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Aliens
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The Spectator
founded 2004 by ron cruger
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 by Frank Shortt
shafra@sbcglobal.net
2013 Spectator Ron - The Spectator All Rights Reserved
C
        Dreams are sometimes triggered by eating too much or eating spicy foods. Sometimes dreams are to teach us lessons. A man named Joseph in the New Testament had dreams to warn him of oncoming danger. The following dream was given to me to teach me a valuable truth.
        The craft came from the East. The appearance, lunar shaped and cheese orange. A reverberating, whistling sound emanated from the chrome covered exhausts protruding from the lower extremities.
        My family and I were gathered at Grandpa Addison’s house, high on a ridge in the hills of old Virginia, considered the spawn of our heritage. I sat alone upon the porch and was the first to spot the alien craft, my reaction being one of total alarm. The others thought me daft when I reported it.
        “Come see this strange phenomenon,” I cried as I ran inside.
        By the time we all assembled on the porch, the orb had disappeared, gliding into the West. We ran quickly to the back yard wondering what this could mean for us, and as suddenly as the craft had disappeared, it appeared again soaring and angling toward us, causing us to take cover. Whistling overhead, it came to rest on the hillside above Grandpa's coal shed.
       With consternation we approached the strange craft, and with one accord cautiously approached the giant door, which slid open as we came near it. We faced imminent death if the beings inside proved to be hostile. How could we know what awaited us?
        The being that emerged from the door was a being just like us, or so it seemed at the time. His demeanor was one of wonder such as we manifested. Mutual caution was the order of the moment. He was a tall, blond, muscular, swaggering, typical American male with the ever-present U.S. Flag emblazoned on the front of his uniform. We believed immediately that this was no veil and began to trust him. The markings on the ship, upon closer examination, proved to be American.
        “We have nothing to fear,” someone in the crowd gasped with a sigh of relief.
        We gazed inside the craft to see fixtures which were popular in the sixties or thereabouts. The other occupants appeared hazy in light of the forward scout. The whole setup was to make us believe that these men had been sent on a mission in the sixties and had become lost in space, but finally had found their way back to Earth. 
        I, seemingly being more observant than most of my kin present, began to be suspicious of our new found friend. Something just was not right!! On his belt was a modern, futuristic phaser gun, not yet made in the sixties. All kinds of mixed emotions ran through my mind.
        “What is the make of your weapon” I casually asked the tall, blond gentleman.
        He began to quake as my question seemed to stun him. His response was to point the weapon at me intending to do me in. I ran hurriedly to the space ship, closing the door for safety, my only quest to flee for my life. What awaited me inside the spaceship caused me to doubt my senses.
        My father had died several years before the events here put down, so I surely didn't expect him to be inside the ship. How he got there I'll never know. I cried to him in despair,
        “Do you have ammo to fit the old 410 shotgun”?
        This was the gun I had always used as a boy for hunting squirrel and rabbit. It lay in a corner, just as I had left it when I left home at eighteen. This was the gun we all used as a utility weapon, for harmful snakes, etc. on the little hillside farm where I was raised.
        “I only have one shot shell to fit the 410!” Dad cried with pathos in his voice.
        I soon learned that we would need larger and more sophisticated weapons to deal with these beings.
        Suddenly, the door came crashing inward, there standing in the doorway was the alien being. I shot him full force in the chest, only to stagger him a little. My suspicions were confirmed!! He was not of our world. We made haste to escape from the cabin as he regained his senses from the impact of the shotgun, whatever his senses were? After swirling around the cabin a couple of times, the alien charged out the door after us.
        Careening from bush to bush to avoid the deadly ray, I was doing some fast thinking. This thought was foremost in my mind;
        “Men aren't always what they seem but we can know them by the type of weapon they possess. If unknown weapons, having strange ammunition should be displayed, avoid that person at all costs.”
If I was hit, I do not know as I was awakened from this strange and horrid dream by the ringing of the telephone.