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Bodvar - 🐻 + 🛡 + ⚔️ - I Am The Bear-Viking - Botvar
- SS - Mean Green Streak of Hammer
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- DS - BMG has a shadow obsession
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- DS - Spinnin’ Around On The Ground
- NS - Green Screens For Everyone
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- DS - ⬆️⬇️This Is Why I Am Friends With Cassidy
- NS - *Part Of The Official Shooting At The Floor Club
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- DS - Slamming The Ground Causes A Burst Of Electricity #NowYouKnowMoment
- NS - When You Get Re-Elected
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- DS - geometry
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- DS - Ice Cream Scooper
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- DS - Why Is It Ovular? More Like How Is It Ovular??????
- NS - Diagonal Holy Poke
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- DS - Spinny Cat
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- DS - Clashing Claws (I Insisted On Second Generation Back-Scratcher)
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- SS -
- DS - Minecraft Mining Expectations vs. Reality
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- DS -
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The Alien Tech Was Stolen
It's been 6 months since my last post, and I'm sorry for leaving you guys hanging, but I had very, very urgent matters that needed my immediate attention. In a series of updates, I'll fill you all in on what happened, but it's gonna take some time to achieve that. For now, I'll give you this update, and I'll tell you as much as I can right now.
After posting my last update, I was elated to have gotten what I know out there. The night that the last update went up, I slept like a baby. I was so, so tired: If an earthquake happened, I would've likely slept right through it. My brain was so fried from all of the excitement and intensity that came with owning hardware from another world. Yes: I was absolutely spent.
The next day, I woke up around 2:30 PM. I was still recovering from the events of the previous day, so I pondered the idea of taking an 'off day', but knew that I'd likely be right back to working on the foreign technology. With a yawn, I stretched my limbs as far and wide as I could. Rolling out of bed, I rubbed my eyes, getting ready for the day. My mouth had that gross taste that you get after a long, undisturbed sleep, so I decided to go brush my teeth.
Upon exiting my bedroom, I felt a cold breeze. I shivered in response to this out of place, unusually chilly stream of air. In my tired haze, I thought that the A/C was set too low, so I made my way to the living room. Stumbling exhausted to the thermostat, I saw a sight that made me freeze in my tracks. In an instant, I was completely awake, all because my front door was wide open.
I'm already paranoid enough on my own, but when I saw that door swinging in the cold December wind, I became panicked. I rushed to the door, slamming it shut. Like a lunatic, I held my back to the door, scanning the interior of my house with bloodshot eyes. Nothing appeared to be out of order, nor did anything look like it had been taken. I thought that, after Greg slammed my door in a fit of childish anger, he had broken it. I began to calm myself down, running my hand down my face as I shook my head.
"That motherfucker owes me a new door", I said under my breath, making my way to the couch.
Just what I needed: a panic attack, right as I got out of bed. I sat on the couch, sinking into the cushions as I slowed my heart rate. Sitting by myself, I thought of how paranoid I was. Yeah, I had a reason to be, but I also knew that nobody had any idea of what I was doing, aside from Greg. Yes, Greg and I had a history of spats and falling outs, but we still remained friends. I don't know, man: we just had a brotherly bond, even though I had isolated myself from everyone I know.
As I began to come back to my senses, my eyes lazily scanned the room. For no apparent reason, I began to get the feeling that something was different. Almost like an itch that you can't scratch, the sensation of, what I can only describe as 'misplacement', began to nag at me even more. Stroking the thin stubble on my chin, my head turned every which way, looking around for the cause of the feeling. Like a truck load of bricks, it came crashing down onto me.
"Oh my god!", I shouted, realizing that the bin of alien tech was missing. In a frenzy, I shot up from the couch, flipping it over, strength enhanced from the adrenaline.
"Not there", I mumbled, rushing over to my computer desk. My hands firmly grabbed the desk, violently pulling it away from the wall.
"Not there either!". Even though I knew that I wasn't going to find the technology anywhere, I still wanted to believe that I had somehow misplaced it. I checked in the kitchen, the bathroom, my own room, and even the damn walk-in pantry, but alas, the equipment was nowhere to be seen. I tried telling myself that I just wasn't in my right mind, that, in my sleep deprived state, I had put the bin of tech somewhere stupid, but I knew in my gut what really happened.
