The family was sleeping and I wanted to get a run in before breakfast. I was a happily disorientated by the smell of bacon and coffee. The enticing smell followed me to the front door, where I sat to put on my shoes. I half jokingly thought it might be a pre-cursor to a heart attack.
I came out the front door and immediately pissed myself. There at the end of the drive way was a silver ship. Standing outside was a tall grey creature with eyes the size of dinner plates.
I can only imagine how wide his sight lines were, or how much of the visual spectrum he could take in. HE. I have no idea if he was a he or a she. I just can’t say it. I never believed in God until I saw that obviously alien creature on my lawn one summer morning.
There were no words exchanged, but rather, a type of empathic probing, so at least that part satisfies Hollywood predictability.
She was confused, a little scared, awestruck, thirsty. Thirsty was the strongest emotion. She had a deep thirst that was the lead in a dance with all the other emotions.
She needed something that could help her understand. My mind rested on one thing I though would help. I went back inside to my bookshelf and brought her back a single book. There were many more I wanted to grab, that I wish I had at hand to lend, but I could only give one. I could feel it. Feel it without words.
I handed her A History of God: The 4,000-Year Quest of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, by Karen Armstrong.
I thought it would her her put the madness of humanity into some context. I don’t know how many other people were visited that morning. Or have been visited in other ways.
I do hope that someone gave her a funny book. Our sense of humor is probably the only thing that can save us.
written in response to The Daily Prompt: Worldly Encounters