The Sam Sawyer Publishing House

1 Sam Sawyer

Earth Man


Curtis Ray Jones

Chapter One


“What are you?” Sam Sawyer’s young mother asked under her breath as she peered down into his white wicker bassinet. The only reasonable answer ‘my baby boy’ did not pop into her mind. His little sky-blue eyes did not blink as she searched them for some semblance of herself. They did however focus, scan and absorb. A tiny tear swelled in his right eye until it finally rolled down his cheek. She cocked her head, snorted and turned away.

She asked that simple question twenty-three years ago. She did not know he heard it much less carried it in his chest like an aneurism…

An early spring dotted the typically mild coastal county of New Hanover North Carolina with splashes of yellow red orange blue and green. Sam hardly noticed as he squinted against the first rays of day light flashing through the pines as his little Rio raced down the winding road like a silver bullet. His mother’s question pounding in his mind like a heartbeat, he struggled to navigate the giant peg board of pines, oaks and underbrush that led to her house. Was he running from a mere nightmare, or was he running toward the hideous memory his nightmare had just revealed? He was not sure. It prayed it was the former and not the latter.

 A forgotten curve swung into view. He yanked the steering wheel, stomped the brake skidded off the road and jolted to a break neck stop mere inches from a huge pine. He didn’t make the curve. But he didn’t hit the tree either. It wasn’t luck. It was reflexes-new, unnatural and unnoticed. It was then he knew. A harmless nightmare would have faded by now. The dream was not a dream. It was a remembrance, an awakening. His past, his Mother’s past came back to claim him.

Someone, something answered her old question last night answered it loud enough for him to hear.  “I’m an Alien.” He yelled at the tree half expecting it to answer. Why shouldn’t it? Reality was crumbling. Anything, everything was not only possible it was coiled tight, quivering with tension ready to explode in his face and blow him away.

Slamming his gear shift into park, he switched off his car and got out. The dream, the memory, he needed to touch it, embrace it, relive it. Moreover, he was in no shape to drive. He needed to talk to his mother, but first he needed to clear his head, clear the air. Reconcile, so much to reconcile.





But there was something more pressing. He sensed she’d served her purpose. What did that mean for her? Nothing good. Still wrecking his car, breaking his neck. What good would that do? An odd notion popped in his head. Maybe breaking his neck was no longer something he need concern himself with? One new reality at a time please.

He clumped over to the tree, slumped against it and slid down until damp pine straw cradled his butt. Settle, relax let the cool quiet of the forest seep in and gently push the ‘dream’ into the day- into his little, dated reality…

Beneath a moonless star flecked sky Seth Sawyer and his new bride Sarah plowed through the darkness, sailing on a sea of happy ignorance. The stars above nothing more than tiny specks of harmless light pinned against the black. Delightfully cocooned and bathed in the soft green dash lights of their new Silverado, they were happily alone in their love. Or so they thought.

A star moved. High silent and determined, it swelled swerved and changed. Hidden from view by the truck roof, it morphed from a speck of light to a nebulous white glob to a gleaming white sphere that dwarfed the truck, unnoticed by the happy clueless couple. Behind them blackness dulled to soft gray as the great sphere slowly closed the gap between them.

 It was 2 A.M. Sunrise was hours away. Noticing the sudden greyness but seeing no headlights approaching he glanced at his rear-view mirror then quickly looked away, blinded and annoyed.

A big truck back there? No. He didn’t think so, too bright. Besides it had one light not two. A big motor cycle, hovering above the road? No way. Then what?

 Sarah cuddled under his arm, felt his body tense.

“What is it?” She asked?

“Nothing’ just some guy back there.” He lied. “Go around dude, go ‘round.”

It went over.

“Helicopter!” He said louder than he intended, desperate for an explanation.

“What the….”

A blinding wall of white dropped like a curtain two feet from his front bumper.

He hit the brakes. The truck shuddered but did not stop. It did, however, change direction. It rose! They clung to each other shielding their eyes against each other’s bodies, as the truck tilted upward, and blinding light bore through their brains rendering them unconscious.



Warm air, heavy with moisture clung to their naked bodies as they floated face up at the center of a sickly pink fifty-foot pulsating sphere of living tissue. They were still unconscious. But that would not last.  

Beneath them snake like fingers slowly ripped the sphere’s pulsing membrane tearing a hole big enough for two tall spindly gray human-like creatures to ‘birth’ themselves into the chamber. Slithering out together they promptly parted company. One sidled up to Sarah’s feet and coiled its serpentine fingers around her bare ankles, parting her legs as he pulled himself up between her knees. The other glided up to her head.  Curling up and over her face until its large snake egg head was mere inches from her eyes. Its fingers gathered about her head skittering up her cheeks until its fingertips met at the center of her forehead. Her eyes sprang open. Her lips trembled and parted. Bubbly slobber erupted and gathered over her lips. Seth was suddenly able to see, even turn his head toward her. Their captors had granted them this small freedom. It was not an act of mercy.

