The Lunar landing was not faked.
I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you. I don’t expect that you’ll believe me. So, I’ll just come out and say it. I have been abducted by aliens. And I remember everything about it.
It happened the night before I was born. It was the middle of the night. My mother woke up worried. It was raining outside, and she was more than 9 months pregnant. There was an unnatural pain that stemmed from her womb and shot out though the whole of her.
She tried to wake my father, but he was passed out on the living room floor. He’d long ago been introduced to heroine and it kept him on a cruel and humiliating leash. The pain my mother felt sent her into shock. She stumbled next door, barefoot and soaking wet, wearing my father’s favorite t-shirt. It was the shirt he liked to wear to work on Fridays. It was late Sunday night. Her older brother lived in the adjacent apartment with his wife. My mother asked him to drive her to the hospital. They had to step over my father to get her things. My mother’s brother was an adventurist of sorts. He had motorcycles. Surfboards. A large knife collection. And a “Willie” style Jeep. Not long after that night, he would be killed in that Jeep on a desert excursion.
The Jeep didn’t have a top or side windows. And when they backed it out of the carport, one of the rear tires had a flat. He had to change it in the dark and the rain. My father was still asleep on the floor. They drove full-speed. My mother couldn’t even cry, her pain was so intense. They hobbled into the emergency room. Blood and rain ran down her legs. Young men and women dressed in white met them in the lobby and laid her on a bed with wheels and rushed her behind heavy swinging doors. At that point, all went quiet for her. She couldn’t hear the people above her, shouting down into her face. The rolling bed was slammed into a large elevator with automatic doors on either side of it. Inside of the elevator, the walls were painted a pale pea-green. My mother began to scream.
She was certain that she would die that night. There is an unquestionable truth that only death can speak. And she’d heard its whisper between her short breaths. She tried to swallow, but could not. All she could think about was that she never intended to get pregnant. And when it happened she’d planned on ridding herself of the burden. When the time came, she couldn’t go through with it. In that elevator, she prayed that it wasn’t a careless decision that would end up killing her.
Between floors, as the elevator cabled upward, blood poured from her. It soaked the bed sheets and she could feel it thick and squishing in her hands, at her sides. And that’s when it happened. Whatever I was destined to be, I became.
There was an immense light.
Everything that ever was and everything that ever will be, filled my eyes, my heart, my mind and my soul. My flesh was still in my mothers’ belly. The elevator climbed. But I was above the entire scene. I hovered over my mother and the young doctors and nurses that were trying to save the lives of the both of us. I saw the blood and fear. The fear was with them all. From up above, I could see into who my mother was. I saw every moment of her life until then. And I saw her last day too. I could see what and where the others would face too, those doctors and nurses.
Floating up there with me were other people. Strangers. They all had one hand touching the walls of the elevator and the other hand, reaching out, touching an illuminated creature. It was an other worlds visitor, and we were circled around it. This creature was feeding us. We were being filled with inconceivable insights into every tiny corner of the Universe. All of us floating above my dying mother and my dying self, we looked into each of our eyes. There we saw every star being born, and inevitably, fading out. We saw gods being born. We saw the Earth crumple in space like an old, empty pack of cigarettes and disintegrate into dust.
Then, the alien began to remove each of our hands from its being. My hand was the last. With every other person there, they just disappeared. Before the alien pulled my hand from itself, it took my hand to its mouth and with large and flat teeth, like that of a hoven animal, it bit off my thumb with a clean snap. And I was returned to my mother’s whom.
She was in the delivery room. I felt a great loss from being separated from the others, and even more so, being separated from the alien. I was incredibly uncomfortable. Everything felt so stifling. I was filled with regret and anger even before my first breath. But that breath came, and then, I was the one screaming.
Nothing would ever be normal for me. I’d already been elsewhere and everywhere. Very few would know, or admit to knowing, what I know. And I would forever be scratching at the walls, looking for and listening for, that truest of whispers of a way out.