Editorâ€™s Note: â€œCracks in the Cloudsâ€ is a piece of creative non-fiction. All of the events in the story are true. This is the eighth part of a nine-part series that will run weekly in the Collegianâ€™s Verve section.
â€œThey came back. They came back Sunday,â€ Joan said.
Mary looked behind her nervously as though what Joan was about to say would change the world. Mary searched the landscape to see that no one would hear. Not the Indians with their drums or laughing neighbors could hear what was about to be said.
â€œThey came into our house. Something came out of the lights. We were asleep. We had been sleeping for what felt like hours.
All the lights in the house except for the porch lights were off. JohnLuke slept at the foot of our bed as usual. I woke up late to use the restroom, and when I went to lift myself out of the bed our bedroom lit up. Lights showed through our three windows like a spotlight. Mary looked at me in shock; she grabbed me by the waist in fear. I had nothing I could do. I waited for the lights to leave, or something. I just waited. We stared at the lights for several minutes when we heard footsteps coming up the stairs. JohnLuke started barking at the door wildly.â€
â€œHe was ferocious looking,â€ Mary said, interrupting.
â€œYes. His teeth were showing. Snarling. He looked like a dog out of Stephen Kingâ€™s books, he was so mad. When they opened the door they were naked. They walked to each side of our bed. JohnLuke instantly turned quiet when they came in. He lay on his back showing his belly. He wanted these things to pet him!â€ Joan said.
She put her hand to her chest as though she was controlling her heart. Her racing, scared heart. Her heart that had seen far too much in Kremers Hills. Her heart that no one would believe. Her heart that only Mary could have.
She stood up and wandered to the corner of the garden closest to me. She used the fence as a rail to help her scared toes and her scared feet find a way closer to me. I stood up and came close to her.
I stood opposite the white picket fence. Its chipped paint crumbled with my attention.
I believed them.
My father had taught me and helped me form my own opinions on encounters like these. He taught me that President Truman in 1952 established a group of 12 scientific military personnel to desensitize the public and suppress the evidence that our planet was being visited by extraterrestrials called the grays.Â
He taught me that they walked like us. That they started out as creatures of the sea until they evolved into mammals and roamed the earth.
â€œThey donâ€™t look like they do in the â€˜Close Encounterâ€™ or like â€˜E.T.â€™ They arenâ€™t slimy. They arenâ€™t bug eyed, completely. But they do almost look grey. They looked like humans that mutated into fish, just without the gills. They stand like us. They walk like us. But their eyes have no direction. Their eyes stare at everything. There were three of them. Two came to Maryâ€™s side of the bed and one to mine.â€
Staff writer Lucas Dean FiÅ¡er can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.