Alien in The Woods ... omg so scary dun dun dun
Written By Me :)
Almost every morning my best friend Spencer and I brainstorm ideas that will ease our boredom until school starts. It usually involves…disturbing others…freaking people out. We just love seeing their expressions whenever something usual happens to them.
Spencer's List of Random Things to do to Random People:
-Hide behind a bush and make unhuman sounds.
-Drop random items such as rocks and rubber chickens from atop a small tree in a large city where business people roam.
-Go onto the roof (We actually got suspended for this one) and chant "I'M UGLY AND I'M PROUD. I'M UGLY A-"
-Walk into the middle of a bunch of 6th grade girls (The poor innocent things) and scream "THE BRITISH ARE COMING."
- Take a random fruit such as a pear or a watermelon (Did I mention that Spencer is the one who usually plays out these actions? I just sort of support and watch him.) and tie a string around it and leave it in the middle a side walk. Hide behind a corner or whatever and when people pass by move the fruit when they reach for it (That's my favorite one)
There are many, many more, those are just a few examples. Plus I'm too lazt to write them down.
One morning I went to school late. My mother, she wasn't feeling well, but of course she still planned on going to work. I wished she would give herself a break for once. Having no idea where our father is has her constantly worried about keeping food on the table. She shouldn't worry too much, there are only two of us, actually three counting the dog. (She is pregnant with another child, though, maybe that's why she is so stressed.)
Anyway, Mom slept in and my four year old brother, Tony was the one who woke her up. Round of applause for Tony everyone woohoo…yeah. Thanks a lot, Tony. Now I have to go to school, while you stay home all day and do what you want.
When I got to school I decided to talk to a few girls from my class near the front doors before finding Spencer. The conversations wasn't much, though, it was more like a little exchange like "Hey where is this and when is that and blah blah etc." and someone answers the questions and everyone is on their way wishing each other good luck for the day. (Ha. That kind of rhymed.)
Once I was on my own, I turned my head in different directions to see if I could find Spencer somewhere on the main grounds. No one was on the grass due to the mud, so I expected Spencer, like the rebel he was, to be out there, but he wasn't. I walked around the building to check our hiding places, but he was no where to be found. I began to worry that since I was late he made a scene and went into a panicked search for me, or got in really big trouble. (He tends to do that.)
The sky, which was already grey, had rain sprinkling from it. I sighed as I walked into the cafeteria, where people were eating their breakfast. He wasn't there either. I figured he was probably sick at home. I walked across the room and with out asking, grabbed the bathroom pass and headed into the empty hallway.
The girl's bathroom was empty. I looked into the mirror and realized once again how different I was from all my friends when it came to looks. I had smooth pale skin and black shaggy hair that covered the right part of my eye. (It was cut like that due to an accident that had happened two years ago when I didn't go to this school, but that's another story.) It was cut so short, and my plain wardrobe made m look like a twelve year old boy. Even though I am a 14 year old girl. And being flat chested didn't help any.
Most of my friends (a.k.a. people who aren't afraid to talk to me) are tan and blonde (All of them are from the basketball team that I joined a month ago) My best friend Spencer also has a slight tan and spiky blonde hair that was almost white. He has green eyes and freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. He wears mismatching/eccentric out fits all the time, plus my plain clothes equals not very cool. We're popular, but not cool. Popular because we
always bring attention to our selves. If it weren't for him, no one would probably never know my name. And I probably wouldn't be hated so much, but who cares what people think. I am quiet and shy, and Spencer is loud and sort of obnoxious. Anything that is right or justice he stands for, and anything that is wrong he turns against.
Why are we friends, you ask?
Because we have a little something in common, and it involves my strange haircut. Yes, I guess I am going into this, seeing how this has something to do with this story.
We both, at separate times and separate places, have encountered… aliens from outer space. And I am about to say something that you have probably heard from a lot of people who had just said something ridiculously unbelievable. It's true, I'm not lying, I am not crazy. Though everyone thinks I am.
