My Cardboard Balcony

Alien Abduction by Belinda Roddie There was gold dust left on the bottom of my shoes. There was light beaming down upon me. The rain was washing away the clods of brown, imposing earth, exposing new flesh underneath. Flesh as white and smooth as an oyster's devoured pearl. I tipped my hat and scraped the dirt off of my arms. The hair follicles on my wrist seemed clogged with something. When I pulled a tuft out, it gleamed with a silver intensity that did not seem real or terrestrial. My prospecting days were over. I was going home. Their home.

I decided to pay Doctor Vox a visit on the eve of September twentieth. It was a particularly warm evening, yet it did not stop me from wearing the scarf that my mother had sewn for me, tightly wound around my raw throat. I stopped by the towering house where the doctor resided and knocked three times on the door - just as she always requested. After a good ten or so seconds, the door creaked open, but I couldn't seem to see who exactly had come to greet me in the first place.