He had been taken from the desert, in Texas, when he was seven years old.
His father, shot-gun in hand, and he had been climbing rocky outbreaks amidst cactus and scrub.
They had hunted coyote there before,
and had used a coyote lure, a blow- into device that produced a sound that resembled a rabbit’s cry of pain; with their backs to the setting sun to blind the predator’s approach, they had shot and killed six, that evening.
But soon they had been prey and not predator.
A craft had appeared overhead.
It had appeared from nowhere, instantly.
It was blue like the sky, slowly changing to brown, like the desert floor, then silver as though the color progression change of metal cooling.
Later, when his father had awoken, a shell had been discharged, missing from the chamber, but he had no memory of ever firing the gun.
The seven year old had been swept aloft into an overhead craft and examined by small, dark, large-eyed, hairless beings with large pear-shaped heads extended in the back.
They had a thin torso, long arms with three long fingers, spindly legs, no ears and mere slits for mouth.
The large black eyes strangely had compelling power.
“You will not remember!”
But he had remembered..
He had felt pain unlike any ever imagined and he screamed
The large black-wet eyes had stared at him endlessly, extensively, close up to his head.
“This will not hurt.”, they had said.
But agony had suffused lines and channels throughout his body.
Terror, rage and pain had overcome him.
The creatures had been puzzled by his pain, saying,” You will not remember.”
When he was returned to the desert floor, some forty minutes later, his father had looked switched off, eyes glazed, saliva dribbling from the right corner of his mouth.
It was his sobbing, he had then believed that had awoken his father.
His father had told him that he had imagined and dreamed it.
“The Texas sun can give you heat stroke, make you see things”, he had said, holding the shaking boy close and placing a hand over his son’s forehead.
“Let’s find some shade.”
They had walked to the shade of hemlock and mesquite at the foot of rock outgrowth and had eaten bologna sandwiches with yellow mustard and had washed it down with canteen water.
During this, the child had held his father’s hand and had not let go; while his father had chewed slowly watching his son in puzzlement, the child had stared upwards in fear.
When he was seventeen, an abduction’s violence became mutual, one night :
*One night, a creepy psychic feeling had prevailed, and aware of them, and their approach, he had pretended to be asleep, had gone into deep, regular breathing, and had visualized a dream he would like to be in, but instead, he had waited.
‘The wallpaper on three walls had distorted and bulged and animal-like small snouts and pear-shaped grey heads, on small creatures had waggled in rapid fashion, back and forth.
They had seemed to melt out of his bedroom walls, had stood coldly to surround him and his bed, one close by his side, two at the footboard, and another by the doorway.
He had jumped up and had grabbed the closest one to him around the neck, had clutched the feather-like being’s back to his own chest, pinioning him.
The creature had frantically struggled to hit him with a small hand-held rod-like device, but the pillows had
prevented the creature from reaching the teenager’s body with it.’
In panic, the lightweight creature had squirmed and had thrashed in the boy’s tightening grip.
The others had in quick moves, like jumping spiders, scattered from the tight circle.
He had tightened his grip and had squeezed hard until
something brittle had snapped in the creature’s neck.’
Suddenly the scene had changed; he had seen his whole family, brother, mother and father surgically eviscerated, but alive and in tears.
On a black floor under hospital lights, had been lungs, intestines, strewn amidst their gore, and as they had laid there amidst their organs, they had pleaded with their eyes for him to save them.
The image had been so real that it had successfully worked to confuse, startle and distract him.
He had been convinced that real harm had come to his family and he had quickly loosened his grip.
His parents had writhed in agony, butchered horribly in front of his eyes.
There had been a dank, musty smell that had then permeated the bedroom.
The creature in his arms had, in self protection, in desperate panic to free itself, flashed the imagery into his mind, but he had killed one of them.
They never came for him physically, after that night; when he was safely deep within R.EM. sleep, they would tease away, vibrate his astral soul, from his body left behind in bed, in alien astral abductions, and he’d awaken with vivid screen memory “bad dreams”, feeling even more bereft, completely unable in out of body abductions, to strike back at his tormentors.
He once read that another abductee wrote:
‘A leap in consciousness will require a dissolution and restructuring of your beliefs about the nature of reality’.
To his mind, to live unburdened by an insatiable curiosity to comprehend the mysteries of the motives and tactics of the pilots of UFOs in our universe, was in itself, quite an amazing thing.
But her eloquent published words brought him peace:
‘The history of mankind has been punctuated by personalities who refused to be bound by the grand illusion of space and time, seekers who penetrated the limitations of space and form.’
‘Knowing that the aliens reside in a different reality explains why this whole UFO phenomenon is so slippery; we exist within a matrix of other realities all merging in one spot: the mind.’
‘Their world coexists with our own intimately intertwined and separated by the thinnest veil- our arrogant assumption that we are the sole proprietors of the only reality.’
And he knew forever, by her words, that abductees are all alone, together..
*based, in part on a Gulf Breeze account, from the sixties
This post was written by Nadia Vella