Mut lutlh (This Species Is Primitive)

Teresa’s challenge for today is yet another genre I am not used to. Well all these different genres certainly make a change from writing about my lovely Jack, don’t they!

Your challenge today, should you accept it, is to take to the skies and explore. Write your take on the science fiction subgenre of Aliens and see where it leads…or whatever/wherever the prompt takes you.

https://maplesswanderer.wordpress.com/2020/01/08/daily-writing-prompt-8/

I have so little imagination when it comes to “aliens” themselves, but I thought of a little story all the same.

“Where’s Stevie tonight? I was sure he would be here.”

“Stevie! Oh goodness, Stevie has lost the plot. He said he has gone to meet “the aliens” when they return,” laughed Judith.

Richard raised a cynical eyebrow, “Oh no, he’s not still going on about that nonsense is he? Somebody’s been watching too much sci-fi!”

“He is obsessed with his alien stories. He has been saying for weeks that a ship from his home planet on the other side of the galaxy, is on the way here to take him back home.”

“He’s getting worse Judith. When will he grow up?”

At that very moment while Richard and Judith were talking, Stevie was next to the B412 just before the Enbuckle Tunnel. As it slowly descended, the ship decloaked once it was within a hundred feet of the road surface. Once the ship had landed and the door opened, a landing crew of three officers disembarked to greet Stevie.

Stevie knelt and bowed his head, before the senior officer, who wore several military awards hung on a heavy bar that was tacked to either side of his enormous collar bone, “NuqneH yuQ tera’.”

“Mut lutlh” was the reply of the Commander.

After rising onto his feet again, Stevie agreed, “HIja’ chaH. lIngchugh poch Sum tu’lu’. laH refuel maH ngejtaH lutebjaj chenmoH maH.” (*SEE BELOW FOR TRANSLATION)

The next day media organisations reported on the mysterious explosion at the Enbuckle nuclear plant. The whole area was evacuated due to the hazardous radiation readings.

Families were unable to return to their properties for the next three months. During those three months there was so much upheaval in the Enbuckle community it was hard to keep in touch with neighbours and colleagues.

“I wonder where Stevie has been staying?” pondered Judith.

Richard responded, “I always presumed he must have some family or friends out of town. Even though he never spoke about them.”

“He only ever spoke about the alien species he claimed to be from. He’s never mentioned any real family.”

“Ha, ha. Hey Judith, maybe he has gone home to the planet he and the other aliens are from!”

“Oh Richard, you are hilarious! Well, wherever he is now, I hope his loved ones are helping him get that silly alien nonsense out of his head. I was starting to worry that he was going to end up with the whole town thinking he was crazy.”

__________

Alien conversation loosely translated as follows:

Stevie knelt and bowed his head, before the senior officer, who wore several military awards hung on a heavy bar that was tacked to either side of his enormous collar bone, “Welcome to Planet Earth’.”

“This species is primitive” was the reply of the Commander.

After rising onto his feet again, Stevie agreed, “Yes they are. There is a nuclear power plant nearby. There is enough uranium there to refuel the ship for the journey home.”

 

My Brother’s Bedroom

When I saw the picture for this week’s  FANDANGO’S FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE, I thought of a real life experience from my past. The picture reminds me so much of my brother’s bedroom. I remember committing an act of theft and to make matters worse, I followed that with an outright dishonest lie of denial. I was only around five years of age at the time. I still remember it thirty years later!

It all started when I went into my brother’s bedroom. Now I was very aware of the rule that my parents had set. We were not allowed to go into my brother’s room without his permission (a rule that had been made after previous invasions). But I broke this rule and crept into my brother’s room.

I was fascinated by my brother’s belongings. He was eight years older than me. He was a very good artist. He had these little bottles of ink and tubes of gouache on his desk. I could not resist playing with them. I also found his magnifying glass and played with that until I was bored. Then I noticed next to the lamp on his desk there was some money. I took it. It was not a huge amount, perhaps £2 or £3. I slipped out of my brother’s room before I was discovered, thinking that I had got away with it.

Some time later, I heard a sound that always made me and my sisters excited. I rushed to my parents and asked them of we could have an ice-cream from the ice-cream van which was playing it’s song in the street outside. My parents said not this time. Then I asked if I could go and buy one for myself with my own money. They asked where my money had come from.

I lied, “I found it.”

“Where did you find it Mel?” they asked.

“It was on the floor outside.”

“How much did you find Mel?”

I told them how much I had and I could see my brother shooting looks at my parents. They did not react. They started to ask me if I had been painting that day. Well, I did not have any paints. There were paints at school, but we did not have any for us little ones at home. So I told them it was my felt-tips. I should have known right then that I had been caught out.

“Mel…have you been into your brother’s room?”

“Noooooo!” I fibbed again! My brother looked so cheesed off. But he waited for my parents.

“It’s just that when your brother went into his room a while ago some of his inks for painting had been spilt on his desk and chair and on the carpet. There was also paint on the handle of his magnifying glass. Is there any possibility that you might have been there – just for five minutes?”

Then came my denial, “It wasn’t me. I didn’t go in.”

“There was some money missing from his room as well.”

…well, I couldn’t bear it much longer. I came clean. I admitted that I had been in my brother’s room and took the money. It took me longer to admit that I played with his inks though.

I remember vividly how my parents tried to reach my heart in their effort to help me understand why what I had done was wrong. I remember their patient way of sitting down and asking questions to determine how much we understood our own actions and whether we appreciated why what we had done was wrong.

I am so glad that my parents did help me to reason as a very small child on what was right and wrong. When I had done something that was wrong, they helped me to understand why it was wrong. They helped me to see that I had a choice: would I repeat my action? or next time I had the opportunity, would I choose to shun the wrong thought that had come into my head? They helped me to see I could learn to control any wrong thoughts or desires, and that there is a special happiness from choosing to do the right thing. I learnt that life is so much happier with a good conscience. An inner judge that says “Well done Caramel, good girl!”

______________

Even though it is not fiction on this occasion, this was my response to FANDANGO’S FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE:

https://fivedotoh.com/2020/01/06/fandangos-flash-fiction-challenge-48/

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