Fiction Friday – 8th July – Aliens and Microwaves

Hi! Remember me? I sometimes do Fiction Friday!

Sorry I’ve been away, life just seems to have been crazy for a while. I’m back with my A Round of Words in 80 Days challenge, and I’m back to write stories.

The prompt for this week from Write Anything (on their snazzy new site – take a look at it here) is:

The government has issued a warning that a particular (and common) household item has begun to have an unusual side effect on pets ( or children, or adults) . You realise that own this item and cannot contact anyone at home to check or warn them. When you arrive, you see…

There’s nothing like a little Sci-Fi on a Friday morning, so here we go… (just remember, I don’t read, or generally write Sci-fi, so I have no idea where this idea came from. Also remember, I follow the rules of Fiction Friday, so this is the 1st – unedited – draft).

Don’t worry. Don’t worry. It’s a hoax. Of course it’s a hoax. I mean, Aliens don’t exist do they? Of course they don’t.

Except I’ve always felt that they do. The universe it huge, and you can’t tell me in something as large as it (which I don’t even understand) there’s no other intelligent life forms. But they’re certainly not coming to earth. The first we hear of them can’t be them walking out of the microwave.

It has to be a hoax. Aliens walking out of microwaves. You couldn’t write about it, it’s so strange. But the BBC reported it. The BBC, one of the most credible news sources in the world reported it. They don’t do hoaxes. Not even on April 1st, and it’s not April 1st.

It’s not, is it? It’s… Of course, it’s May 2nd. It’s Julie’s 10th Birthday tomorrow.

Julie. Julie and Billy. Where are they. Why aren’t they at home with their Dad? He didn’t say they were going out, and it’s only 9am. If they didn’t have any specific plans, they wouldn’t have got out the house this early. Not on a Saturday.

I try the land line again and it rings out. The feeling of dread grows. One of the kids always gets the phone. They race for it. It’s their greatest competition. So why aren’t they answering? They must be up. They can never stay in bed past 7am at the weekend. Ironic when you have to literally drag them out during the week. Those weekend cartoons!

I turn off my phone and throw evil looks at my stereo. Why isn’t it working. Of course I know Billy and his love of putting toast in holes is what’s wrong. God I hope he’s ok. I hope they’re all ok.

Is it me, or is the street quieter than it should be at ten to nine on a Saturday morning? I have no real way of knowing, I’m usually either at work, or still at home watching cartoons at this time, but it feels quieter. The whole way over, I’ve only see about three other cars. That can’t be right can it? Is something wrong? It is isn’t it? Oh no.

Words from the TV report I was watching flood my head as I pull up on our road. ‘Government warnings… Don’t use microwaves… waves are facilitating their descent to earth… Unplug… Do not use.’ Even though I’m less than 500 meters from home, I try the phone again.

Come on, come on. COME ON Tim. Answer the phone. Answer it. Damn.

That’s it. I can see the house. IT looks normal. Except that noise. What is that noise? Shit, it’s my heart. It’s not natural to beat that fast.

The curtains are still drawn. I can tell that the lounge light is on. Why the hell isn’t anyone answering the phone.

I pull up on the drive and am out the seat before I’ve got a chance to turn the ignition off. Sod the car. My hand’s trembling as I put the key in the lock. Shit, stay still hand. Stay still.

‘Kids! Tim!’ I shout as I finally get the door open.

‘MUM!’ I hear from the lounge, along with a scrambling sounds of them getting up and dashing to me.

‘Julie. Billy. My babies. You’re ok. You’re ok.’ They’re ok. Calm down. They’re ok. I want to hold them forever, never let them out of my sight again, but before I know it they’re off, back to whatever show they’re watching.

‘Why didn’t you answer the phone?’ I shout to their retreating backs.

‘Daddy says it’s broken,’ Billy shouts to me from in front of the TV. ‘The man from Bee Teas has to come and fix it.’

Of course. Of course. It’s been on the blink for a few days. OF course. Everyone’s ok.

‘Where’s your dad?’ I ask as I put my bag down on the sofa.

‘In the kitchen. I’m having a strawberry Nesquik.’

 ‘I’m having a chocolate one.’

‘Yes, but my Strawberry one is nicer…’

The sounds of them arguing fades as I realise the implications of what they’re saying. Julie likes it hot. Hot milk means Microwave. NOOOOOOOO.

‘Tim!’ I turn immediately and run down the hall. ‘TIM! TIIIIIMMMMM!’ I hear nothing except the sound of my blood running through my veins and my breathing. The kitchen door is closed. Shit. Why’s the kitchen door closed?

‘Tim?’ I slowly open the door. ‘Tiiiii.’

Tim is standing immediately inside the kitchen. His face freezes me. I’ve never seen such a look of horror on anyone. I’ve never understood what people mean when they say someone’s gone white. Tim is practically translucent. His dark eyes look hollow, and he’s actually trembling. It doesn’t take me long to realise why. Running round the floor are… things. Hundreds and hundreds of things. Not just the floor, the worktop, the table, the chairs. They’re climbing up the cupboards, and… oh god, they’re all over the ceiling. Every surface of the kitchen is covered in white things running about. They’re moving too fast for me to see what they are, but they look like… It sounds crazy but they look like Stigs. One inch high Stigs. Yes, Stigs from TVs Top Gear. I think they look like white one inch men with huge white heads.

I can tell the look on Tim’s face is reflected in mine as they start coming out the kitchen and filling the hall. What the hell? I’m frozen. I’m not even exaggerating. They’ve done something and I can’t move. Nothing. Not my arm, not my legs.

Oh god the kids. I can’t see behind me, but I imagine they’re scrurrying for the lounge. They’re so quiet though.

‘Muuuuuum. Where’s my Nesquik?’ It’s the last thing I hear before I black out.


When I come to, everything’s white and cold…

So. What do you think. I wasn’t really sure how to end it, so I thought, so I thought I’d go down the ambiguous route. Please leave a comment, I’d love to hear what you think.

Oh, and if you don’t know what my aliens look like – this is the Stig:

5 thoughts on “Fiction Friday – 8th July – Aliens and Microwaves

  1. I really liked the idea of the Stigs multiplying and filling the house. It reminded me of maggots, only more dangerous and gross and terrifying! Nice idea!

  2. Love idea of millions of little Stigs running around! I too don’t read sci-fi but like the idea of aliens as it means you can take the story anywhere.

    I liked the way you used lots of short sentences when she is panicking as it makes it feel like she is more panicked as you read.

  3. Here is a random compliment..I dreamt I was being attacked by mini stigs coming from a microwave last night! I had to save others from them. You must have done something very right for it to lodge in my brain!

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