I sprinted back to my room, snatching my phone off the nightstand. Without hesitation, I called my 'brotherly' friend, Greg. As I waited for him to answer, I was seething with rage. If I had been standing in front of a mirror, I might've actually seen pure, unfiltered, burning rage seeping from my pores.
"Pick up the damn phone! Pick up - pick up - pick up!", I ranted, pacing back and forth while shouting the usual expletives. As soon as I heard the call go to voicemail, I threw my phone with the strength of a kicking mule into the wall. Oddly enough, the device didn't shatter into a billion pieces, so I had to hear Greg's annoying, mocking voice.
"I'm probably busy or some shit, so unless you're my main bitch, don't call back", Greg's prerecorded voice echoed through my room, causing me to burst into a monstrous, earth-shattering tirade.
"Greg! Bring it back here right now! I swear to Christ, Greg, if you sold the shit that I went through hell to get and fix, I'll literally throw you in front of a fucking train!". The stark contrast of the pleasant, mild 'beep' that sounded after my verbal explosion was almost humorous, and would have been, if I wasn't on the cusp of breaking a man's spine in half with my bare hands.
Finding what little bearings I had left, I slumped against the wall, letting my weak, strained body slide down to the floor. I felt the most intense, depressing sense of sheer hopelessness. I began to think of all the opportunities that I had with the alien tech, all the fun and exploration that I could've indulged in, and ruminating on it only made it worse. To me, that was rock bottom, and there was no light to be found, until a startling noise cut right through the stagnant air.
My ears perked up as my head jerked to the direction of the noise. To my surprise, my phone was ringing. Like a sad, diseased rat, I meagerly crawled on my hands and knees to answer the phone. The screen was severely cracked in a spiderweb-like way, but I could make out that the caller was no other than the fuck-face of the hour, Greg. With a fist clenched tightly around the broken phone, I answered.
"Greg?! Are you out of your goddamn mind?! Bring the shit back here, or I'll -", I rambled, right before being cut-off by a series of loud stammers.
"John - John! Please hear me out, okay?! Look, I didn't wanna do this, but you didn't really give me much of a choice, ya know? I gotta get me and my family outta that hellhole, and I know some motherfuckers that sell guns, so they might like this E.T shit, right? I'm sorry, man, but you gotta see the big picture. If you want, I'll split it 50/50, okay? Sorry, bro".
Just as I was about to describe the exact manner in which I would end his miserable life, he hung up on me. There aren't words that could describe the emotions that I was experiencing. Hell, the closest thing to imagining what I felt would be turning into the sun. My rage was unmatched by the most ruthless, unfeeling, cold, calculated predator in the universe. In short: if Greg was standing in front of me at the time, I would've made him see the most Christian depiction of hell, right from the comfort of my own home.
With saliva spewing from behind my clenched teeth, I grunted loudly, standing up from the sweat stained carpet. I stormed into the living room, grabbing my car keys off the computer desk, ready to find Greg and swiftly kill him, but then, some clarity entered into my insufferable life. I realized that, even if I had it in me to drive in the headspace I was in, I had no idea where Greg was going.
Granted, I knew where he was: that shitty, rundown, gang riddled, foul smelling orifice on the face of planet Earth, called 'Pleasant Meadow'. Actually, that's an alias I'm giving it, but it's close to the real ironic name that it was given. Anyway, I felt the urge to, quite literally, explode into an atomic fit of rage, but knew that I had to sit down and think.
Calming myself down, I began to think of the days that Greg and I spent in Pleasant Meadow: we would often go to the local burger joint, which would usually lead to Greg also talking to the other regulars; the local gang bangers. From there, he would brag about how he's "still on the grind", and "pushing that whip", but also usually walking away with the gang bangers, seemingly talking in private.
That memory reminded me of an old, mostly forgettable video recording that Greg and I took while at a party. It was like a lightbulb had appeared over my head as I, with bated breath, swiveled in my office chair and pulled up Greg's social media. I knew that he posted that old house party video from a few years back, and I was going to find it, even if it meant endlessly scrolling through his brain-dead, narcissistic feed.