So it happened two years ago, when I was in fifth grade. My family and I, back when Dad was with us, were camping in the woods in a Georgia camping grounds, as a vacation. I had long wavy black hair that ran down to my back. I got the waves from my father and the black color of my hair and eyes from my mother, who is part Asian. My little brother Tony was still a toddler, about two years old. He had soft spiky black baby hair and had a cute soft round baby face. I was twelve.
My mother didn't like Georgia very much because of all the trees. The woods were so thick that if you look out your second story window, you couldn't see fifty feet ahead, because all you could see were trees, trees, trees. But I liked it. Something about it, all the trees, and the wooden branches, the different plants and bushes and furry creatures scurrying around, it was very beautiful to me. I was going to say it was homey, but the woods were too amazing to be like home. It reminded me of the setting for an adventure of some sort. Looking up and around me, my heart would rise, and I wished I had some friends with me, or wished that Tony was old enough, so we could run around and play together. It was a cool summer night. We already had camp set up since this morning, and had the fire going. Dad was the one who managed the fire, and Mom sat several feet away from it near the medium sized tent, trying to rock Tony to sleep. She didn't want him near the fire. The sky was well lit by the moon and several of the stars.
"Uh oh." Said Dad. "The wood has been all burned out, looks like we need more." He eyed me and smiled evil-like.
"I'll go get some." I said energetically, despite me being tired, "I know where to find lots." I got up and headed South-west, putting on my black sweater and fixing the jeans I had on.
"Be careful." Mom called after me.
"I will." I forced an answer and ran off.
I came to a spot where several trees had been knocked over. There were about five or six of them, all of them very large, and they were all faced in the same direction, as if a strong wind had pushed them over. Some of the trees around them were half way sticking out of the ground, close to falling completely. I found it hard to believe that wind could knock those gigantic things down, though. Maybe a very large object had fallen from above, but what would that be?
They were very old trees, so the branches that I yanked off of them were dry enough to be burned. I got about five large branches and then ran back to camp. They were rather hard to carry, me being small and scrawny. But I was strong.
Suddenly I tripped over a rock, and I was on the ground so fast I had hardly enough time to stop myself. In fact, I hardly had enough time to realize what happened, and when I finally did, I just began to feel the stinging pain in my left arm. I took a deep breath and sat up, the pain getting worse and worse by the second. I quickly looked at what was wrong with it, and behold, a small branch (It wasn't small compared to my arm) was sliced deep into the under part of my arm, the part where you could see the veins most easy. It stretched my skin and hardly any blood came out. I drew in a deep breath and a screech was caught in the back of my throat. I covered my wavering mouth and the back of my eyes begun to sting. I let the tears pour out for just a few seconds. It wasn't the pain, just the sight of it that upset me. I am such an idiot, running through the dark woods with large sharp objects in my arms. I pulled myself to together and took a few more deep breaths. Camp was pretty far away. I could barely see the smoke rising from the fire in the moonlight. I looked at my wound one more time and decided I did not want anyone to touch it, not my mother, not a doctor, and especially not my father. (Dad is great at tendingwounds, it's just he doesn't really care how much pain he causes you.)
I will pull it out myself, and then let my parents take care of it. I told myself. I pulled on it, and nearly screamed from the pain. I stopped and thought some more. I will have to yank on it really hard and fast and get it done and over with. (That's what she said...I'm a perv I know.) And being the naive 12 year old I was, I didn't think of the out comes, such as skin loss and torn veins and tissue, and all the blood I would loose. Once again, I grabbed the end of the branch and readied myself to pull, but I was distracted by a rustling sound about five feet to my right. My heart dropped with even more fear than I already had. I have always thought I could take on a coyote, especially with all these large branches surrounding me, but with this wound? I turned and saw an unexpected shape of a tall scrawny man. I gasped.
