Stranger than the outer

It was 3am. The night was deathly still. A few clouds over head. Some stars fighting their way past the light pollution twinkled in defiance. It was that kind of quiet you could hear a pin drop down the block. She smoked her cigarette sitting on the car parking cement marker in the gravel parking lot behind her apartment building. She watched absolutely nothing happening. No cars driving by, no noises in the distance of people getting in their cars to go somewhere. Not even any neighbor lights were on. She had smoked out here at three in the morning countless times, but tonight felt eerily quiet. Like something bad was about to happen. She didn’t always have this feeling. Usually she felt safe in her neighborhood even though the cops had warned her before that it wasn’t safe around here.

Most nights she felt calm reassurance while smoking and looking up at the stars. She’d silently pray to God and talk about what was on her mind. Or sometimes she tried to still her mind’s incessant chatter. She had seen some pretty interesting things sitting on that cement marker. Rabbits playing by the trashcans. Skunks running past her at full speed. People walking by pretending not to notice her. She’d even seen some sort of plane fly over that was so dark she could barely make it out against the darkness of the sky. It was completely silent and seemed to glide by so close it felt like she could reach out and touch it. It was the strangest thing she’d seen at that hour. She had to call it a UFO only because there was nothing else to call it. It did not have a head light or navigation lights, just three red lights on the bottom in the formation of a triangle.

That wasn’t the first unidentified object seen over her area either. One hovered over her town long enough to get video coverage and make national news. On another day, her daughter and her were walking home and saw two planes heading toward a collision point with each other. One of the planes was strangely shaped with short wings and a long body. They disappeared over the rooftops. They walked to the other side of their apartment building, which only took a few moments, but by the time they got to the other side both planes were gone. Her daughter ran out to the street still looking for them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

This definitely wasn’t a normal area to live in, but so far things had been safe. The cops practically live on her block though. She would be good friends with them by now if she didn’t isolate into her home so much.

She shrugged off the bad feelings, snubbed out her cigarette and went in. Her apartment didn’t feel much better. There had been even stranger things going on inside the walls then outside of them. Something her and her daughter had to live with constantly. Nothing they tried had worked. Not permanently anyway.


Accidental Anomaly

Short story fiction, excerpt.

I don’t think anyone is normal, but there are a lot of people following the social norms, whether they work or not. So I’m the type that comes along and puts hiccups in their world that they don’t particularly like-and its different for each person. Everyone tells me this won’t happen with them, but it always does because I’m an anomaly not following these patterns in socialization. Its hard to explain.
I know I sound like I have low self-confidence about how normal I am, but I assure you, after the life I’ve lived, I know myself all too well. And even complete strangers know I’m different.

A lot of men, find this particularly attractive about me, and I often hear “I’ve never met anyone like you.” I also hear, “I feel so connected to you, and we’ve made such fast friends.” I cringe when I hear that now. Not because I don’t appreciate the compliment, but because I know they are only seeing an aspect of me that fits into a fantasy or else smoothing me over for sex. They aren’t seeing the whole picture, and so at the beginning of meeting, things seem a lot different than they will later. That is dangerous ground and starts to feel like hearts are being played with, which I don’t do. I always get blamed for this anyway though. So now I’m not doing that anymore.

Because of who I am, it is not possible for me to make friends and date people the same way everyone else does. So I am making up my own rules, not to be a dictator but to keep myself safe, but also to keep the other person from feeling like I’m doing things to hurt them. I never was, but now I will know that I am not because I’m taking preventative steps and thinking things through. After that, its up to them. I can only lead the experience to a certain point and from my perspective before the other person has to do their part and with their perspective and let that unfold as it may.

All I know for sure is, figuratively speaking, I’m living between a lot of worlds. I’m not willing to rush out anymore and get run over on the highway of life or love, now that I’m realizing how many “worlds” there are, and many of them are crashing together.