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Author’s Note: Some stories come from dreams. This one came from a cracked window, a flickering light, and the kind of argument you can only have with yourself when the world’s gone quiet.

Aliens of the Eighth Level is a tale of paranoia, shadows, and voices that don’t always stay in your head. If you’ve ever wondered what happens when the last two minds in the building start to turn on each other — this one’s for you.

Read with the lights on. Or don’t. They’ll find you either way.

Aliens of the Eighth Level

“When the eagles are silent,

the Parrots begin to jabber.

~ Winston Churchill

**********

“Quiet!”

“Why?”

“Aliens!”

“Where?  I don’t see ‘em.”

“They’re always here.  Can’t let ‘em find us.”

“You’re mad!”

“Stop pantin’?  They’ll hear!”

“No they won’t, ’cause no one’s here.  Besides, might well as tell me to stop my heart from beatin’!  I tell you, you’re certifiable.  Yer a fruitcake.”

“Shut up!  I told you ta never say that; you know it makes me mad!”

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’ – yer mad!”

“I could kill you fer that.  It’ll save them from havin’ ta do the job when they find us!”

“You’d never hurt me.  You wouldn’t survive without me.  You haven’t done anything by yourself since I’ve known you.  I’m all the time gettin’ you out a jams.”

“Yeah?  You?  Sure, it’s always you.  Clam up and shut yer pie-hole I tell you.  They’re gonna hear.  I ain’t gonna warn ya no more!”

“Oh, scared I am.  What are you going to do?  Geez, I mean, look at you.  You’re nothing but a poor excuse for a man.  Naw, I take that back, you’re not even close to a poor excuse.”

“Shut up I tell you!!!”

“Go ahead, get mad.  Cry your lungs out for all I care.  You know they’ll hear you.  Know what they’ll do?  They’ll waste you like they did the others.  They’ll zap you, they will.  You want that?  They’ll have you writhing, thrashing around . . . till you’re twistin’ and convulsin’ in pain.  You’ll be beggin’ for mercy.  Go ahead.  Scream.  I dare you. 

“Yeah, they’ll get you . . . strap you down . . . poke . . . prod . . . zap, zap, zap till you vaporize.  Just like the others.  Come on, yell, scream, shriek, laugh!  See what good it’ll do.  I’m waiting.  Get it over with!”

“How’d you know what happened to the others?”

“I could be one of ‘em, you bet I could be.  But I’m not, ya know.  I saw what they did ta the others.  I watched it all.  I was hidin’ in the dark shadows, silently watching.  I saw, and yes, I heard everything . . . the screamin’, the torment, the agony.  They want you now and they want you real bad.  Know that?”

“Ahhgg!!  They’ll get you too, ya know.  Just ‘cause yer always lurkin’ in the shadows doesn’t mean they won’t ever see ya!  I know yer smarter than me ‘cause ya never let me see ya, but they will, they will, sure they will!”

“No, they won’t see me and they won’t touch me.  In fact they don’t know I exist.  Like I told you, I’m careful, real careful.  I was around when they caught the others; they never knew.  I know for a fact they’ve been after you for some time now.  Sooner or later they’ll get ya.  And when they do they’ll finish you off good, they will. 

“Think about it, we’re the only two of our kind left.  There must have been at least two-dozen of us when they came.  The others went fast, now I’m stuck with the feeble likes of you.  Why couldn’t you have been one of the first to go?”

“You’re sick, ya know?  Why are you turnin’ on me now?  Why?  We always got along fine before.  That’s, till the others came along.  Ya got more involved with them, yes you did.  Almost forgot ‘bout me, ya did!”

“Them?  Yeah, but I was the first to join up with you. Got the others to follow too, I did.  I got involved ‘cause I wanted to survive.  I figured the more we had on our side, the more power we had against them aliens or whatever they are.  The others listened to me.  They listened to me; they never listened to you.  Doesn’t that tell you somethin’ about yourself?”

“What do you mean, something about myself?”

“All I’m saying is that you were alone before I came.  The others wouldn’t come near you.  I had to push them to be friendly.  You stupid?  You couldn’t see?  Being a whiner isn’t bad enough, but you gotta be stupid too?”

“They woulda joined me even if you weren’t around.  They woulda been my friends, but you, you forced ‘em away from me”

“Whatever!  Think that way in your mad, twisted head.  See where it gets you.  You had nothin’ to offer them.  Besides, you . . . the others . . . all of you together couldn’t stand up to THEM without me!”

“No one that faced them aliens ever lived to tell about it.  All of them others you know, they all just disappeared!”

“Like I told you, I could be one of them . . . a scout sent to get you maybe!  Why’d ya think I survived this long without ‘em knowing I’m here?

