Hey guys - I'm back, (with a new penname)! Stupid story got deleted after I failed to update it, like, ever! Well, to be fair, I did just move to uni, so writing, not first thing on my mind! But here I am, I'm back, I've slightly redrafted my stories and I sincerely PROMISE to update in the future!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, except the ones I made up!
The sun beat down on the scorched earth. He could feel its intense heat bearing down upon his back. The silence was awesome. Not a single whisper had be heard, everyone had ceased to breathe, caught up in their collective anticipation. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, the ball was heading straight for him. The thought flashed through his mind; should I swing or not? In reality there was no dilemma, of course he would swing. It felt wrong not to.
The ball came. He swung the bat. There was a deafening "crack" as ball and bat connected, and the ball soared out of the park, out of sight. The roar of the crowd filled his ears, adrenaline coursed through his veins, he'd never felt so good in all his life. He began running...
Suddenly, the scene changed. He was running outside, in the fields behind the house. He heard a scream, and saw his brother Graham already there ahead of him. The two men looked at each other, each thinking the same thing; it couldn't be, not again..
Merrill Hess woke up in a cold sweat.
Every night was the same. His dreams started off normally, peacefully, but soon segued into terrifying nightmares. They were ruining his life. He hadn't been able to have a single night's uninterrupted sleep since it had happened. It. Aliens. Even now as he was saying it, it seemed so unreal to him. He found it almost impossible to believe that it had really happened. He knew that it was because it had been too terrible to comprehend, that his brain still told him that it must have been another dream. But he also knew, deep down, that it was real.
He knew that continuing to live there, on the farm, where it had all happened, made it impossible to forget, impossible to move on. He knew that he would have to leave there, or his sanity would continue slipping away, even further out of his reach. But would Graham be able cope without him? Would the kids?
Well, they'll just have to, Merrill reasoned with himself. For a long time now I've been there for him, now I need to do this for me. There's so much I need to clear from my head, not just the invasion, things even from before Colleen's accident. He imagined the look on the kids' faces if he told them he was leaving, and cringed at the thought. He hated to do that to them, and to himself, it would just be too painful.
Then, the thought came to him. He wouldn't make anyone go through that. He would just leave, now. Sneak out while they were still asleep and leave them a note. That way, no-one could talk, or guilt, him out of going, out of doing what he needed to do.
His mind made up, he leapt out of bed and began hurriedly packing (or more accurately, throwing) his belongings into a bag. There wasn't much, his job at the gas station didn't exactly pay enough for Merrill to be able to afford lots of trinkets. He dressed quickly and scribbled a note, explaining where he was going and why, and promising to stay in touch. Then, taking one last look around his room, he picked up his bag and pulled the door closed.
But where to now?
