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What the blue-green Alien said.

Take me to your Readers …again!”

That’s what the blue-green alien said, as he stepped off the ramp of his spaceship.  It had landed in my front yard this time, hyperdrive humming and every light on the saucer’s edge pulsing in vibrant technicolor.  (This dude is just getting way too comfortable around here.)

“Hey,” I said, moving to intercept him.  “Doesn’t that thing have a cloaking device or something?”  I glanced around nervously, trying to block my friend from view. “And get a disguise why don’t ya.  Or do you actually believe that alien autopsy was faked?”

Deer season just ended in my neck of the woods and not everybody bagged a buck this year. A blue green alien with four legs, three tentacles, and five black, slitted eyes could make a person famous… or at least the owner of a one-of-a-kind wall trophy.  “Let’s get inside,” I urged.

With no heed for my warnings and no verbal response, he immediately put a telepathic imprint on my psyche:

“Okay, what exactly was that?” I demanded. “Alien hieroglyphs?”

“Ah,” he said, stroking his cheek with a tentacle. “I forget about your less developed mind. Here, try this.”  An image flashed through my brain:

The alien smiled. (At least I think it was a smile.)  “Imagine each as a portal to another realm,” he explained. “They lead to the same place. The image may convey the destination more clearly than our Universal language.”

I closed my eyes and studied the scene more carefully, then raised my brows and nodded.  “Awesome!  An internet link!”

He frowned, as much as his strange features would allow.  “Why must you describe the incredible in such mundane terms?”  He waved a tentacle excitedly.  “This link, as you call it, is a portal that leads to a place of wondrous adventure and intriguing tales,” he declared. “Share it with everyone who dreams of starships or sorcery. And let them know that some or all of the stories are mostly almost absolutely true.”

“Um, okay,” I mumbled. “Should I tell them who you are, or anything like that? You know, so you won’t catch them off guard, should they meet you on the other side of that link.”

His black eyes glistened with reflected starlight. “Did I mindwipe you?”

“No… I mean yes, uh …maybe. Wait, how would I even know?”  I glanced around, avoiding his gaze.  “It’s just that … well, your name… it’s so weird, dude.”

“You forgot,” he said.

I held up a hand. “Give me a sec.  I think it’s Buford… no Mumford… uh Muffler?”

“Muflard,” he finally said. “But my friends just call me Joe.”

I grinned.  “Of course! Joe!”  I reached out and shook a tentacle. “Man, how long has it been?  A year?  Year and a half? Yeah, so how’s it going Joe?”

The tentacle retracted through my hand, its row of suckers popping as each one slid free. He hit me with the link again, burning it deep into my mind.

“My name does not really matter,” he continued. “As I am not among those tales.” He prepared to reboard his spaceship. “If your readers are curious about my mission they can find me in Weird Winds on Amazon.” He raised his tentacles in a writhing farewell, as the door slid up, closing tight.

I watched his vessel rise into the night sky, knowing I would see him again.

But first I had a message to deliver. So I rushed inside to let all of you know. And now you do.  As for me, I can never forget that compelling image seared into my brain.

Or can I?  If it’s like the last one, the link … or um … portal will be closing in a few short days.  And with the closing, the image will fade, the stories will once again be scattered abroad, and many of the bargains will slowly transform to their original price.

So, yeah, I better go.  I gotta check out that portal.



John Stacy Worth