“You ain’t one of ‘em.  I can tell.  You say you’d never wear white.  They always wear white.  I ain’t never seen one of ‘em in anything but.  Day in, day out, head to toe they’re in white.  Bright, ultra-white.  It’s a uniform with ‘em.  Besides, they’re not afraid ta walk around in the open.  You always stick to shadows.  You stay where no one can see.  Naw, I know you ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Never know, I could be a smart one.  Sooner or later, when you’re not looking I might get you.”

“Don’t talk like that, yer creepin’ me out.  Yer getting’ to me, I tell ya STOP!  If you don’t stop I’ll, I’ll . . . ”

“You’ll what?  You won’t do diddley-squat.  You know it!”

“I’ll give you what for is what.  I know, yea, I might just toss you outta this window!  Yeah, you’ll bounce real nice off the sidewalk down there.  That’ll fix ya good, real good!!”

“You don’t have the guts.  Besides, it’ll cause a racket.  They’ll hear you.  You’ll be finished!”

“At least you’ll be gone!”

“You need me.  You know that so stop yer whining.”

“That’s it, I’ve had enough.”

“Look at yourself, snivellin’ like a schoolgirl on her first date.  The beads of sweat drooling down your forehead give you away.  If I said boo, you’d probably wet yerself.  You’re bluffing.  We both know it.”

“We’ll see who’s snivelling’.”

“It ain’t me.  Go ahead, just try to toss me out the window, you’ll be dead as me because they’ll hear you.  And if they don’t, you’ll end up dyin’ from loneliness.”

“I’ll chance that.  I don’t need you.  Never have!  Take a deep breath ‘cause it’ll be yer last! Got ya!  Happy landing!”

.

.

.

“CRASH!!!!!!!!”

Epilogue—

He was found in a twisted heap, spine bent in ways no bones bend.  A pool of blood stretched like a halo around his broken head, after having fallen from the eighth floor of the asylum. The coroner zipped the black bag. His wagon departed with the mutilated remains. Two elderly aides were on their knees with bleach and mops as they cleaned the bloodied walkway.

“Well, Mary Bell” said one, scraping blood from a cracked tile, “Poor sod’s finally at rest.  Least he won’t be jabbering about those all those voices in his head no more. Poor ol’ guy.” “Yeah Tilley,” said the other. “Lotta company up there in that crazy head of his. 

Post Script:  The Jabber Still Talks

Late at night, the vents still whisper. They say the eighth-floor talks to itself. And some nights, if you press your ear to the wall, you can still hear two voices arguing. Only one of them ever answers.

**********

If the voices in the vents weren’t enough, let’s check in on someone who’s already crossed over and still can’t catch a break. Turns out the afterlife has its own set of problems

**********

AFTERLIFE CONCERNS

My soul grows weak,

I walk alone

among the many tombs;

I was a mortal recently,

but now I must assume

that yesterday passed tragically,

all that does remain

are bones and skin;

no lifeless blood goes

rushing through my veins.

Perhaps my death was meant to be.

the facts I can’t recall.

Events of only yesterday

mean not a thing at all.

For that which may have happened,

To me, of most concern,

is not that I have left this earth,

it’s being eaten by the worms.

A vital man was I in life,

but now – not that it counts,

the container I reside in

won’t keep the bed bugs out.

They crawl right in and settle down,

no fear of any kind.

They dance and sing the night away,

they party on my spine.

Here perhaps my soul would rest,

maybe get a little sleep,

but all I do is toss and turn,

picking spiders from my teeth.

In one ear and out the next

this feeling I despise.

When I think they’re done and gone from me

gnats wiggle in my eyes.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,

the phrase I understand to mean

that after living life and doing deeds,

my soul would sleep all eternity,

not giving a heed or care

to any living creature

residing in my hair.

I thought death would bring me slumber,

no worry and no pain.

I did not think by dying,

I would offer my remains

to creepy slugs and little bugs,

which go bump throughout the night.

The tiny critters are very grateful,

for they have a home tonight.

**********

Author’s Note: I always figured death would be restful. Turns out, it’s just another kind of inconvenience.

Afterlife Concerns is a poetic complaint from someone who expected eternal peace and got bugs in his teeth instead. It’s dark, it’s funny, and it’s exactly the kind of thing you’d expect from a man who can’t stop swatting gnats from his eye sockets.

If you’ve ever worried about what comes next — don’t. It’s probably worse than you imagined.

**********

Thanks for reading this peculiar double feature — Aliens of the Eighth Level and Afterlife Concerns. Whether you’re dodging voices in the vents or brushing gnats from your ghostly eye sockets, I’m glad you stopped by.

If you enjoyed these stories, feel free to leave a comment, share the post, or whisper it to the nearest shadow. And if you haven’t subscribed yet, you can join the list at theboyleblogs.com — it’s free, and you’ll get a heads-up whenever something new drops.

More oddities are on the way. Stay peculiar.