Alien bloom 982
by Jeff Fleming
One evening in late October, I thrashed my old rusty scythe at my overgrown lawn, whilst practising the odd golf swing. That’s when the flying saucer arrived. It hovered, casting shadows. Startled, I struck my foot, saved only by the scythes bluntness.
The saucer hovered, then lurched sideways, then sedately landed, flattening the grass. I kept the scythe anyway. I’ve watched alien abduction movies! The saucer bounced a while, then a door opened. There stood the alien, for real, space suit, ray gun, no helmet. Very, very, 1950’s scfi B movie. I raised the scythe. The alien watched me. Whatever they say, she, definitely a she, wasn’t grey but bright chlorophyll green.
She waved her gun, I pointed my scythe. She stepped onto the top stair, then back. At last she spoke.
‘Can you hold the steps for me.’
Unthinking I did so. Near the bottom, those stairs collapsed. I grabbed hold, her weight dragged me down,
‘My antigravity isn’t right.’ she turned a knob on her sleeve and would have floated away, but I held on.
‘Technology never works!’
Feet firmly planted, she was much too close. She took ten steps backwards, her eyes never leaving the scythe, then tripped into the fish pond. I tried to help. She waddled on her backside further away.
‘Let me get out or I will take root. Step back!’
I did so.
‘Why aren’t you a green Arcturan? What’s happened? This brochure said…’
‘Is this,’ gulp, ‘an invasion?’ I asked.
‘An invasion?’ ‘Erm, maybe. Take me to your…’ she hesitated.
‘… My leader? Is that what you mean?’
‘No… one of the big… big…erm…’.
Now I was helping an alien invader with her vocabulary. ‘The Big Brass? Army?’
‘No… a big book, no-one ever opens.’
‘No lots of words in it.’
‘The Bible has lots….’
‘A dictionary.’ She smiled at last. I fetched my Collins. She leafed through… ‘It’s like invasion…’
Should I call the police, or try do-it-yourself alien culling.
‘Oh, wrong word! Vacation! Not invasion, stupid language. sounds the same… anyway…That’s the word.’
‘A cup of tea, perhaps?’ How English could I get? How inane, spoken to a creature from space. She nodded. Tea and biscuits followed in my kitchen.
Vacation or not, I kept the scythe by my side. She watched my tea making distrustingly. Well, how could we trust each other, a bright-green alien girl, with long green hair and a dull pinkish human. Finally,
‘It’s my holiday, but my rental ship is awful, things keep falling off. It never points where I want to go. I wanted the Galaxy’s pleasure resort of Arcturus.’
‘Um.’ I replied.
We talked. She was… well…. a chef in an alien version of McDonald’s. I commiserated, having done similar myself. She’d saved hard for this holiday. Our conversation now approached normal… for two people discussing a faster than light trip in a broken flying saucer. Then she spoiled it, unholstered that gun. I leapt away, scythe held high.
‘It’s not a weapon! It’s my repair kit, to fix the steps. It jabbed my side, honest.’ She dropped the gun/screwdriver, and I made more tea.
‘I must fix the steps and everything. Can I stay? Can we trust each other.’ she asked through a mouthful of chocolate digestive.
As I opened some wine, my hand strayed near that raygun/screwdriver. She grabbed it.
‘You said it’s a screw driver. I was just looking.’
‘It might not be.’ Then, ‘You cut vegetation with that scythe.’
‘I’m green, see, a plant, a chlorophyll based life form. To plants, that’s a frightening weapon.’
‘Sorry.’ I dropped the scythe outside, through the window. She looked happier. Her gun/screwdriver now sat on my plate.
We talked a while. Evening turned to night. She looked tired. I said,
‘Tomorrow I help with the spaceship. How does this thing work?’
‘It really isn’t a weapon, unless you are a loose screw.’
I nodded. It felt light and flimsy,
‘How can we trust each other?
‘Well you animal types have a habit of eating us plant types.’ She giggled, ‘Little green aliens at home eat animals…’
‘Um’. I said.
‘Can we go shopping?’
‘Yes… I mean no. You’ll frighten everyone.’
‘What about the beach?’
‘Same thing.’ I could imagine this bright green thing arriving at the seafront with everyone screaming and running like ‘War of The Worlds’.
‘Watch a movie?’ Was she reading my mind? Who knew?
‘I’ll get a takeaway.’
‘And more alcohol please. My name is Alien Bloom. Better call me Aileen’
‘I’m a plant remember.’
A nicely strange evening followed. An ancient movie, ‘Them’, her choice from my collection.
The film, pizza, wine ended. She said. ‘I know how we can trust each other.’
‘We sleep together.’
‘Sex?’ I was aghast.
‘No stupid. I’m a plant remember. We sleep. Go unconscious in each others’ arms. That induces trust, right?’
That night it was not like hugging a tree, it was worse,
‘You’re uncomfortable. All tensed up and hunched.’
‘The space suit doesn’t help. Your sharp bits dig in.’
‘Sorry.’ She slipped out of bed, slipped off the suit and returned. Now I could feel her curvy warmth.
‘No better,’ I said ‘Py…
‘…jamas’ we spoke the end of the word together.
I grabbed a pair and threw them to her…
Next morning my neighbour Gordon walked in, Aileenn hid but Gordon didn’t seem worried that I was breakfasting with a green alien vegetable life-form.
‘Hi Jeff I need coffee.’ He sat and gulped down Aileenn’s cup.
‘Jeff! She’s gorgeous.’
‘Ha ha! That girl is stunning!’
The Penny dropped, Gordon is colour blind. He hadn’t noticed. Then my idea arrived,
‘What’s today Gordon?’
‘Halloween! Morris Dancers! Booze! Fancy dress!’
So, Aileenn got her beach, shopping, stroll round, and company. We blended in well. She wore my torn T-shirt and I wore her space suit.
Jeff’s early life was wasted, spent in a variety of ways including children’s homes and being fostered, and stealing food. But he got a place in a decent school which allowed him to realise there is a world out there!.
He escaped the system… got himself an exciting job and even more dangerous life threatening holiday adventures. Life has been a continual upward trend on the graph! Now he spends his days very enjoyably writing stories, stories to make people laugh, sci fi to raise your consciousness and supernatural stories to make your skin creep. He does not do horror (except very occasionally!)