Invasion of the Melon Men - Writers Forum

lemonavenue · 02-17-2008, 08:42 PM

Here's something I wrote in my senior year of high school, just after reading Ender's Game. I've only been active on this site for three days but, as some of you have already noticed, I am very argumentative and my critiques are "thorough" to put it lightly. So here's a little something for you to take out your frustration: a short science fiction story about two prisioners of intergalatic war written in first-person present.

# of Words: 910
Year Written: 2005
Flavor: Cheesey
Status: Unfinished

When I was a kid I used to love the circus. I remember one time I got to go back stage and I saw a white lion with rose colored eyes pacing in a red and gold embroidered cage. What a magnificent animal, that white lion. That holds in my memory as one of the greatest experiences of my life. I'm twenty-eight now. I feel sorry for the lion.

My partner Larry won't let me go to sleep. He's still tiring to communicate with those bastard aliens. "Larry," I look up from my corner. "Stop it. It can't understand you."

Larry looks back at me. We aren't but three feet apart from each other. Through this entire war I've loved Larry like a brother - despite his stupid jokes. If I had to share this cell with anybody else I think I'd go mad. "They're awfully rude. Watch." He shakes the bars, making the most awful racket. It echoes off the walls and through my body. I want to wince. But the alien just stares, no reflection in its glassy black eyes.

"Hey, E.T.!" Larry taunts. "How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

It does nothing. I can't tell if it’s 'him', 'her', or something in between. So the alien is just an 'it'.

"Hey, alien! Is your refrigerator running? You better go catch it!"

I watch. It watches. For a moment I wonder if this thing is real at all. Since we were dragged down here it hasn't moved an inch. Maybe all this time it’s just been a holo watching over us. But no. I can see it breathing.

"Hey, Elvis!"

"Larry, stop it!" I hush. "You're gonna make it angry."

Larry sighs, slumps down beside me. "Geeze, for an advanced race they sure don't talk much..."

I smile stiffly. At this moment I envy my friend. I don't know how long we've been down in this stinking pit, but I know we aren't getting out. Larry accepted his fate and I'm grateful that he's helped me to accept my own. "Or build very practical jails," I add.

We both laugh and Larry shouts at the stupefied alien, "How about some room service in here? We're hungry! Do you guys get cable?"

I laugh again and Larry smiles. "How's your leg feelin'?"

"Does it matter?"

Larry shrugs and I reply, "Not sure. Doesn't hurt anymore, 'least."

"Well let’s give it a try." He takes my helmet from my lap. A silver bowl with an orange phoenix emblem painted upon the brow. We were flying the last squadron into battle over the enemy planet. In legends the proud phoenix always rises from the ashes of defeat. I doubt we'll live up to our name.

Larry stands me up and a jab of pain shoots up my leg. I wince and stumble, but Larry holds onto me and we slowly sit down again. "Christ!" I groan, closing my eyes to shut out the water. When I open them again the guard is still there. It’s looking at me with its big melon head. Melon men, that's what they are. "Hey you sonofa'bitch, why don't you take a goddamn picture!"

Blinking I look at Larry. He's got his hand on my shoulder, but he ain't saying anything. I quiet down too.

Then, I hear it.

A bunch of them are coming our way. They always seem to move as a group. I remember one time, long before the war, I saw a documentary on silver fish. I was mesmerized by the way they moved. Rather than a random assortment of fish they became one single shimmering organism. I've watched these melon men do the same in battle - incredibly fluid. I've come to despise their dance. The shadow coated melon men come marching in. They don’t speak at all. It’s like watching toy soldiers march by a child’s hand. Before we know it they’ve opened the bars and we’re being ushered through the corridors of the melon hive.

My leg is burning up my side. I clench my teeth and fight a scream. In the distance I can hear Larry shouting at those rotten melon brains. “He’s hurt – he’s hurt! You can’t do that!”

Next thing I know I’m on the ground, blinded by throbbing pain. As I grind my teeth and pinch my nails I suddenly realize how silent everything has gone. I don’t know where I am. The first person I see is Larry, but he’s not looking at me. I call his name, but my voice is strained, and I don’t think he heard me. He’s just like that melon head guarding our cell. Quiet as a mouse and still as a corpse.

Something is crawling down my spine, a thousand insects with ice for feet and daggers on their feelers. The floor is covered in ooze and even if my leg weren’t broken I don’t think I could get up. There is sweetness in the air, not the soothing kind, though. It’s too sweet, and thick. Almost makes me sneeze. Then I look up, and before my eyes is the biggest, ugliest melon of them all! Her enormous black eyes stare down at Larry and I and I can see ourselves in those eyes, like two ghosts looking back at us through a dark mirror. How do I know it’s a she? I’m not sure, all I know is I’m scared.