I spent two years in a difficult relationship that finally went bust.
Eva and I warred—we never could get our relationship right. I suppose the reason was the colors of our souls. Everything I did got in the way—we constantly clashed.
She was the Princess with the glass slipper and I was the Ogre she had to love.
When she met Graham Thomas, my lawyer, it was the end of us. She gave me the pink slip of dismissal—a note on a phone message pad—I’m out of here, was all it said.
I ran away to the Forida Gulf to hide myself, but eventually came home penniless to resume my post—eking out a living at what I did best—digging dirt as an archeologist.
Paul Graves from Harvard sent me on a dig—not to some exotic locale, but of all places, to upstate New York—to the Hudson River Valley.
“I want you to investigate a number of stone chambers found there that are astronomically aligned,” he told me.
I arched an eyebrow. He ignored it. “The doors of these chambers face the winter solstice sunrise—there are other features in the area such as Cairns and there are several hotspots of elevated electromagnetic fields.”
What possible significance could there be to heightened electromagnetic fields? I mused inwardly, but dutifully complied.
So, that’s essentially how I ended up in the wilderness, sulking and sullen, but evading the downside of my painfully embarrassing love life.
I was definitely not in a New York state of mind as I grumpily gathered wood for a fire, trying to console myself by looking forward to a peaceful night of sitting out beneath the stars.
As it turned out, J had no idea how naïve that line of thinking was, but I was determined to make the best of a bad situation.
But of course, staring into a bright fire only reminded me of Eva and romantic mights spent with her camping out in provincial parks.
I now imagined her staring into the flames with Graham, my replacement, and realizing how bitter it was to look into happiness through another man’s eyes.
It was after midnight, when the logs had turned to white bones on a bed of embers, when I first noticed it—a white orb with hexagonal facets low in the sky.
I thought at first it was Sirius distorted by clouds, right below Orion, but then it moved. It disappeared and then reappeared above the cairns.
When the orb disappeared again, I thought it was gone until I saw a blue haze in the woods—it was spinning rapidly about two hundred yards from me.
I crept a closer to get a better look and as I approached I saw a white, faceted orb about twenty feet high and thirty feet wide, hovering a few feet off the ground.
A port was open, revealing a dark bay within, but other than that, the craft was featureless.
I was about to creep even closer when I saw them—three of them off to my right, standing and observing me.
They were humanoid, but fantastic creatures—the stockier male entities were gray skinned, but the female’s skin had a pink hue. The males had no discernible hair, but the female’s hair was long—it was a luxuriant, bluish-black silk.
She spoke to me—I felt impulses buzzing in my ears—but her mouth didn’t open. Whenever she turned her gaze upon me, I could feel a beam of energy directed at me.
As she spoke, a vibration pulsed through my ears, but no words or thoughts were communicated.
She approached, but I was frozen in place, unable to do anything, but stare at her. She was lovely, in an ethereal way—as alien to me as an angel, but not horrific. Attractive.
She tentatively reached out and touched my arm. A wave of warmth passed through me—I felt compassion and tenderness—I thought she saw me as a child.
I was totally drawn to her—surrendered to her will—she was warm-hearted and sympathetic.
The male entities took all my gear—my eyes telegraphed distress to her.
There were thousands of dollars of expensive equipment being taken—none of it, mine.
She gazed at me with understanding. She whispered and several mixed emotions passed through me—I couldn’t identify them except to say they were analogous to tone and color.
The best way I can describe what I felt is to say, her whisper wiped colors and hues from my mind and left a range of tones based on black and gray.
I felt the music of her and her dark language—beyond that, words fail to express the plaintive cry of my soul as it rose to meet hers, or the painful melancholy she wrung out of me, twisting pity and sadness into a strand binding us together forever.
I recall the craft leaving—ascending gracefully into the stars and then, melting into the void.
As soon as it disappeared, I was released, but unspeakably touched and deeply wounded. I couldn’t explain the terrible melancholy I felt, or the searing pain scarring me every time I pictured her in my head.
It took me days to recover enough to be able to leave and make a report to the State police. I had to explain the loss of equipment—gear, I could not afford to replace.
The officers accompanied me to a hospital, where I was formed and admitted for observation. I was diagnosed as having sub threshold PTSD and was treated with anti-depressants.
Since that time, I’m in a state of confusion about my encounter.
It’s embarrassing to speak about a pink alien but also heart wrenching to cope with feelings of abandonment and the desperate need to have her back.
