07/14/2019
* Attention UFOers, Science Fiction Readers, Psychics, Climate Change, & Hurricane Watchers!
This is a “Draft” UFO Short Story, from my 1st book "Ship-Shot Haunted", Stories about leaving Planet Earth.
This one is titled: A 356 Year Old Man
Description: A first-person type of writing with some era language and is based on my speculative, psychic, and telepathic conversations --
1663, Barney was born...
There are seventy-five men from my era of life still living in my neighborhood on this Huge and Beautiful planet, all from a region that we called “High Virginia”. In that time, we walked about in search of cover and food resources which were not scarce, but not available to the long curly haired men. I was especially susceptible because of the golden enlace around each of my cruel ivory buttons. Wool coats in this identity were usually straight from money stealing England, who perpetually wanted the free-lands to be taxed and hacked. So, when I approached simple homesteads or cottage towns, I kept my copper loaded with lead dust. I knew that I was beautiful and grand in my education, above them, but what I had no idea of, was that I was followed, which covered me in irritable and rejectable energy. Having many pointed aches behind my eyes diverted my kind tolerance and I often went to the woods.
My origin as the man that I am started as in South England, where I lived greatly amongst wealth and Kingdom for over thirty-one years. When there was an opportunity to strike bale to the “New Lands,” eighteen fiery single-men decided to jump a wooden sail for adventure alongside, to premium land grab and a book of tales to write. It took only thirty-two days to plan, board, and land freely into the now known name of Boston, or what we then called, “Whale Habour”. After much Tea-Time talk, thirty men who we joined in conversation, returned to England as they had had enough of wide-eyed witchcraft laws, next to the gallows and noose. Myself, I knew that “King of Space” had a hand in all decisions on this green ground for we had seen the mighty light-ships who struck water bombs in front of the mainsail more than once. Myself, I felt the calling to go forward at walk, while others ran back to castle and short lives. By the time I was on rural journey to the lakes of clear waters, I was alone.
Six months of hiking and the flaughty man that I was raised to be, was asleep, and the explorer of navigation and life sounds individual was awake. Wildlife was regularly hunted on the main path, and this left an effect of “fight” amongst territorial lunacy and fear of more poverty. Most of my nights were alone, I had been a pulled single man without intention of marriage or any hustle. My goal was to leave a remembrance of courtesy, and with that, I would find friends and respectable heritage. Sadly, none of this was available and all of my quick bonds dissolved, because a man of healthy pink aura, like me, was not appreciated in a religious hound. I knew that my days were numbered as men with guilt were now winking at my approach, and illustrious women were dissolving their fantasies of a return to King, as if I had the means to rescue.
On an early leafless evening, once again I saw the light-ship in the dew. So many time I had ignored this flash of light towards me, because I knew that my destiny was on planet, not in what could be even more treacherous sky. But, this day, and this light shined orange and pink, and I did not feel the King. I rose up from bird watching to flag their attention and I yell like a hoot and sudden ran fast did I, but the mist embraced my ethics, and I shy. Back in the cottage that was rent, I spent fourth nights drawing and poetry to realize that I did not have any hope of home on our “New Lands” or at home with Glorious King, so I packed my wools and returned to the sight of the loved red bird. In the day of the second wind, I spoke aloud to please have faith in my inner kindness and a grand light did flash, I was so relieved that I closed both eyes and slept.
Awake was my thought, and I mumbled answers to my identity and gave them details of injury, asleep again was my second smile as I remembered that I was a human in life that was not flagrant, but instead one of hostage and mimicry of the insane. Thank you. I chattered, and I ask where are you in whole?
Sixteen minutes of non-sabotage and peace, I saw stars with my planet below. Where are we going great avengers? And sleep did they bestow.
*** A narrator ***
Three years into their vacation flight, sixteen family members with their three dogs and four cats decided to spend two weeks in and out of Planet Earth. There had been a series of small hurricanes and gravity varied enough to allow for a few safe temporary access tops. Upon their first review, there were no King Guard or Robotic Weaponry Craft present, and all are excited at the possibility to make a visual connection, that would inspire populations to look up and realize their abandonment was purposeful and escape would take frequency alterations. All the fastest space ships were years travel away from this world, where human “could be” friends live in mostly amnesia, and when the skies are closed, only flyovers are possible. Today the pull-down in North America, or what is known as the “New World” is allowing us one chance for a rescue, then we are 5 months to home. Earth year, 1694.