After countless pictures of him holding up a fanned out handful of $20 bills with the hashtag 'stay hungry', I finally found the video. I clicked 'play', then watched as my old days of awkward socializing began to unfold before me. In the video, Greg had his arm around me, clearly drunk and with a dopey smile across his red face.
"I - I just wanna say that - that we the money gang, homie! John? You feeling this vibe, bruh?", Greg struggled to say, his breath nearly visible on camera.
"Come on, Greg, you're drunk. Could you stop being an annoying for one minute, at least?", I replied, looking like I'd rather be anywhere else.
"You got to be feeling this vibe, man. I feel it, Antonio feels it, and - hey! Speaking of the devil! Antonio! Mr. Man Of The House! Come and check out the motherfucking money gang!", Greg shouted, waving to someone off-screen.
"What's good, cousin? You and your boy having a good time?", a muscular, shirtless, bandana-wearing man named Antonio asked.
"We're having the time of our lives, bruh! Yo! You got that strap still? I got the money, if you got the shit", Greg spouted off, seemingly throwing all subtlety out the window.
Now that I knew of one illegal firearms transaction, I surmised that Greg would likely stay in contact with the same people, as he always does with his 'connections'. If my hunch was correct, then Greg was on his way to Antonio's house with the alien tech, and I needed to stop him.
Luckily for me, Greg doesn't think about the implications that geotagging on social media has on his privacy. Right on that post, Antonio's house address was plain as day, and all I had to do was take my chances and drive to that location.
Determined, I made my way to my car, starting it up, and hastily speeding off. The trees whizzed by as I drove a few miles over the speed limit, but I knew the area well enough to know that not many cops paroled the area. The radio played in the background, mostly excluded by my laser focus on the objective: to get back what's mine. It wasn't until I heard something that related to my predicament that I began to listen.
"Have you seen flying saucers? Have you been poked and prodded by little, green men from other galaxies? If so, then call-in and tell us your story!". I felt as though the radio was mocking me, that, in some way, the universe was playing a sick joke on me.
"Fucking hell, dude", I grumbled, about to turn down the radio, until a caller came through with their story. She sounded very serious, straight to the point, and almost rushed.
"Hey, Rick. A few nights ago, I saw this bright light in the sky. At first glance, I thought it was a star or something, then it got brighter, and brighter, 'til I could see it moving with my own two eyes!", the caller claimed, the sound of children playing in the background could be heard.
"We've been getting calls about this for a few days, ma'am. Lots of folks say they saw what you described. Uh, hey, ma'am? You sound kinda shaken. Are you doing alright?", the radio DJ asked, followed by a short length of silence.
"Rick, they're here! Don't you get that? Ain't nobody worried about this? The aliens are here, people! Wake up and see the truth! They're here, and they're gonna -". Before she could finish her sentence, I switched off the radio.
I couldn't believe that, aside from me, the police, and the military, other people had seen the ship that crashed into the woods on that fateful night. For me, this whole thing was such a personal, intimate experience, but now, I knew that many more people knew of the existence of the craft. I would be lying if I said that this news didn't make me feel a wee bit nervous. I had thoughts like, 'what if the exposure of this incident draws in more government operatives to silence the masses, then, in turn, somehow leads back to me?'.
It was one hell of a stressful drive to Pleasant Meadow, what with all the overthinking I was doing. All I could think of was Greg handing those criminals the technology, then, in turn, him blabbing all about how he got it. The criminals would then take the tech to the media, trying to obtain fame, and if my name came up, I'd be thrown into the back of a black van with a sack over my head.
My grip on the wheel tightened as my thoughts became a blur of fear. How could my friend, someone I've known for years, do this to me? He knew how paranoid I was, how scared I was of the news getting out. I love him like a brother, even though, at the time, I wanted to eviscerate him. Yes, he was desperate to escape Pleasant Meadow, but he should know better than to blow the lid on one of the biggest secrets in fucking history.
