Black Belt
Too Close for Comfort
I am lying in bed, half-naked, half-asleep, dead tired, and full of fear. I am only 10, so my small hands can’t grip the mattress with the same white-knuckled zeal of a 21-year-old. My heart flutters across my ribcage like a cornered bat; my stomach, hostage to its own acids, churns in terror. My eyelids struggle to stay open as my eyes dart to and fro, the vision of my dusky bedroom constantly shifting before me. But release is not an option, for sleep is when they come. The saucer-shaped ships with no doors or windows. The small men with gray skin and black eyes. The white light. The...
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