Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Are we alone?

Not that I'd need to be sitting at Harvard discussing alien life...

The dark shadows play out in the evening's vesper light. Neighborhood children explore the woods near the homes, adventuring into the underbrush as the summer sun sets casting a pink across the sky. Then the night sounds come alive from the woods, and fireflies bob in the small clearing. The children -- six, seven, eight, nine years old -- stumble out of the woods and into the clearing. And there, in the midst of the sentinel trees stands a bright metal object the size of a small bus. The dozen children scatter, scampering back through the woods to the safety of their golden-lit homes... except for one, who stands at the edge of the clearing, heart trembling as he stares the silver beast. There's a movement, a rustle, a shadow of a small person; the boy's bravery fades with the sunlight. He turns tail and runs, crashing through the woods to return to the safety of his father's arms.

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