Night Visitor

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Ray Wilson is recounting the strange occurrences he experiences at night. Is this really happening to him or is he just plain crazy.

Submitted: August 14, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 14, 2018





They always come at night. I tell my friends. They don't believe me. You're a nut Ray is what they always say. I'm not. It's happened. Always in the dead of night. When the house is still. They come. The first time it happened I thought it was because of the greasy sandwich I ate before bed. Crazy images of distorted faces and strange smells fogged up my brain the next morning. I told my friend Rob that afternoon and he tole me to lay off the midnight snacks. We had a laugh and moved on.


A month later it happened again. This time. This time it was different. I wasn't tired. It was late, but I wasn't tired. I was wide awake watchin an old episode of Supernatural when I heard a loud pop. There was no one home but me. I swung my legs off the side of the bed. Only -I didn't. My legs didn't move. Couldn't move. Kept my cool though, just took a deep breath and tried again. I went to rub my eyes because my vision had blurred. Like trynna to stare through a frosted window in the middle of a monsoon. It wasn't no use anyway cause my arms were stuck. Damn neck felt like I got it caught in a vice grip and someone dropped a thirty-pound weight on my chest.


Somethin ripped the pillow from behind my head leavin me flat on my back. My breathin wasn't right and my damn eyes drooped. Last thing I remember was a face. Well, not quite a face. It was empty where the eyes should be, and the cheekbones looked like the edges of two sharp stones.


The next mornin, I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept in three days. I remember tiltin my head to get the crimp out my neck and somethin warm oozed from my ear. I barely wiped the crust from my eyes before high-tailing it to my doctor’s. And you know what they tole me? Wax. Ain't that a pile of bull crap! Said it was natural for the ear to cleanse itself. Horseshit! That dumb ass doctor don't know shit. Soon as I walked in my door, I called up my insurance company and changed doctors. Hmpf.


After gettin' rid of that no-good doctor, I jumped on my computer and googled all the crap that been happenin' to me and guess what come up? Extra-terrestrials. Somethin about the fourth kind. That's when it all made sense. I'd been probed by aliens! What are the effen odds? I called everyone in my address book. They all laughed at me. Called me a kook. Said I should take some time off work. I don't need no fucking time off work- I'm a damn pet groomer. Nothin fucking stressful bout that.


The bastards wouldn't get me a third time. I had a plan to take of those damn aliens. Goin round probin peoples butts and stuff, its not right. This time I had protection. A steel bat I picked up from the sports store. But, they didn't come that night or even the next. I waited. Every night I sat up till dawn with my bat. Hmpf, even smartened up and bought me one of those gas mask things off one of those internet sites. Those fuckers wouldn't catch me by surprise again.


Bout six weeks into the waitin game my friend Ray told me... I meant Rob, his name is Rob, my name is Ray. Rob told me I looked like some old turd he had stepped in the other day and scraped on the sidewalk. I laughed like I hadn't laughed in weeks. He was right. Shit, I looked at myself in the mirror. I lost a good twenty pounds, dark ass circles was under my eyes, acne all over my face and shit. I hadn't had acne since I was thirteen.


What's that you say? No, I never believed in them before this. Do you? Not gonna answer huh. Well, anyway, I needed sleep, so I decided to set up my camera to get these fucks on film. Sorry about the language, but this shi – it's damn frustratin. Whew, I remember the night I set up that camera, slept like a damn drunk after a nights worth of boozing, ass, and pizza. I felt like myself. First thing I did was take a look at the camera. Do you know that damn piece of crap camera didn't record shit?


No, it was on, but a huge chunk of time was missin. No, I didn't delete it! I'm not a gee dee idiot. I am calm! No, I want to finish this now! So, uh, where was I?


Oh, yeah. I checked the camera again. Nothin'. Thought maybe the battery ran out or sumthin' and chalked it up to bad luck. Figured I'd try again the next night. Maybe nothin' happened that night cause, I felt good you know.


