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Fourth Kind
Topic Started: May 10 2012, 09:50 AM (462 Views)
Narration
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April 13th
2300 Hours
Point Pleasant, Ohio



It was, as was commonplace, a quiet night in Point Pleasant. The town had never been particularly bustling, never particularly empty. It was close knit and everyone knew everyone else. Despite a fair bit of myth surrounding the place and one community tragedy decades ago the town and it's people were a fairly normal and expect-able lot, a picture perfect print of small-town America.

It was Sunday Night, and a patrol car sat in the lot of a gas station, its occupants discussing sports and highlights of the town's Spring Festival that had ended only an hour prior.

Not far off, in a home that had seen its share of woes over the past few years, a family lay sleeping, save for one. The daughter shot out of bed, screaming.

It wasn't long before her father arrived, flipping on the light in the room and rushing to her side to comfort her. What's a matter, honey?" He asked with gentle tone, brushing hair out of her face.

"Monsters." She said before clinging to him, eyes teary.

"Oh, Becka, honey." He said, pulling her out of bed and heading out to the hall. "There's no such thing as monsters, honey." He flipped the light switch as he moved his daughter to his room. She could sleep with her parents tonight.

In the dark of Rebecca McCarthy's room, two eyes appeared in the black, yellow and burning.

On the other end of town, midnight factory workers sat outside on break in a Gazebo that was packed too full for any sort of comfort. Some smoked, others ate their lunches. All of them conversed, telling jokes and anecdotes and discussing just how incredibly mundane life in these parts seemed to be any more, especially in contrast with the rest of the world.

"Hey, I for one am glad. My friend moved to New York a few years back and I doubt he's gotten any good sleep since. Too weird for me. I'll keep to dirt roads, thank you very much."

A resounding cacophony of agreement ushered forth from his compatriots.

Several yards away, in the tall grass beyond the factory's property, vague shapes moved amongst the night-shine of the moon, their stirrings silent and laced heavily with purpose.

"I don't see what anyone sees in that lady." Said Officer Roscos as he took a sip of his coffee. "She wins that damn award every year and every year people act surprised."

"Well," Said Officer Sauers with a chuckle. "She's banging the Mayor so I don't think anyone's half as surprised as they tend to be."

"Amen to that." Said Roscos. "Say you see that new girl at the station? Phew, what an ass on that one."

He jumped as his radio sparked to life. "This is Monroe County dispatch..."

Some sort of home invasion called in through 911. The cruisers lights and sirens roared to life as it began it's breakneck journey to the other end of town.

At the factory, the workers in the gazebo were headed inside when something became apparent, a rustling behind them.

"Did you hear all that?"

"Sure did."

"Just the wind."

"The wind isn't blowing..."

Rebecca McCarthy's mother stroked a gentle finger across her daughter's eyebrow, humming a little song. Mr. McCarthy had already fallen asleep, but his daughter was having troubles.

"Mommy, the Monsters don't care if you're sleeping. Danny told me so!"

"Becka, your brother's just being a meanie. Monster's aren't real."

"Then who are they?" Her daughter pointed. Mrs. McCarthy turned to see and screamed.

"Hello?" Shouted Office Roscos as he banged at the door of their call. Point Plesant Police Department. We got a call here."

Sauers met up with him. "Nothing at the back either. Dispatch just sent out another call. Someone heard screaming at Jeremy McCarthy's place."

"Oh what the hell." said Roscos. He banged on the door again. "Point Pleasant Pol-URK!" Something hit him in the back. Roscos looked down at the clawed hand protruding from his chest. He turned his gaze long enough to watch Sauers fade from the man he'd been speaking to all night and grow into some strange green shape, it's bladed smile cruel and vicious.

And then the two of them vanished.

And then those at the factory vanished.

And then the McCarthy's vanished one and all.

And within the sweep of a few moments a town was depopulated. No signs of struggle nor battle. No more screams, either of pain or protest.

When the sun rose on Point Pleasant the next day, it rose on a ghost town. The birds chirped happily, ignorant to what had transpired.

Four thousand gone in a span of minutes.

The War had begun.
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Narration
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April 27th
Late Afternoon
New York City Harbors



It had set out from New York Seven days prior. Families both new and old, plus a few lonely old souls had sought holiday on the Cruise Ship Miracle out of New York New York. Eight days of fun in the sun, all the way down to the Caribbean Sea, around the islands. Young eyes exposed to rich blue beauty and island fun for the first time. Honeymoons, birthday gifts, family trips.

All for naught.

The Miracle barreled into the harbor.

Port Authority, of course, had attempted to bring it up on radio lines to no avail, shouting over the line for them to pull back their speed. They receive no response, verbal or otherwise, and the massive ship soldiered on, at speed, into New York Harbor.

It had a crew, a very small one dedicated to making sure that it reached its destination.

But there were no men of Earth on the Miracle.

Hours earlier

Chelsea slid down the waterslide and into the pool, nearly colliding feet-first into her father, who picked her up and flew her around like a bird before tossing her wildly into the pool. She surfaced, laughing as she blew water from her mouth, splashing her father in mock anger.

The Day was bright and it was a lovely way to spend the last few hours of a lovely vacation. By five that afternoon they'd be home, and life would be back to boring old normal.

Over at the outdoor dining area, a man, down on his luck at the gambling tables, didn't share that sentiment. He couldn't wait to get off of this rig.

Down in the steerage compartments, men and women essential to the smooth ride so many were enjoying went on and on about their daily lives.

On the Bridge the Captain addressed those he'd been so happy to be sailing with over the past week. He didn't notice as all of the cameras went fuzzy with static.

Then they appeared in the light of day, seemingly out of nowhere, and save for a few moments of shocked gasping and relative quietude, the ship erupted into terror.

Green and black figures ran here and there, wrapping odd gangly arms around everyone, women, children. Of course they tried to fight, but none of them lasted long before they were gone.

As fast as the chaos had begun, it was over, the ship empty save for a skeleton crew of figures not of this world.

The Present

"Miracle, do you copy, stop, now! You're going to ram the docks!"

No response came; those who had guided the ship to port had already left. The Black Box was gone, any evidence of their presence eliminated. The Ship, massive and careening several dozen knots above acceptable speed, collided with the dockyard in a massive roar of bending metal and shattering concrete, a shriek filling the area as it slowly ground to a halt, it's propellers protesting as they tried fruitlessly to soldier the water bound behemoth forwards.

There was nothing left on board of the people who had boarded that ship, nor was there anything left of their captors.
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