Journal 4

The green laser blasts lite up the living room in a horrific style. I bolted to the window, eyes as wide as dinner plates, gaping for an explanation. I didn’t look far. There, floating in the sky in front of my house and over top my neighborhood was a massive mother ship, gleaming in the night like its own city. The lights were magnificent, so colorful and numerous. If only I could appreciate them more instead of worrying about them blasting my face off. It’s just like I had pictured it to be. Only better.

I vault the denim couch and kick a corner of the rug up as I run through the house to the backyard. A corner of the right wing explodes upon my arrival outside and everything goes silent. Crouching in my patio doorway, I can see people running everywhere frantically. In all my training the most constant theme was control. Do not, under any circumstance, lose your head. These people had.

The shrieking of the lasers comes back into ear shot slowly at first, then all of a sudden it’s like I had never left. I look up at the mother ship and to my dismay the hangers are opening like jaws of an enormous shark. “Wonderful,” I think to myself, now I have those to worry about as well. I force my feet to action and the long sprint across the yard to the bunker begins. It’s as if time is made of molasses, oozing down a slope. The tension grinding in my teeth and twinging through my bones is agonizing combined with the overwhelming feeling that  wasn’t going anywhere. It’s almost enough to drive a man insane. Good thing I’m already “insane.”

A shock wave to my left sends me hurtling towards the bunker much faster than I had intended. My body feels shattered as I crash into the earth but I know it is only the shock, thankfully. I shake the feeling and get to my feet. The bunker door is only moments from me now and the cool keys on the keypad feel more welcoming than ever.

993256541

Why the fuck did I make that password so long…

I slam the door behind me and the automatic fluorescent lighting signals a change in the winds. I run across the cat walk to the cockpit and jump into the commanding seat. As the machine begins to turn on, I am reminded of my childhood days when I used to play with toys much like the one I now manned. What were they called again? Transformers? The ceiling splits open revealing the aerial nightmare above and I smile. Game time.

 

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Journal 4

  1. Warren Rochelle says:

    Journal 4 was due on Friday, November 16, at 11:59 p.m. This was “Posted on November 18, 2012.”