"Daddy?" I asked in a whimpered voice. I hoped so much it was him. If it was I would hug him tight and cry into his shoulder and let him carry me back to camp. No, Dad was short and bulky. This person was so tall and thin, he was almost freakish looking. He walked towards me and as I saw the light touch his face, I let a sigh of relief because the person had on the most kind and concerned smile I had ever seen. When he spoke, his voice was thin and husky.
"Do. You. Need. Help. Child?" He talked in a very careful voice, and said each word like it was separate sentence, as if he wasn't used to speaking English, but I couldn't hear and accent or a tone of any sort in his voice.
I shook my head, still not wanting anyone to touch it. He didn't listen, and crouched down next to me. He gently grabbed my arm and studied the wound, his eyes were almost closed from looking down and I couldn't see his eye color. He had a long thin face, almost bony, and his skin looked like it was pulled tightly against his cheek bones, causing it to shine as if it were smooth rubber. It had a greenish tent to it. His nose looked like it had been stretched horizontally and was smaller yet wider than most noses. His lips were dry, thin and purple. He had large pointy ears. I felt almost frightened by his appearance, but knew better than to judge others by their looks. His hair was brown and shiny, but it didn't look soft, it looked rougher than my dad's hair, even rougher than my dog's. He looked about eighteen.
His long thin fingers were wrapped around my arm carefully, for some reason; I think he was looking for my pulse. His hand felt leathery.
I shuddered, knowing that this man was not quite human.
He reached in his shirt pocket, which was made of a material I never seen before, and pulled out a small white bottle, which had strange markings of a different language on it. He squeezed it over my arm and clear, cold liquid came oozing out. He put the bottle away and started rubbing it gently on my arm, and then told me to wait for a few moments.
"What. Is. Your. Name?" He asked.
"Bridget." I replied. He smiled, but didn't show his teeth (If he had any teeth).
"What's your name?"
"….Bob." I snorted.
"Bob?!?" So obviously fake, but he nodded.
Suddenly, my arm went numb. I couldn't feel a thing.
"I can't feel anything!"
"Good." He replied. "You may want to look away if you are squeamish." His words were choppy but quicker.
I looked away, not because I was squeamish, but because- okay, I was squeamish. After a few moments I heard a thud on the ground, and right next to me I saw a bloody piece of wood. I stupidly looked at my arm, which no longer had a branch bulking in it, but a bunch of blood gushing out. My stomach painfully churned, I couldn't look away. Bob quickly went back to his pocket and pulled out another strange bottle and practically poured the clear stuff on my gushing arm. I looked at his face and saw that he was even more disturbed by the blood than I was. I could tell, even though he seemed to try very hard to keep a calm expression. He rubbed it all over, and suddenly the blood stopped pouring. Bob pulled out a piece of cloth and wiped the blood away, and I gasped at the sight of my arm once again. I was as if there had never been a wound there in the first place, except for the tiny pink line that looked like a scar that had been there for years. My mouth fell open and I looked up at Bob.
"That's amazing!" I exclaimed. He looked up into my eyes for the first time and I gasped again. His eyes were pure black, blacker than mine, and there wasn't a single white on his eye. They were shiny and glossy, glossier than a sick puppy's eyes.
"Go to your family now." He ordered me.
"Wait." I didn't want to leave him. He reached into his pocket for the third time and I wondered how many different items he had stashed up in there. He pulled out a pretty and very shiny silver spiked ball, and handed it to me. It fit in the palm of my hand. Without thinking, I went into my jean pocket and pulled out my favorite heart necklace and handed it to him. He took it. I looked down at the jewelry like thing and looked back up, and "Bob" was gone.
The cold wind blew and I shivered, and for the first time in my favorite woods, I felt scared and alone.
AN: What does the incounter have to do with Bridgett's strange hair cut?
The world may never know.
And yes, I know, the plot is rather fucked up.
And btw the characters in this story are based off of something else I am currently writng.