You think you know our story. The asteroid. The extinction. The line of descendants who succeeded in taking to the air in ways we never did, never could.
I stopped writing and dropped my pen. I glanced up at the monitor that displayed a magnified image. And shifted my gaze over to the already withering leaf mounted on the simple light microscope.
It was my imagination. It had to be.
That day, I was outside with my mom admiring the flowers in her garden when I spotted it, or them actually. Two ships in the sky just under the cottony clouds. The strange ships were next to each other and seemed to be separate and yet joinable, like modules. They were so low I could see details, markings on the hull. I thought I should go get my brother and show him. He’d appreciate the awesomeness of the sight far more than my mother. When I pointed up at the sky, she merely shaded her eyes and looked up, acknowledged with a half-hearted mumble, and went back to her watering. But I knew it would happen. By the time I ran into the house and got him outside, the ships were gone. I don’t know why I had made such a big deal about it. He went inside right before the next sight in the sky happened. I kept watching as the clouds that had been above the strange ships condensed and spread and contracted until they made a single shape, a five-pointed star. Continue reading