As I sit here in the dark, writing this in the light of a lantern, shades drawn, and door triple latched, I find it difficult to believe that my life has not always been like this. Once I lived an almost normal life, with a house, a social security card and similar trivialities. Electricity! Ahh, what a luxury! I have been without it ever since the electric company disconnected me because I ran the alien meter "man" off when when I caught him trying to plant a bug on my house. I used to have money, security, and a scheduled life. Now, nothing is certain but a nomadic future and probable quick end. My bag is constantly kept packed, and the truck is always ready. Such is the cost of living in defiance to the alien power structure. My one hope is that by allowing this testimony to be published on the internet I can alert others to the grave danger to our planet, and together, we can reclaim Earth for our own.
It was early spring, and I was driving my truck to town in a rainstorm when I saw a man lying in the middle of the road. Slamming on the brakes, I jumped out of the truck and ran over to him. Checking him quickly for injuries, I realized that he had none, but was instead in shock. Delirious with fear, he clutched my sleeve and pleaded "Save me!". Then, obviously crazed with stress, he began talking nonsensically about vegetables. Fearful he would be hit by oncoming traffic, I effortlessly picked him up and moved him to the side of the road. Suddenly, I saw him stiffen with horror and point to the wheat field beside the road. Scanning it intently, I saw an eerie green glow among the stalks. I checked the camera hanging about my neck, and moved closer to investigate. Immediately the man, who I will refer to as Witness R, jumped up and ran into the field. Suddenly, a sonic boom split the air, and a hard wind blasted across the field, and I saw something moving in the sky! As the wind ceased, a sinister silence covered the field, and I plainly saw a disk-shaped gray craft hovering in the sky. As Witness R shielded his eyes and pointed at the craft, I quickly raised my camera and snapped the photo. An instant later it disappeared with incredible speed to the west.
Then I noticed that the green glow had not disappeared, but was instead coming from a point ten yards ahead of us. Quickly, I ran up to it, and held up a bizarre glowing rutabaga for Witness R to see. Since he claimed it as his own, I shrugged my shoulders and gave it to him- gladly, because I suspected it was highly radioactive. Disregarding my warnings about the glowing vegetable, he wanted me to photograph it, but, unfortunately, my camera was already out of film. We talked and agreed to meet the next night at my house. In a high state of excitement, I drove home and ran into my basement darkroom.
I developed the roll of film, and began to print photos from the negative. Working all night, I made fifty large prints. I enclosed each one in an envelope with a summary of the events of the sighting, and addressed the envelopes to every major news network and newspaper in America. By now it was the afternoon of the next day. Jumping in my truck, I drove to the grim Post Office. I gave the envelopes to the employee for weighing and stamping, and I noticed that he peered oddly at all the addresses. After stamping them, he assured me they would be immediately sent. He then put a "line closed" sign on the window, and, strangely, instead of putting them in the pile with the other mail, he carried them to the manager's office! Watching suspiciously, I could hear the manager raise his voice in anger. Suddenly, the door opened and the employee returned to the window, without my letters and he avoided my eyes. My mind in turmoil, I drove home. It was getting dark.
Once in my basement darkroom, I was beginning to prepare to make more prints when the doorbell rang. Nervously, I peered out the grimy window set high in the wall, and I could see a large black Cadillac with jet black windows and French plates in the driveway. The bell rang again. Thinking quickly, I inserted the photo negative in my wallet for safekeeping. Slipping my Smith & Wesson in its ankle holster, I went up to meet my "guests."
Opening the door, I was confronted by three men, all wearing black suits, hats and sunglasses. One flashed some sort of badge and politely stated "We heard you witnessed some sort of unusual meteoric activity, and we would like to get your account." Suspiciously, I let them in. They sat on the sofa like three rocks. Eyes narrowed, I began to tell them my story. Halfway through, one of the men interrupted me with a sneer and said, "Did you realize how often that the planet Venus is mistaken for a UFO?" Another one of the men added "What you saw was a meteor, no more." I said nothing. Then, the man in the middle said "Show us this photograph, and we shall see for ourselves."
I told them I no longer had any copies of the photo. One of the men smiled, and pulled out an envelope, one of those I had mailed out, or tried to mail out, earlier in the day. "Did the meteor look anything like this?" he asked gloatingly, pulling out the photograph. "You can see the meteor quite distinctly," he said. He crushed the photo in his hand, and put it in his pocket. "Now where is the negative? You must have a negative," he said. I refused to speak. "Very well, I can tell you need persuasion," he chuckled. He reached into his coat and pulled out a syringe, full of pale yellow liquid. His two companions started to rise.
Terrified, I pulled my handgun from the ankle holster and opened fire! The bullets struck two, but, horribly, they only staggered back, seemingly unharmed, and reached into their coats! Firing off the rest of the cylinder in their direction, I fled the house, jumped into my truck, and drove into the dark night. Accelerating quickly, I heard sirens in the distance. I turned down Witness R's street, but was horrified to see his house in flames! Gunning the engine, I drove away quickly. The next morning, after a sleepless night of driving, I stopped at a bank to withdraw my money. I was shocked to discover that the bank had no record of my account. None of my credit cards worked, my social security number was registered to man who died in 1973, and my birth certificate and other records of my existence disappeared that night. I started to run that night, and I have been running ever since. I have made more prints from the negative. They are the only evidence I have that my story is true.
-Photographer X
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