I was so caught up in my own head, I almost didn't notice a car right in front of me. Stomping on the breaks, I just barely avoided a serious fender bender. As I sat in awkward silence, waiting for the idling driver ahead to scold me, I heard a low, thumping, rhythmic bass. It was the car that I almost hit, with its radio blaring. With shifty eyes, I took in the scenery around me: I was in Pleasant Meadow.
"Still a shithole, I see", I remarked, looking at the familiar, worn down, all but destroyed buildings and roads around me.
Annoyed, I looked at the still motionless car in front of me. With great impatience swelling up inside of me, I was about to lay-in on the horn, until I noticed that I was at a stop light.
"How could I possibly forget Pleasant Meadow traffic?", I said to myself in a sarcastic, bitter tone.
As I waited for the green light, tapping my fingers on the wheel, I heard a noise that made me jump in my seat. To my relief, it was just my phone's ringer, once again. Just like last time, the man that I considered a friend was calling me, and I was hoping that he had a change of heart, about to tell me that he was returning the tech. However, I got a much different call.
"Greg? I'm in town. You better give that shit back, goddamn it", I growled, sounding like a disgruntled, single parent going through a messy divorce.
"Hey, your homeboy is talkin' some bullshit about this garbage that he tried scammin' us with", an unknown, male voice replied.
"Woah, who the fuck are you? Where's Greg?", I shot back, forgetting all about the world around me.
"None of your fucking business, bitch. Listen up: your boy fucked with the wrong team of shooters, and he's about to get his ass laid out, so you might wanna come and explain yourself, homie". My stomach was churning violently, my head was spinning, and I could feel my heart in my throat.
"Hey, man, Greg's not in his right mind, okay? Please, just let him go, and I'll pay you whatever I have, if that sweetens the deal", I stammered, trying my best to use my quick thinking to my advantage.
"Boy, you got me fucked up if you think I'm gonna let this disrespect fly. Come to our place, if you wanna see your friend without a cap in his dome". After that, the man gave me the address, before abruptly hanging up.
You know, as much as I was pissed off at Greg's blatant disregard for my wishes to keep this ordeal a secret, I still cared for him. I couldn't help but think of the times that he had my back: the time when he punched out a bully who was trying to punk me at school, the time when he was my wingman for a girl who obviously wasn't into me, and the time when he and his mom actually went through the trouble of baking my sick father a birthday cake. Yes, Greg is an ignorant dope with the stubbornness of a mule, but he's a good person on the inside.
"The light's green, asshole!", a woman shouted from behind my car.
Shaking my head and readjusting my sights on the road ahead, I began to drive to Greg's location. As I drove, I tried to ease my nerves with some radio, only to be met with the same, conspiracy laden station from before.
"And furthermore, the craft didn't have a tail, Rick. You think the whole 'meteor' story stands up to scrutiny? I have never seen the army respond to a meteor strike", a male caller argued, irritation in his voice.
Grumbling, I turned off the radio, tired of hearing what I already know. My thoughts were with my friend and what his fate would be, if I couldn't get there in time. Would he be dead by the time that I arrive? I just couldn't get the idea out of my head.
Snapping back to reality, I was pulling up to the house where Greg was being held captive. Lucky for me, the guy decided to call me, because this was not Antonio's address at all. Maybe Greg was actually finding new connections? Good for him, I guess. Cautiously, I stepped out of my car, seeing that Greg's dad's car was in the driveway.
"Yo, motherfucker!", a voice shouted from the side of me. Before I could get a good look at the person, I got a better view of the butt of a pistol, then nothing at all.
Sniffling, I began to stir from my deep, almost comatose slumber. My skull felt like it was about to crack open from the pressure inside of it, my limbs were weak, and my hands were shaky. I could feel all of that, but couldn't see a damn thing.
"He's awake!", a muffled, male voice bellowed.
"The fu - ?", I murmured, before being manhandled to my feet.
The sensation of something being yanked from my head aggravated the migraine, making me whimper like a frightened chihuahua. Suddenly, my vision was filled with a dull, yellow light. I couldn't quite make out how many people there were in front of me, given that I was seeing double, and only able to perceive the outlines of human-like figures.
