qovaizi ===
Published in StoryStar 2010
I could barely breathe, let alone escape. Two men on adjacent sides
carried me, along with the other captives, within the boundaries of a barred
box. I am to be transported across the Namib desert, or so they told me. My
abductor hid from labour and the blazing sun; his transportation was to be
accommodated by a miniature tent onboard a hefty camel. Filthy water and scarce
pieces of bread made a single day's meal. After all, it was instructed that I'd
be kept alive; it made no apparent difference if I was to hang by a simple
thread.
My caged companions, whom I've only known since the beginning of my
trip, have lost whatever minds they had. Frantic chattering, and howling
screams controlled their current language. They, themselves, are lost now. I
suppose I am next to follow. That is, if it hasn't begun already. I could
almost make out thick figures dancing with the dissipating heat. My only
defence is to keep myself fully calm and cling onto even the slightest
consciousness.
"What do they look like, your captors? Can you see their
faces?"
"They seem familar but ... I can only sense them... I don't know
who they are... and ... their faces are ... well ... they're twisted..."
"Their faces are twisted? How so?"
"I don't know, abnormal, disfigured maybe."
"see what happens ne ... Actually this ought to be enough for
now."
I eventually awaken at the sound of a blast-like handclap. My eyes
wander madly around an undersized room only to vaguely remember what brought me
to this man, now facing me. All I recall is my panting, my hurry to reach him.
It took me a moment or so to regain full consciousness, and my ever so familiar
memory.
Najee Sedua, 36 years of age, recently married. My introductions usually
include nothing too bizarre. That is, until I get into why I need the help I'm
seeking. I've gone through enough tests to establish that there is nothing
whatsoever wrong with me mentally, and even I had my doubts before then.
Upon arriving at Mr. Lurr's office, master in the study and practise of
regression hypnosis, I couldn't help but start with the disappearances. I
tended to vanish without a trace, for an hour or even an entire day's span,
with no recollection of where I've spent my lost time. I'm reluctant to say
that this only became more frequent as I aged. I wondered what Mr. Lurr thought
of my claims, my vague symptoms of a damaged mind. He has to believe every word
of it, he is nevertheless my last hope. Yes, free if only one answer and reveal
it to me.
There is one thing that didn't seem random, a dream that repeated itself
every time I faded from existence, taking place in a desert setting. Until now,
I could only remember mere fragments of the dream. With Mr. Lurr's aide, I may
be able to find some sort of key buried beneath that sea of whitened sand.
I lay there, unfolding my miseries to the man, the miseries I've been
forced to furnish my life around. He lowered his head, and remained silent. I
found myself competing with a clock's ticking, hanging there on one of the bare
walls it was the only thing emanating any sound along mine. Then I felt it, the
room grew cold, the lights went dim. The clock's hands became motionless, but
still it kept a rhythmic ticking. My limbs became constrained by an unseen
grip. They've come for me. Their silhouettes crowd the room. I can hear the
cries of the ones they've taken already. Will they bring me back? I am certain
that I can barely breathe, let alone escape. Guide me angels and keep me safe,
if only this time alone.
Category:Web=published
Category:StoryStar
Category:Qovaizi
Category:Web-Published