UFO on Our Street : A Micro-Story

 The thing hung in the air over the houses across the street. We had already gone inside out of fear.

It was cigar shaped, with a strange glow. It was probably as big as two houses put together. “Jim, call 911,” said my wife. “What are they going to do?” I said. “And besides, what will I say? That there is a UFO hovering above our street?” “Well, we’ve got to do something,” she said.

So we waited and watched. The thing just sat there. Hovering. Then, all of a sudden, a wide beam was cast down upon the Smith’s house. We could then see the Smiths floating upward within the beam to the object. “Honey, They got the Smiths!” she said. “Well, there isn’t much we can do,” said I.

Finally, the police and fire department arrived on the scene. There wasn’t much they could do except block off the area. “We’re going to have to call in the Feds on this one,” said Police Chief O’Brian. Within an hour, Federal Agents arrived. “This is just like the one on Elm Street last year,” one of the agents said.

Then, another beam, wide like the beam that had got the Smiths, shined down on the Emerson’s house. The only thing floating up through that beam was the Emerson’s dog. “Well at least they didn’t take the Emersons,” my wife said.

There was a knock on the door. “Federal agents. We’re evacuating this entire block.” “Only the block?” my wife said to me. The agents came in. They told us to take only what we’d need for one night. “This is classified,” they said. “You are to speak of it with no one.”

We were hurried into a black van and taken to a motel a few miles away. We could still barely make out the cigar shaped object from our motel. “I wonder what happens to us if we talk about this with people?” my wife said. “We better not!” I exclaimed.

As the night went on, neither of us could sleep. After all what will become of the Smiths? What will become of the Emersons’ dog? And more to the point, what will become of us? Will the government agents just let us return to our old life? This seemed unlikely.

Morning came after a sleepless night. We were up with the dawn. Two agents remained at our hotel. I suppose they were our handlers. There was a knock on the motel room door. It was the agents. “You can come with us,” one said. We were hurried into the black van once again. This time there was another agent in the back with us. “You understand that as far as your concerned, last night didn’t happen.” “We understand that all too well.” He then explained that we would be taken home, but we were to never mention this again.

When we got home, everything was as we left it. The agents left. The cigar shaped thing was gone. We never saw the Smiths or the Emersons’ dog again.