"John?! They're gonna kill us, man! I don't wanna die!", I heard a familiar voice cry, followed by a loud, meaty, 'thwacking' sound that silenced the voice.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch", another voice demanded through, what sounded like gritted teeth.
"Money... I have money", I croaked out, unable to think of anything else.
Without warning, I felt a sharp, deep, aching pain radiate through my abdomen, buckling my already weak legs. Two pairs of hands held up my rag doll of a body, sloppily standing me upright. I thought I had been stabbed, until my sight began to clear up. Looking down, there was no stab wound, but looking back up, I could see a tall, jacked man with broad shoulders. He was wearing a ski mask, just like other thugs in the room, and rearing back his fist.
"Please, don't -", I pleaded through garbled speech, before being punched viciously in the stomach.
My insides were on fire. I thought I was going to lose yesterday's dinner, before taking in what breath I could, being brought back to my feet, once again.
"We don't need your goddamn money, boy! We wanna know what the fuck you two mark-ass bitches are tryna pull with this 'alien' bullshit", the large, intimidating man demanded, threatening to hit me again.
I could see Greg on the floor in front of me, bleeding from his nose, spitting more blood from between his swollen lips. He looked so pathetic, but not in an insulting way. I pitied him, and I must've looked no better, judging by how I felt.
"You gonna speak, or am I gonna have to knock some more sense into that big-ass head of yours?. Seeing Greg look the way he did, the overbearing stress of the past week, and now all of this nonsense? I was beginning to feel less weak, and more furious.
"You... You wanna know the fucking truth?", I retorted, looking that big, hairy man right in his eyes.
"I'll tell you the fucking truth then, big man. Bring me the fucking shit that Greg brought you, and I'll show you".
With all this trouble that the alien tech brought me, I was prepared to just prove that it was the real deal, and give it to them. Maybe it was the concussion, but I had a major change of heart. If giving them the alien technology meant that I could rest and that Greg and I could live, then I would gladly hand it over.
"Rod! Bring that shit out here!", the muscular man barked into the other room.
Being laid before me was the very technology that I swore to protect, fix, and keep hidden from the world. As I gazed, likely for the last time, at my once prized collection of foreign hardware, my eyes searched for the one piece of tech that could instantly prove its legitimacy; the chrome ball. Pouting my dry lips, I took a large gulp of congealed blood and saliva, still looking for that magical, levitating sphere.
"Wait... Where is it?", I muttered, my eyes darting side-to-side, desperately trying to find the dense, metal ball.
"I'm losin' patience, bitch", the huge, ripped man told me.
Looking over to Greg with wide eyes, a panicked expression on my face, and snot dribbling from my nose, I slowly opened my mouth.
"Greg? Where - where is it? The floating ball? Remember?".
Greg lifted his head, tears still dripping from the tip of his crooked nose.
"I don't know, man. That's what I was trying to tell them, but they wouldn't listen, man. They just started beating me when I couldn't find it.", Greg sobbed, lowering his head back to the floor.
"The fuck, Greg? Don't you have a gun?", I replied.
"I couldn't do it, man. I couldn't fucking pull the trigger".
Out of nowhere, a sharp, loud, clacking noise sounded off. In front of me, the big, tattooed man was holding a pistol, pointing it at my head. It's weird: when you have a gun aimed at your skull, you don't see much else around you, except for the barrel.
"You motherfuckers are gettin' on my last nerve! I'm not playin' these games no more! Prove this shit's real, and I won't blow your ass right to the lord's kingdom!".
My mind raced for solutions, and it wasn't until I looked down at the alien computer that I thought of something.
"Okay - okay! Look, bring me that computer, please!", I begged, the sweat from my brow stinging my open wounds.
With the gun still aimed at my head, the large man swept the computer over to me with his foot.
"That bitch-made motherfucker already showed us this shit".
"Well, I know how to use it", I replied.
"Let go of my arms, and I can show you that this is real, okay? If I try to run or fight, you can shoot me and Greg right in the fucking face". Upon finishing that sentence, Greg looked up at me with an even more terrified expression, but it worked.
