Unacknowledged and Ignored
The Chosen One
Owen gasps artificial Earth air when he wakes back up. He’s laid out on a cold metal table in the middle of a dark room. All he can see is a blaring white spotlight above him; he can even see it when he closes his eyes, the shape of the elliptical bulb is burned into his corneas like the pattern of a branding iron in a cow’s hide.
“Hello?!” Owen calls out into the darkness.
“What is this, where am I?”
A hiss erupts from behind. Owen tries to sit up and turn so he can see what made the noise, but he seems to be strapped to the table by metal restraints wrapped tightly around both of his ankles, both of his wrists, and his neck. No matter how much he struggles the bindings do not budge, and the hunger pangs in his stomach only get worse as the anxiety firmly sets in.
“Somebody answer me, I demand it! What the fuck have you done to me?!”
‘Calm now, child of Earth. All is as it should be.’
The voice came from inside of Owen’s head, but it wasn’t his voice. Human beings are not capable of telepathy – well, Owen is, obviously, although usually it’s different than this. Usually it’s just a knowing, usually he can tell that other humans are thinking terrible things about him, that they’re plotting his downfall just by looking at them, but this time it’s a foreign voice in his head. A wise, calm voice… a voice which couldn’t possibly belong to a human being.
The gears click: Owen died in the forest, he hit his head on a rock when he fell down after colliding with the tree, and he’s now waking up in the spacecraft. The extraterrestrials will unstrap him from this device (which obviously throws his consciousness into a human’s body) and they’ll ask him to pass his highest judgment on the planet Earth. And he’ll tell them that humankind isn’t worth saving, and he’ll get to watch as the lasers decimate the planet and all the sniveling little rodents living on–
‘Wait, something’s not right here. Why am I still in my human body?’ Owen thinks privately to himself. Beads of sweat form on his brow, and it is at this point that he realizes he’s been stripped naked.
‘Everything is as it should be, young human. You’ve no reason to fret.’
Two beings come into view on either side of Owen. They’re fat, plaster white, and completely hairless. Humungous black eyes take up the majority of their heads. No noses, no mouths, no ears, just swollen craniums perched atop long, bulbous bodies which extend down below Owen’s field of vision. From the fat rolled up under what appears to be their chins leaks a viscous slimy material which reeks of spoiled fruit. The fumes are potent, plenty more intoxicating than the ink in his notebook. He tries to shout, but the beings just stare down at him with their cold, soulless eyes, either unable to hear his pleas or just plain ignoring them.
Then he tries speaking in his mind again. ‘That was a private thought, you had no business reading it!’
The replying voice is cool and serene. ‘All is as it should be, star child. You have been chosen.’
‘I’ve been… chosen?’ Owen thinks as his anxiety suddenly begins to subside.
‘Yes, you have been chosen to represent your species in our ever-expanding compendium of biological lifeforms. It will all be over soon.’
Owen is taken aback – he was right, he’s the chosen one after all! His parents are going to eat their words in a double serving when he gets out of all of this, they’re going to… they’re… it will all be over soon?
‘What do you mean it will all be over soon?’
A girthy tentacle rises from below the far end of the table. It bears a small device sporting more blades than a pair of scissors, and the blades are moving, seemingly with an intelligence of their own. The beings stare down at Owen like he’s nothing but a piece of meat, their eyes unblinking, their necks dribbling their viscous slime, neither of them making a single sound.
‘All is as it should be. It will all be over soon, young one. All is as it should be.’
‘No, NO, NNNOOOO!” Owen thinks, then begins to scream when the surgical device makes its first cut, the blade entering his stomach just below the protruding belly button. The alien beings slice Owen clean up the middle, stopping at the neck to peel back his skin like moss off a rock, and then they start on his arms. Then, his legs. Then, his junk, and that’s when Owen blacks out.
Hello Commons, this has been the fourth subchapter of the first story from Convenient Incidents, an anthology of fifteen interconnected short stories which revolve around a man by the name of Hilter Odolf Williamson.
Convenient Incidents is part of the Third Spiral, an anthology of sorts called The Here and Now which is comprised of stories told from the various planes of Existence.
Convenient Incidents is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
If you like Convenient Incidents and would like to help support my work, click here and buy an autographed copy of the book (or anything else!) from my store. Alternatively, you can snag a cheaper (and unsigned) copy from Amazon by clicking here.
Be well Commons~