Seth had never seen her like this, unclothed. They were virgins. This was their honeymoon night. His naked body wobbled slightly. His eyes glistened. A murmur escaped his trembling lips as his fingers curled ever so slightly. He thought he was thrashing, punching and kicking. He was not. Screamed curses echoed in his mind heard by no one, but him.

The one between her legs was busily defiling her with a long wiry needle protruding from its right index finger. He could only watch. The other turned to glare at him. There was no smile. Its lips a slight slit could never muster such a human act. Two tiny holes was all the nose it had. But its eyes, all pupil, deep black slanted teardrops encircling its oversized snake egg head like wraparound sunglasses bore into him.

The living sack room that held them at its center, began to hum. Louder and louder it hummed until it became an ear piercing unbearable high-pitched whine. It was during this time the needle bearing creature punctured her deepest part, scraped, harvested and deposited.

 Something blossomed inside her, took root and began to grow. Its presence spread like blood in water. She would call it Sam, thinking of the Son of Sam psycho when she named him at his birth.

Their main objective complete, they turned their attention to him. He screamed as they invaded and abused his body in the most disgusting humiliating ways possible. Having extracted every bodily fluid and secretions a human body can produce. They focused on his head.  Their fingers gathered about it like an undulating nest that kneaded and pressed until they breached his mind and promptly ripped it open.  He shrieked. They all heard. Sarah could do nothing, except feel tears boil up in her eyes. The creatures clung tightly to Seth’s body as if preparing for what was to come.



The great Sack’s reaction was as powerful as it was inescapable. It rippled and contracted apparently trying to expel them. It was as if it had bitten off more than it could chew. Seth and Sarah suddenly knew what a fish bone must feel like when it becomes lodged in someone’s throat. The dense sticky air clenched around them like invisible tentacles flinging them about so violently they thought they were about to have their eyeballs slung out. Somehow, they remained centered, never actually moving near the living tissue walls that encased them. Eventually the Sack thing slowly settled down and allowed darkness to reclaim its captives. It had taken all that it could, for now.

They awoke hours later in their truck. Clumsily dressed and disoriented they had no memory of their impossible ordeal. The creatures stole four hours from them, and so much more.

They would slowly regain most of that night in the form of nightmarish flashes and telepathic instructions and warnings that would haunt and control them for the rest of their lives…

Golden sunlight bathed the pines. Its warm light caressed his face, gently drawing him back to the present.

“My father’s memory was my dream, his past. Our past came back,” He said as he stood up, “Why now, to teach me? Is it time, time for what, to learn or to do? Both?” They had opened his father’s mind, linked the four, no the six of them together in a most horrific way. At least he now possessed a piece of his dead father he never knew existed-not a small gift.

 The ‘room’ was a living creature that craved knowledge and experience. It, they (it was only one of many) recently found Earth and its emotionally charged inhabitants. Feelings, a novelty so different, so intriguing, strongly suggesting these primitive Earth beings could well possess a pathway to a deeper reality. The Olorans, (their ancient ancestral name) found themselves trapped, compelled to learn more, ensnared by their innate curiosity and wanderlust.

 Their ancient past was suddenly unfolding in his mind like a book blown open by a strong wind. But the wind was blowing him away. He had to stop it. Not knowing what else to do he balled up his fist and slammed it against his jaw. Pain shot through his head. He stumbled sideways and crashed against a tree. The world, his world came rushing back as he sank to his knees and let it refill him. A few moments passed before he was able to return to his car and crawl back inside.

Encased and secure inside his familiar metal cocoon, his mind began to clear, but that only invited more questions.

 That thing, that Alien entity, Oloran, was still there, in his head, whispering strange words he could not yet make out, much less understand. He came from it. He served its purpose, even now he was servicing it. Was he it?

Sam snatched the door handle, flung the door open and sprayed vomit all over the ground.



“I am not it!” The strikingly handsome young man yelled wiping slime from his mouth as he spoke. “I am not you!”

Green pine needles danced beneath the blue as they rustled against a light breeze. Birds chirped, insects clicked and buzzed. Golden haze sagged undisturbed between the trees. Nothing that did not belong was out here, nothing except him. Because he was not alone. Never had been. He dropped back into his seat, pulled the rear-view mirror down and peered into it. “What are you?” He asked, his tone sharp with accusation.

His eyes narrowed as he studied his Hollywood handsome face, his thick wavy black hair and creamy blue eyes. Then it hit him. He was looking at a construct, an idealized conception of what an Earth man should look like.

The question still hung in his head, unanswered.











Sam Sawyer

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