AS I TURNED to my right, I saw that the desert sky was filled with stars in every direction. Except one. Above the eastern mountains, there was a… hole in the sky. A hole that was moving closer and getting larger and larger by the second.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at full, parade-ground attention.
The object hovering about fifty feet above me was black as the night itself, and about the size of a football stadium. I don’t know who started that UFO saucer nonsense, but they must have been nearsighted. This ship was undoubtedly rectangular, like a Dumpster. Or a giant coffin.
It just hung there above us, ominously floating. There was a disturbance in the air as some kind of energy field pulsated loudly across its massive length.
Then a telescopic column, possibly an elevator, dropped from its belly into the ground.
Some of the kids started crying, and I called out, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing. It’s probably just E.T.”
The elevator thingy landed less than thirty feet from where I stood. A hydraulic hum followed. Then a doorway opened.
Inside, a particularly huge and ugly horse-head in a black uniform was smiling, showing cobralike teeth.
“Hey there, kiddies. Want to go for a ride, huh-huh-huh?” he said in a pretty good imitation of SpongeBob SquarePants.
All of us abductees stared at the alien in the doorway. Then we stared at each other. And then, as if we’d finally reached a silent consensus, we started to scream at the top of our lungs.