--Lori Ann Baker
* Attention UFOers, Science Fiction Readers, Psychics, Climate Change, & Hurricane Watchers!
This is a “Draft” UFO Short Story, from my 1st book "Ship-Shot Haunted", Stories about leaving Planet Earth.
This one is titled: A 356 Year Old Man
Description: A first-person type of writing with some era language and is based on my speculative, psychic, and telepathic conversations --
1663, Barney was born...
There are seventy-five men from my era of life still living in my neighborhood on this Huge and Beautiful planet, all from a region that we called “High Virginia”. In that time, we walked about in search of cover and food resources which were not scarce, but not available to the long curly haired men. I was especially susceptible because of the golden enlace around each of my cruel ivory buttons. Wool coats in this identity were usually straight from money stealing England, who perpetually wanted the free-lands to be taxed and hacked. So, when I approached simple homesteads or cottage towns, I kept my copper loaded with lead dust. I knew that I was beautiful and grand in my education, above them, but what I had no idea of, was that I was followed, which covered me in irritable and rejectable energy. Having many pointed aches behind my eyes diverted my kind tolerance and I often went to the woods.
My origin as the man that I am started as in South England, where I lived greatly amongst wealth and Kingdom for over thirty-one years. When there was an opportunity to strike bale to the “New Lands,” eighteen fiery single-men decided to jump a wooden sail for adventure alongside, to premium land grab and a book of tales to write. It took only thirty-two days to plan, board, and land freely into the now known name of Boston, or what we then called, “Whale Habour”. After much Tea-Time talk, thirty men who we joined in conversation, returned to England as they had had enough of wide-eyed witchcraft laws, next to the gallows and noose. Myself, I knew that “King of Space” had a hand in all decisions on this green ground for we had seen the mighty light-ships who struck water bombs in front of the mainsail more than once. Myself, I felt the calling to go forward at walk, while others ran back to castle and short lives. By the time I was on rural journey to the lakes of clear waters, I was alone.
Six months of hiking and the flaughty man that I was raised to be, was asleep, and the explorer of navigation and life sounds individual was awake. Wildlife was regularly hunted on the main path, and this left an effect of “fight” amongst territorial lunacy and fear of more poverty. Most of my nights were alone, I had been a pulled single man without intention of marriage or any hustle. My goal was to leave a remembrance of courtesy, and with that, I would find friends and respectable heritage. Sadly, none of this was available and all of my quick bonds dissolved, because a man of healthy pink aura, like me, was not appreciated in a religious hound. I knew that my days were numbered as men with guilt were now winking at my approach, and illustrious women were dissolving their fantasies of a return to King, as if I had the means to rescue.
On an early leafless evening, once again I saw the light-ship in the dew. So many time I had ignored this flash of light towards me, because I knew that my destiny was on planet, not in what could be even more treacherous sky. But, this day, and this light shined orange and pink, and I did not feel the King. I rose up from bird watching to flag their attention and I yell like a hoot and sudden ran fast did I, but the mist embraced my ethics, and I shy. Back in the cottage that was rent, I spent fourth nights drawing and poetry to realize that I did not have any hope of home on our “New Lands” or at home with Glorious King, so I packed my wools and returned to the sight of the loved red bird. In the day of the second wind, I spoke aloud to please have faith in my inner kindness and a grand light did flash, I was so relieved that I closed both eyes and slept.
Awake was my thought, and I mumbled answers to my identity and gave them details of injury, asleep again was my second smile as I remembered that I was a human in life that was not flagrant, but instead one of hostage and mimicry of the insane. Thank you. I chattered, and I ask where are you in whole?
Sixteen minutes of non-sabotage and peace, I saw stars with my planet below. Where are we going great avengers? And sleep did they bestow.
*** A narrator ***
Three years into their vacation flight, sixteen family members with their three dogs and four cats decided to spend two weeks in and out of Planet Earth. There had been a series of small hurricanes and gravity varied enough to allow for a few safe temporary access tops. Upon their first review, there were no King Guard or Robotic Weaponry Craft present, and all are excited at the possibility to make a visual connection, that would inspire populations to look up and realize their abandonment was purposeful and escape would take frequency alterations. All the fastest space ships were years travel away from this world, where human “could be” friends live in mostly amnesia, and when the skies are closed, only flyovers are possible. Today the pull-down in North America, or what is known as the “New World” is allowing us one chance for a rescue, then we are 5 months to home. Earth year, 1694.
--Lori Ann Baker
