I shoot my hand out to warn Hank of the car ahead. He swerves and hits the breaks. He brings us neatly back in-between the roads white lines like nothing happened.
“Jesus, you almost killed us,” I say.
He replies with something and I ask him to repeat it. Okay, yeah, I can’t hear shit. My brother has been practically yelling at me this whole trip. Probably why we almost died a second ago.
Ring-a-ding-ding. I’m going mad. I got old show-tunes playing right along with this incessant ringing in my ears. It started yesterday morning and it just won’t quit. I’m sure it’ll stop any second. These things tend to sort themselves out.
He’s trying to communicate again, something about what the hell is wrong with me. He gives me the look—like there is something truly irreparable about my very being. A young man of seventeen going to the library during summer vacation. He doesn't understand. None of them do. He probably had a girlfriend when he was in diapers. A revolving door of floozies. No thanks. I don’t like anyone at my school. I’d be happy if they all got together down at the river and committed ritual suicide by drowning. That, I would watch.
We’re here. The library. My sanctuary. I jump out of the car, slam the door and don’t say a goddamn word.
I’ve never been to a real monastery but I imagine it’s something like this. Tall ceilings, tall windows, and tall tales. My ears ring like a dozen bell towers but I press on.
I set up shop at my favorite table. I shuttle geography and history books and surround the edges of the little table creating a mini-fort—mostly to thwart off any invaders. Once, some old grey guy saw me reading sci-fi and he had the nerve to strike up a conversation about it. At the goddamn library. People have no respect for others privacy these days.
Deep in my book cocoon, I dig back into where I left off yesterday in The War of the Worlds. It’s starting to get good.
Ring-a-ding-ding. Sinatra did have some good tunes. Dad used to play them around the house before he up and died last June and left me and mom with Hank’s dumb ass.
I place a finger in my right ear and shake it vigorously. Like a dog scratching at flees. Damn dogs have been barking up a storm all over the neighborhood since yesterday morning. Maybe they’ve been inflicted with the same ailment—the show-tune-disease. I hope to God it’s nothing serious.
A blast of wind pummels the library. The windows stop streaming mid-morning sun. Reading in crappy weather is fun but I can’t concentrate past a sentence or two anyway.
I set the book down in the boring literature-mini-fort.
Behind me, some guy has his hands over his ears. Another strong blast shudders the library. The lights flicker. I can hear a woman let out a scream, well more like a yelp. Get a grip lady, it’s only a summer storm.
The lights go out. Don’t know why they have them on in the daytime in the first place.
Hey! The ringing in my ears stopped. So has the wind. Everything is now quiet. I see people running for the doors. Jesus, calm down people. I join them but at much more leisurely pace.
A group has gathered outside. Some lady, probably the one that screamed earlier, is running to her car.
No way. In the sky—a freaking flying saucer. A bonafide UFO. The War of the Worlds can wait. I walk towards it, well more like underneath it. It’s only about fifty meters up, a metallic silver disk with green blinking lights.
“Hey kid, stay back!” some old guy yells.
I hold up my hand to show him it’s alright. These guys don’t know how well versed I am in these matters. I’ve nearly read half the science fiction paperbacks in the library.
A green light engulfs me. I’m gently pulled upwards. I look down on the crowd. They’re waving their arms and yelling—or I assume they’re yelling—I can’t hear anything but a faint fizzle.
Whatever awaits me up there can’t be worse than the idiots down there.
This is my entry for @mctiller's 24-hour short story contest with the prompt: A man driven mad by a ringing in his ears discovers it’s an alien signal. And he isn’t the only one who can hear it.
This prompt proved quite challenging. I read it Monday but couldn't come up with a story idea and I'm usually decent at getting at least some kind of general idea fairly quickly. Later that day I visited the library and took the above photo. I thought about some ideas but none of them stuck.
In the evening I looked at the photo and slowly an idea formed. Tuesday morning I pondered some more, took notes/brainstormed and finally got down to writing. A few edits and some rewriting later and here we are.
I hope you enjoyed the story.