"Small" writing challenges for my small writing talent. Hotel note pads are the only space allowed. Let's see if I can strip it down and tighten it up to learn something. Improving my skill of weird fiction.
“Go ahead and tell the whole internet. They’ll never believe you’re crazy story.”
Agent Smith’s grey hat barely cleared the headliner as he cornered onto a gravel road.
I said, “It’s true. We saw it. You told me you saw it too.”
“Yeah, think about it ok? I’ll tell ya UFO’s are real too. Aliens, Hitler’s brain, Elvis alive in Michigan, that’s all real stuff but you know how it all goes over In the end. No one will believe you. We got the conspiracy market fixed.” His conviction was like supremely winning a Star Wars vs. Star Trek argument.
The tan Chevrolet sedan stopped near a burning hulk of airliner, water spraying from fire trucks to control the burning fields on the edge of town. They were lucky it didn’t plow into the Wal-Mart a hundred yards further. Aluminum wrapped people on fire is a terrible smell.
Throwing the console shifter into park, Agent Smith continued, “Besides, a lightning shooting giant octopus living in the Black Canyon is gunnna’ sound really sane to the internet, your family, your friends, and your doctor.”
He was right. We were the only two witnesses of the shoot-down. A regional turbo-prop airliner was approaching Montrose’s airport when a massive slimy head peeked over the fifteen-hundred foot canyon wall. A tentacle reached up, fired lightning out of a suction cup, blasting off the right engine nacelle and wing. I was camping near the canyon edge. Agent “Smith” was “vacationing” – In a grey suit jacket and hat. As the only other witness he showed his badge and offered me a ride to town-along with some professional advice. He told me what he saw and after hearing his story, I knew I wasn’t seeing things. I told what I witnessed.
I shook my head, “This is straight out of a fifties B-movie you know.”
Smith turned his head to me, all serious, and said, “Those were all full-on documentaries. Real shit in those films. We had to scare people so they’d stay away from the weird places. Tar pits, black lagoons, radioactive test sites, lights in the woods. Now, more are scared than curious. We saved lives with those films. Public service announcements they were…Can you believe this bastard got here all the way from Vegas?”
We got out of the car. I grabbed my backpack from the rear seat. He wouldn’t let me put it in the trunk. It was only a short hike to a motel. Smith held out a fifty dollar bill.
“Here, for a room tonight. The canyon will be closed for another day or so until we exterminate the octopus. Then you can go back to camp. I’m sure the park will tell you why they’re closed.”
We shook hands, “Yeah. I’m good. I got my clothes. Thank’s for the lift and the room tonight.”
Then I said the dumbest thing I ever said in my life, “Good luck with your atomic octopus hunt.”
“No, thank you! Now we know what suction cups to avoid. You’re a good American helping us like that. If we have more questions, we know where you live.”
I have no doubt about that. Men-in-Black, my ass.
(Author’s notes) 24th August, 2015: Over Kansas somewhere (508 words) Drawing credit: ME!
I have no idea how i thought of it. I read a short story of late night old style T.V writers hacking away in an issue of Analog magazine. I thought of B-movies and weird monster combinations and applied more strange layers and thought about, what if…it was real. here you go.