Page 2 of My Wild Pet
A nightmare.
But it doesn’t feel like a dream when a piercing sound I’ve never heard before breaks the monotony of silence in the room.
I open my eyes to see part of the wall literally melt away in front of me.
Figures emerge—creatures? Aliens? Their skin gleams like liquid metal under the orange glow, and they move in false-starts, like an amateur stop-motion film, and it’s unnerving to watch them.
If I’m screaming, I don’t even register that I am because I’ve never been so terrified in my whole life.
One of the creatures makes an awful clicking sound that sends goosebumps rippling over my skin.
A slick, clammy tentacle slithers around my neck. My stomach lurches. I vomit in my mouth.
A futuristic gadget scans me from head to toe with a bright-blue beam. More clicking. More frantic tentacles touching me everywhere.
I realize with dread, I’m a lab rat on their examination table, which is exactly the kind of “first contact” scenario I never wanted to experience.
Some feeling comes back to my throat and lips, probably thanks to all the stomach acid in my vomit and I manage a weak whisper. “Please… don’t….”
But the creatures don’t even pause to look at me. The clicking just gets louder and the tentacles begin to move more frantically over my body.
That’s when I see the surgical tools—silver, shiny, and definitely sharp—gleaming under the pulsing orange lights. Then like lightning, a brilliant flash hits me full-on. My muscles seize, and suddenly I’m sinking into unconsciousness. I catch one last glimpse of those instruments hovering above me, and my brain screams a silent prayer:Wake up, wake up. Wake up from this nightmare!
But then darkness swallows me whole.
I wake with a start. I’m no longer shivering, but my skin is coated in a thick, slimy, foul-smelling oil. I want to break free, but my wrists and ankles are still tied down.
The air around me is overwhelming my nostrils with a chemical tang I can’t place and I gag.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, something moves in my periphery vision.
And then it comes into focus.
Another creature is looming behind me, its black tentacles gleam under the dim lighting. It’s gripping the edges of the table I’m on and is pushing me down a dark hallway.
I feel like I’ve stepped into a sci-fi horror movie I never wanted to watch, let alone be the star of.
After a few minutes, we reach two transparent glowing orange walls, and I see other humans. A dozen, maybe fewer, huddled together. Relief washes over me.
I’m not alone.
But the relief is quickly replaced by panic. None of the humans make eye contact with me. Their heads hang low, as if every ounce of hope has been wrung out of them.
What is this place?
The alien’s tentacles twitch as it examines the two cages. Its large eyes scanning each one as though deciding where I belong.
I watch its movements.
My mind screams,Put me in with the women!I can see them in the cage closest to me—all blonde and all hauntingly similar, as if they could be sisters.
I try to point, to gesture, to do anything to make myself understood, but it’s no good.
Finally after a long minute, the alien has decided where I belong and shifts its attention to a cage holding three men. It raises a device—a weapon? And shows it to the men.
Without hesitation, they shuffle back against the wall.
I want to protest, but something is keeping me from making a sound.
