Visitor of Oblivion

Section 1: The Touch of Darkness

Walking outside and looking into the bright sunny sky with barely any clouds can blind someone when they stare directly up at it. I walk, sighing at my lot in life. The sidewalks are clean, and the birds are chirping. By many accounts, it’s a beautiful day. Couples walk past me, waving or smiling or just saying polite greetings. Yet, I walk alone. I walk in the opposite direction of these many happy couples of mixed orientation and ethnic make-up. My smile diminishes with each interaction. Each drop of their happiness is a ton of annoyance. My own happiness sunk by the torpedo of tribulation.

When I am finally alone, or as alone as one would be at a public park, the only one heading in one direction, with no one coming in my direction, I begin to think dark thoughts. I sink into the dark abyss of misery. The mire of somber thought pulls me under. I wonder what a world without me would look like—hoping for the ease of death. Ease away from the gloomy skies of existence. I wonder if I ended it all, would it mean anything? How many prayers would it take for my life to change? How many wishes would it take for my life to change?

My phone buzzes. I open the text message—another rejection. I guess I’m not relationship material. I check my email— and another job application declined. Guess it doesn’t matter how much I try. Is there God, is there timing? Fighting with God is futile because the chasm between God and man is so great no matter how much you cry out, beg, or wish for things to change…God sits on a throne, and you are merely a peon beneath—your sacrifice…rags of filthiness before him. The heavenly imperator and me, the finite piss ant, thinks it could trust such a grand being.

The clouds of dark feelings begin to cover my demeanor, and I look up at the sky, almost with a farfetched feeling of intuition. The collective joy of the summer breeze and clear sky is overwhelmed by the immediate arrival of large, black, sleek ships. The clear southeastern sky becomes littered with large black tentacled ships. Crackles litter the silence, ripping the solace of the day from the inhabitants below. The moment of quiet, serene summer calmness is broken by a large fleet of unknown objects intruding into the atmosphere. Like a dry heat wave draws the collective moister out, a collective panic monsoon suffocates the masses. 

Section 2: The Touch of Darkness

The more people see the spotted shadows, the more a typhoon of fear washes over. I stare up at the encroaching ships. They almost look like they are moving towards me. I delay my runaway from the fast-approaching ships, hoping I am the first casualty of an alien invasion. I am held in place by the dark curiosity of what is coming. Like a haunting voice in the middle of the day, the ferocious shapes of ships that defy gravity's pull my eyes to squint up and the terrestrial threat.

I see a few new-generation fighter jets zoom in and take shots at the ships. They are useless, the forcefield exposes itself once missiles and bullets impact it. When the sound of crashing buildings and people screaming pulls me out of my morbid daydream, my survival instinct kicks in like a bad addiction, and I look for a place to run in the rushing torrent of human chaos. Like a breeching dam, people burst in every direction.

In the torrent of chaos, I find a crowd of people going into an underground municipal tunnel. The largest ship of the horrid space fleet moves closer to my position with ease, barely affected by the projectiles shot at it. It sinks in the air like a predator, certain of the meal it's about to devour. We squeeze down in the tunnel, which only has a few hundred square feet of space. We close and lock the door.

Though we are locked in, our hope of being overlooked rises, culminating in us being silently fearful. After the door has been closed for some time, the sound of carnage dissipates into the distance. The group begins to breathe again. Many hope for the best, while others are still frozen in horror. I try to gather my wits and wonder if this is my moment of realization. The moment I try to hang on to life rather than want to extinguish it. As soon as I pull out my phone to check on the world, there is a loud knock on the industrialized constructed door. Causing a collective gasp and whining. If they didn’t know we were here, they did now. After the next two knocks, the door is ripped off the hinges, and our invaders are revealed.

Large figures in sleek mechanical black suits walk towards us with weapons of different varieties. Their faces and heads are covered in sleek, opaque blackness. Some figures have six limbs, others are nearly complete humanoids, while others are larger than humans and have frames that mirror insects rather than mammals. In the non-uniformity of anatomy, there was uniformity of garbled chatter, symbols, and suits. They look at us, then direct us out with points and grabbled shouts. I follow the group out of the hole underneath the park. We see the fullness of the invasion happening.

The battle for the park was over, but the battle for the city just began. The ship that was over a mile overhead when we went underground has now landed, releasing armies of non-uniform uniformity.

Skyscrapers are ravaged. The scars of a superior technological species conquering another one are now a reality instead of a movie, and is a truly painful site. The feeling of powerlessness washes over all of us. A dark chorus of karma sings to our hearts while feats of human civilization are shattered houses of cards. We look at the many lasers and missiles launched from the ships, hitting different spaces but always exploding our grip on reality. Wishing death on myself is one thing. Wishing death on my species is another. Seeing planes shot down and tanks combust like scale models is a nightmare made into reality.

We are moved to a specific opening in the grass. I look up and see a supersonic bomber lasered out of the sky. The ship in front of us, with its black and sharp edges, opens a ramp at the bottom, releasing a humanoid figure walking down with an entourage of advisors.

The closer I look at him, the more my vision blurs. I almost black out, but I am slapped by one of the four hands of the soldier in front of me who wants me to show respect to his leader. The leader looks around, neither impressed nor upset. He continues towards each smaller group of humans, killing some with his bare hands and leaving others alive.

When he gets to our group, he looks around the group of ten people. He stares at each person, then gets to me. When he looks into my eyes with his cloaked face in a dark obsidian helmet pauses, and his dark eye covering investigates my face. His six-limbed advisor garbles a command to me. I don’t move, not understanding what it is saying. It hits me to stand up so he can look at me. The leader reaches up with his metallic gloves and touches my face, the mixture of wet and dried blood almost making me vomit. Seeing him turn live people into chunks makes me queasy and fearful. He moves my face back and forth. He garbles something in an unknown language, and they push me forward to another opening in the park.

They force me to a secluded location with the leader. He gives them a garbled order, and they drop me before him. When they leave, he helps me up. I look at him, beaming with confusion and fear. He reaches up with his gloves that have talons and takes his helmet off. When the helmet of dark oblivion lifts, I begin to see something. I see something not fully grasped by comprehension. My eyes look, My heart turns pale, and my mind tries to understand the theoretical universal geometry of the situation. My eyes stare at a sight more horrific than the invasion itself….his…face.