The big man nodded to his buddies, allowing them to let me go. With slow, deliberate movements, I carefully sat down on the floor, booting up the computer. Sure, the computer usually took a bit to start, but when you know a gun is trained on you, ready to fire at any time, the damn thing feels like it takes an eternity to start-up.
Finally, the alien computer booted up the menu. Trying to focus as hard as I could, I navigated to the most interesting screen of the computer: the thing that I like to call, 'The Universal Map'. Just like last time, I could see the square plane, the countless circles, and the hundreds, if not thousands, of square icons drifting about.
"Ha ha! Now, that's some shit we didn't get to see!", the huge man exclaimed, lightening the atmosphere of the room, but only a little.
Now, you may be asking yourself, 'what is your plan to prove to them that this is real, beyond a cool looking display?'. Well, my plan was simple: select one of those triangular icons, then, unlike in my last update, actually choose that mysterious, indecipherable option. I was basically banking mine and Greg's life on this option doing something remarkable. Taking a deep breath, I did just that, and was returned to the standard map view.
My nervous grin was gradually turning into a worried, panicked frown. I waited for something, anything to happen, but nothing. The atmosphere of the room was reverting back to a deathly serious mood. I thought that my vision was going to switch to pure blackness, due to a bullet ripping through my brain, but something did, in fact, happen on the screen.
A rapid, repetitive, dull beeping sound began coming from the computer, followed by the triangle that I selected zooming out of view. The big man, along with his crew, leaned in to look at the screen, but then, the display turned off. Without making too many sudden movements, I pressed the power button multiple times, praying that it would just turn back on, but it didn't.
Not wanting to accept defeat, I kept at it, but was dragged from the computer by two, strong men. I was forced onto my knees, staring up in sheer terror, only seeing the barrel of a gun. The big man was saying something, but I couldn't register what it was. I could hear Greg weeping loudly, so they must've been doing the same to him. I thought for sure that our lives were over, and I had even began to accept it.
With no 'bang', no muzzle flash, my vision was engulfed by pitch blackness. For a second, I thought I was dead, until the lights came back on. The thugs looked at each other with confused faces, almost shrugging it off as a minor power outage, but then, there was this high-pitched, deafening noise that enveloped the whole room. By the look on their faces, I could tell that the thugs were screaming from the noise and confusion, but I couldn't hear anything, except for the shrill sound.
The lights began to flicker rapidly, I could see a cell phone on a chair start to turn on, before instantly shutting back off, and the ceiling fan above was spinning so fast, it was rocking itself out of the ceiling. I couldn't understand what was happening, and, to be honest, I was too numb to react. I just sat there, sluggishly looking around the room as the thugs and Greg panicked.
Everyone was scattering all around the room, but were stopped in their tracks by a light rumbling. The light rumble graduated to a deep, heavy shaking of the whole house. The ceiling fan came crashing down onto one of the thugs, followed by cracks forming around the walls near the ceiling. For some reason, my self preservation instincts finally kicked in, causing me to spring into action.
It was hard to stand up straight, or even walk, but I had to get out of there somehow. Maybe it was the constant ringing in my ears that was throwing off my equilibrium, the house's tremors, the injuries I sustained, or even all of the above, but I kept falling over. Greg had curled up in the corner, covering his head with his hands, and I tried to make my way over to him, but my legs were fighting against me.
No matter how loud I screamed, no matter how much I tried to get his attention, Greg couldn't hear me. Pulling myself up from the floor, using a chair, I noticed the alien tech, and knew that I had to get it out of there. When I knew that the thugs were no longer a threat, I felt that old sense of determination surge throughout my body. With what little strength I could muster, I grabbed all of the tech, tossing it back into the bin.
Carrying the bin with sore arms and wobbly legs, I staggered over to Greg. I kept tapping him on the head to get his attention, but he wouldn't respond. Greg just stayed in the fetal position, quivering like a small, horrified child. Without warning, the room was drenched in the most intense, most blinding light that I have ever witnessed. I didn't think, I just ran as best as I could. With my vision heavily impaired, I was bumping into things that I could barely see, causing me to stumble and almost fall over again.
