Wednesday, 19 October 2011

47) Barry and John

    Barry and John laid prone in the dry midnight grasses out on the edge of the desert. This was supposed to be the highest concentration of UFO sightings this side of the New Rio Grand.
    “Pst, hand me the goggles.” Barry said, poking his partner in the ribs.
    “Ssh, wait your turn.” John shooed Barry away.
    “It is my turn… Ugh. Fine. You can make the damn coffee next time.” Barry said, hurt.
    “Here, if you’re going to be a bitch about it.” John handed him the night vision goggles, their ghostly green internal monitors illuminated his face for a moment.
    “I’m not being a bitch, you’ve had them for the last fifteen minutes. And thank you dear.”
    “You’re welcome… bitch.” John said with a sneer.
    “… You know I love you, right?” Barry pleaded, genuinely hurt.
    “You know I was kidding, right?”
    “I guess, still hurt my feelings.”
    “Oh shit, look over there!”
    “No. Way!”
    “Oh my god, is that it? Is that a ship?”
    In a blink of an eye it was over them, a chaos of lights and darkness. A deep bass thrummed through both of their bodies and rattled the pebbles on the ground. After a moment of fear and shock they got up from the dusty ground and shaded their eyes from the bright lights.
    “Which one is it?” John said.
    “I, I, I don’t know.” Barry who usually prided himself on ship watching stumbled. His brain froze.
    A search light burst from the ship and scanned the ground and found them. Simultaneously they latched on to each other.
    “Should we run, John?”
    “I don’t think there’d be any point.”
    The search light split into a dozen vertical layers like a cake, the colors cycled faster and faster.
    “I love you Barry.”
    “I love you too.”
    They hugged harder. The light stopped its frantic cycling split into two and they were wrenched apart. They tried to scream but the breath was sucked from their mouths and they passed out.

    Barry came to, “Oh man, what a shitty dream.” He rolled over and that shitty feeling continued. Something was drastically wrong. He didn’t remember falling asleep in the desert, that would have explained the scratchy stuff he felt under his hand when he was expecting soft sheets or the couch if they hadn’t gotten that far. “John!” He yelled before he opened his eyes.
    When he did open his eyes he wished he hadn’t. He was in a hut made of mud and straw. His bed was made of straw too, scratchy and dry.
    “John!” He yelled again, louder and more desperate.
    He heard his lover’s cry from far away. He got out of bed and couldn’t help but notice the difference. He was black. He was wearing a loin cloth and a roughly hewn brass key hung from his neck. Though John continued to scream for him he stopped and pulled and rubbed at his skin. Yup, it was real. He wondered idly if John had turned into another black man or maybe he was a small Asian woman. He shook his head and ran out the door of the hut.

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