My hose was bout to leak so I hustled to the bathroom. Damn near pissed myself when I peeked in the mirror and seen these huge red damn welts all over my face and arms. Like someone gave my hickeys with a vacuum hose.


Are you some effen idiot? Of course, I would remember if I had a woman over and what asshole would put hickeys all over someone’s face anyway? The doctor tole me it was hives. Gave me some Benadryl and tole me to relax.


Well, the night before I ended up—here—I can't really... It's hard to explain what actually happened. I set up my camera just as I had for the past few nights took a Benadryl and dozed off to an episode of the Twilight Zone. Somethin woke me up, don't know what. When I tried to move I couldn't. I was stuck. Not that my body wasn't workin, I mean I was stuck, face down on some kinda watery silver thingy. I don't have no silver nothing in my house. Then, I tried liftin my face up and I could hear my skin tearin. I hollered louder than a five-dollar whore being screwed by a polar bear. This tall mother-effer came round to the side of me-


Huh? What were they wearin? What the fuck does it matter?


This damn thing was taller than shit, taller than anyone I knew. Definitely wasn't one of my prick friends playin a joke. My face stung like a son of hell.


Then the thing touched me. Oh man. Its slimy and sticky. And the smell. Damn! Like a dead frog rolled in dog shit. Damn near lost my stomach. Then it took that nasty ass shitty frog finger and stuck it in my mouth. I wanted to clamp down on it and tear it off, but my mouth was jacked open. Nothin holdin it, no clamp or nothin. Just open. Then somethin entered me – you know- there. I ain't never been so… the finger and the other thing snaked through my body like a big ass tapeworm. I swear I felt them connect in my belly.

Whew, man. I'm alright. I just need a moment.


So, anyway when it pulled out, I uh, I felt my organs shift inside me. Crazy shit right. Anyhow, after they finished, the damn things must have forgotten the knock out gas. Cause when I blinked I was back in my place sittin in my recliner with a straight razor in my hand.


No, I didn't! I keep tellin you I didn't!


My face burned like hell. I had blood all over my hands and drippin down my chin. My shirt was soaked. I dropped the razor and shot out my chair. I took a step to run and my feet came right from under me. Crashed to the damn floor like a sack of dead kittens. My back hurt like a son ova whore. I checked to see what had floored me.

Oh yeah, I found it.

I picked it up thinkin it was a piece of old bologna with some kind of steak sauce on it. Doc—it was my fuckin cheek or a piece of it. I screamed. It wasn't no manly scream either.

Musta passed out cause next thing I know, I'm here talkin to you.

Have you seen it Doc?

Does my face look bad?

I ain't never been a looker but I get my fair share of tail.

Are the ladies gonna run away with their legs clamped together screamin?

I see.

Anyways, back to my room I go. Nice chattin with you, Doc.


Once the medicine took hold, Ray Carroll conked out for the night. The overhead lights switched off in the single bedroom he occupied at Lynn Shawn's Home for the Mentally Challenged. Mr. Wilson, the stooped old orderly, quietly closed the door and headed back to the supply closet. He had heard this same story each night for the walked into Ray's room. He usually saved Ray for last, so he could hear the story. It amused him because Ray was usually deep in conversation by the time he entered the room and the story never changed. Ray also never acknowledged the orderlies entrance. He just kept up his one-sided conversation with his imaginary doctor until the medicine finally put him to sleep.


The old orderly strolled down the hall whistling Darth Vaders theme music. It must be miserable living inside your own head like that. Mr. Wilson shook his head. Aliens, ha. When he turned the corner, he realized he hadn’t locked the door after his exit. The orderly hurried back down the hall. As he reached the room a flash of light illuminated his work boots from beneath the door. The orderly pushed it open and what he saw in that room changed him forever.


The facility had the seasoned orderly committed. They diagnosed him with delusional disorder and set up a second bed for him in Ray’s room. Mr. Wilson, who had visited Ray each night to listen to his story, had now become a part of his story.


And, each night, They came for their visit with test subjects number 326120 and 326150.

© Copyright 2018 Linette Dee. All rights reserved.

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