As the light became less intrusive, I knew that I was almost out of the way of whatever was coming for us. Eventually, I burst out of the front door, clearing the stairs in a single bound. I ran as far away as I could from that house, until My legs finally gave out completely. Still in a panic, I flipped over on my back, and that's when I saw the most amazing, but horror-inducing thing that I've ever seen in my whole life.
The house no longer had a roof, and above it, there was a large, round, bright object hovering. My hearing was returned to me, so I had to endure the blood-curdling screams from those who were still inside the house. The levitating object made no sound at all, and was seemingly producing a dense beam of light from, what I assume, was the bottom of it. My eyes were unblinking as I witnessed the silhouettes of people being dragged up into the object by the light.
I was in awe: unable to move, and unable to truly think. As the last silhouette was sucked into the object, the screams finally ceased, and in an instant, the object shot up 90 degrees, and vanished without a trace into the night sky. I was left without any sense of self for about a minute, until I snapped back to reality, clumsily scurrying back on my feet. I didn't have time to ponder about what I just witnessed, so I grabbed the bin of tech, then sprinted to my car with my exhausted, aching legs.
Much of that drive was a blur in my memory, but I do recall the feeling of dread rearing its ugly head, and that's about it. Next thing I know, I'm back home, unloading the bin from the backseat, and walking to my front door. It was like I was on autopilot, even when I let my body hit the bed, almost breaking the springs in the mattress. That night, I didn't remember my dreams, feeling worried, sad, angry, or anything, really. No, all I could remember, after I lied on that bed, was a tingling throughout my extremities.
The next morning, I woke up with a gasp, sitting straight up, almost as if I was having nightmares. If I was, I don't remember them. I could feel sweat pouring down my forehead, and it had also stained my sheets. It was then that I began to feel the affects from last night. As I sat in my soaked bed, I began to cry uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry, Greg! God!", I shrieked, throwing the covers off of me in hysterics.
My sobbing carried on for awhile, as all of the emotions that I couldn't feel before started flooding my very being. Hyperventilating, I got out of bed, careful not to topple once more, and walked into my living room. Still wearing my dirty, moist, sticky clothes from yesterday, I began to lazily strip them off right then and there. I don't know what was wrong with me, but everything felt off. It was so strange, seeing myself do these impulsive things, but not being able to, or not caring enough to stop it.
Well, there I was, naked in my living room, staring out my window. It was a sunny, windy, beautiful day, but in my world, it was storming wildly. I was present, yet, blank on the inside. The sun filled my retinas with its warm glow, but it had no affect on me. No, the only thing that made me react was seeing a very bright, very still, very round object in my front yard.
As slow and stiff as a living corpse, I walked outside to see what it was, but deep down, I knew what it was. Lo and behold: the chrome ball was there, floating in the sun. That thing always reminded me of the crashed spacecraft that I plundered, but now, it made me want to wince, or even recoil at the sight of it. Like nothing could catch my interest anymore, I raised my hand behind it, casually guiding it through the opened front door.
Putting the chrome ball back in the bin, I thought of how, in my panic, I chose the technology over a friend of mine. He was petrified, feeling the most terror that he had ever experienced in his life, and I ran off with this fucking bin of curses. The void that inhabited my soul was replaced by a raging fire of self-hatred.
"Fuck!", I screamed, punching a hole in the wall.
That fire inside of me was burning a hole through my ego, letting me see who the real me was. What I saw was a coward, a cheat, a liar, and an unreliable pile of trash. Just then, I thought of taking the bin, setting it ablaze, and never having to look at it again, but that rage, that need for retribution, it gave me an idea.
I thought of the possibility that, no matter how unlikely, I could use their equipment against them. What if I could weaponize these high-tech pieces of hardware to get back at the fuckers who took my friend away? Hell, maybe I could even save him from the craft, if he's not already dead. With that new mindset in place, I made plans to get back to work.
Alright, Reddit, that's all I can say for now. Stay tuned for more updates, because, in the span of being gone for 6 months, a lot more has happened in my life. Until then, please, just stay safe. It's a nasty world of unknown dangers, and I should know that better than anyone else. Goodnight.