The Email(Christopher Long) It was Sunday morning when I came across a curious email, the subject was: Alien Invasion. I had been replying to friends, when the appearance of this out of place email made me stop, as no one believed in Extra-Terrestrials anymore. Cases of this nature, had now all been proven to be hoaxes. People witnessing Unidentified Flying Objects, UFOs, were crackpots, drunks or just wanted their five minutes of fame. Even the people whose job was to investigate these phenomena, had all been discredited. The only place where UFOs and the paranormal were tolerated was in film. At least paranormal phenomena were still lucrative. On closer inspection of the email, two things struck me as odd. It was sent by someone unknown to me, “Jeff Morrison'', and it was dated from several years in the future: “This must be some kind of error,” I thought. Despite this, the subject intrigued me. I clicked and waited for it to open.

It seemed to be suggesting that aliens were real. Who had written this? How did it get through my email filter? It sounded like a plot of a sci-fi film. On the last line it even warned about an alien invasion. The idea was ridiculous, whoever Jeff Morrison was, he was clearly delusional. I was just about to delete it, when I decided to print it out. It would be great to share with my friends. Despite the awful spelling, it was an humorous anecdote to share over a drink next Friday at the Neon Banana.

On Friday evening, I put on my favourite black coat and went to the bar. The interior was typical of an American diner: jukebox at one end, harsh neon lighting and booths lining the walls. My friends waved me over. “Graham! Welcome!” said Pam, who was already on her third drink. “Right on time take a seat,” Michael and Lorraine just smiled at me and nodded. After ordering drinks, we talked for a while about nothing in particular, then I brought up the email. “Guys I found this strange email on my computer last Sunday.” “Graham, we do not wish to know about the contents of your dodgy emails, thank you,” said Lorraine, as she sarcastically rolled her eyes. Everyone else laughed. I pulled the printout out of my pocket and handed it to them. It went silent for a few minutes as they passed it around, when suddenly they all burst into fits of laughter. “Just throw it in the bin and forget about it,” Lorraine remarks. Which is what I did.

Life carried on as normal, but eventually something changed. The news began to report fiction rather than facts. The appearance of crop circles and people being abducted, now dominated the headlines. Interviews with the abductees, farm animals going missing, and even reports of UFOs. At first, people tolerated it, thinking that in time, the news would start to report proper stories again. However, the reports didn’t stop but only increased in frequency. People became angry, including myself, and complained a lot; we even signed online petitions to stop this nonsense being reported. As a direct result of our intervention, the reports slowed, then stopped. It was soon forgotten and people moved on, till today… four weeks later.

I wake up late, after a night at the Neon Banana, to hear the sound of excited voices outside. I pull the curtains back to see what the commotion is. A crowd had gathered around an object, from this distance it looks like a saucer. “What was in those drinks? I must be hallucinating,” I think. I go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. When I take another look outside, I am mystified to see a figure standing in front of the saucer. I hurry to my front door to get a better look at what is happening, just in time to hear people in the crowd saying: “Great costume!”, “Can I get a selfie with you? My friend will be so jealous!”. Watching from the safety of my doorway, I see the figure of a slim grey alien. Moments later, it raises a gun and fires into the unsuspecting crowd, who only now realise their stupidity. They run for cover, some make it, others are vaporised. All that is left of them, are piles of ash. People scream. I am horrified by what I am witnessing and let out an involuntary retching sound. The alien hears me.

Looking around for the source of the noise, noticing me, it fires. There is unbearable pain as I get hit, I look down and see the flesh on my side is melting away. I hurriedly shut the door, just as another shot impacts it, blowing a hole straight through, splintering the wood. “Great, that was brand new,” I remark to myself, “I need to help somehow, but how? Well there is something I could try, but it’s a long shot.”

The pain is getting worse. Moving as quickly as I can to my computer, with the sound of the world coming to an end ringing in my ears, I type and press “send”, silently praying that this time it will work.

A few seconds later, somewhere far away and peaceful, a computer received a new email...

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