What is that sound? It's echoing throughout the whole world. As though God were walking through the valley of death.

The sound is everywhere at once. Where is it going? Everyone is running in different directions. Trying to find shelter.

The sound grows sharper, more pronounced, higher pitched. The earth shakes. My ears bleed. Can't concentrate. Dizzy. Falling.

Darkness. Headache. The sound. It's the sink. It's leaking.

I'm in bed. Why is that drip so loud? Migraine? Me?

I've never had one before. This pain is excruciating, my eyes feel like nails have been embedded. Have to call out sick.

The same old nightmare-

stench of burning hair,

flash of yellow light,

old floorboards that creak,

the taste of warm blood,

the ghost of rope burns.

Abruptly conscious,

quick, short, rasping breaths

and the trem-bl-ing.

Always the shivers.

Images that hide,

ever out of reach.

Fear of remembrance,

denial of the bonds

that have enslaved me.

Peace-of-mind deludes,

always so draining!

Is there no reprieve?

"...what you see,

this frothing

and foaming,

tempest tossed

turbulence

reflects us-

Man-unwell.

We'll remain

thus, unless

we decide

to end it.

The hatred,

apathy,

the disdain.

Until we

choose to change,

all is lost..."

This note is to update you on how I've been. I know that you don't actually care. In fact, with you it's out of sight, out of mind. I firmly believe that you don't remember the torture that you put me through, unless it conjures images designed to amuse you.

The scars have never healed. You've left your marks. Physical. Emotional. Mental. Spiritual. Sorry if I'm boring you. I'll be brief. My hope is that you're still reading.

There are days when I wake up to a deeply seeded desire to hunt you down, torture you, then watch you slowly die by my hand. I imagine the look on your face as you come to realize that you are reaching your end.

Would you beg for mercy? Would you apologize? Would you dare ask, "Why!?"

It suffices to write that from this moment on I am,

Your Shadow

Consciousness. Cool breeze. Birdsong. Wet grass. Eyes hurt. Their sun is too bright. I have to sit up. The skin grew in nicely. Male, I believe. Twenty digits in all; five at each foot, five at each hand. The shortest of each hand designed differently. Useful for wrapping around objects. I must rise. Get to know the immediate surroundings.

The sound of running water. Must be a stream or brook. Good. I can wash off the amniotic fluid. First let me bury the pod.

-------

The elders chose a remote location for my transformation. This will help me to join their society quietly. Now to the water.

Cold. Someone approaches. There, that rock.

-------

"Who is he?" Whispered Anita. He's bleeding. Must have hit his head against that rock. Check his pulse."

"Hold this. Keep it pointed at him. If he moves, shoot."

"Oh, papa! He's vulnerable. I doubt he even has the strength to protect himself. Someone must have robbed him of his possessions and left him for dead. Go. Check his pulse."

Flutter eyelids as Papa touches me. Move slowly. Do not scare them. They will help me to assimilate.

"Are you alright?" Jonathan watched as the stranger pulled away slowly. "We won't hurt you."

Look at Anita, the weapon that she holds.

"Anita, point that thing to the ground, please."

"Oh, sorry! Hi. I'm Anita. This is Jonathan. Are you okay to move?"

I do not know their language. Not yet. I will move back slightly to feign fear.

"Papa, give him your overcoat. He must be freezing!"

"Come. Give me your hand. Let me pull you out of the water. That's it. Careful not to slip. Here put this on."

Anita puts the riffle on the grass. She tears a part of her skirt near the hem, wets it and gently wipes away the blood on the left side of his head.

Jonathan picks up the riffle and walks to the red pickup truck. Anita takes the stranger by the hand and leads him to the back of the truck, climbing in first, then helping him in. They sit across from each other. A slight jolt let's each know that the truck is moving.

Anita looks at the man's toes and slowly works her sight up his chins, noticing strong, defined calves. The rest of him hid inside the coat. Only his masculine hands, neck and head were exposed. His sandy blonde, curly hair moved like fire in the wind above his eyes. Anita was not sure of their color. At the water they appeared blue. Now they're a shade of yellow.

"What's your name?"

Clearly they are kind. I am glad that I did not have to kill them. I must begin the learning process.

Pointing at her he said, "Anita."

She laughs. "No. That's my name. What's yours?"

Close my eyes. Touch where I hit my head. Sigh deeply, slowly.

"Oh! You don't know. Amnesia? Do you have amnesia?" She stands up at the back of the truck while it still moves. She's comfortable and secure as she leans over the side to talk to her father.

"Papa? We should take him to the doctor."

Jonathan points to the red house. Doctor Lee Meriwether brought Anita into the world. Unfortunately, he could not save her mother.

-------

"Who do we have here?" Dr. Meriwether measures only four feet, ten inches, but his heart had room for the whole world. He took the stranger by both hands and stared directly into his eyes.

Signaling with his left hand he said, "Come. Sit." The stranger complies.

An examination. How invasive will they be? I hope this camouflage proves successful or they will have to die.

The doctor reaches into his lab coat pocket and pulls out a small flashlight. After flashing both eyes, he touches the stranger under his chin checking where the lymph nodes should be. Next, he gently opens the overcoat, breathes onto the part that would touch his patient and listens to the heartbeat. He demonstrates deep breathing

Anita steps outside of the examination room. She tells herself that the patient needs his privacy, but she became flustered from catching a glimpse of his anatomy. At the waiting room, she fans herself with one of the outdated magazines.

The doctor taps his patient's knees and lightly scratches the soles of his feet with a wooden tongue depressor. Lastly, he takes his temperature and checks for the blood pressure.

-------

Jonathan had stayed during the exam. He wanted to make sure that the doctor was unharmed. As the doctor closed the overcoat, Jonathan stepped into the waiting room.

"How'd it go?"

"Doc's done. We'll know soon."

"Yes. All seems just fine. I've dressed the woumd, given him a pair of scrubs and clogs. His vitals seem textbook, which, given his head wound, there should be a slight elevation, but he is physically fit. That may be helping him to remain stable."

The stranger steps into the waiting room looking like a medical employee. His head wrapped, only the curls above his brow were visible.

Sustenance. This body must feed. Not just water.

"Anita."

The stranger falls forward into Jonathan's arms. The doctor helps them to a nearby chair. Anita runs to get a plastic cup and fills it from the dispenser. She hands it over and he gulps it down. He holds it to her as if to ask for more. She takes it from him and refills it, handing it back to him. He guzzles down some more.

"He may be hungry."

"Doctor is it alright if we take him off your hands?" Jonathan suggests the restaurant at the end of the street. The three of them sit to steak and potatoes. The stranger holds up the empty dish.

"Papa, I think he wants more."

"Oh, he wants more, for sure!"

They feed him dessert, apple pie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Once done, he sits back and takes a deep cleansing breath.

Sleep. I must sleep to rejuvenate.

"Anita," he whispers with his eyes closed.

"Let's get him to the farm. We'll put him in the apartment above the garage."

"That's such a good idea, papa!"

At the doctor's office, Lee calls the sheriff letting him know what little information there was about the newcomer. "At the farm. That's right. He may have amnesia. After a good night's rest we may find out more. Let's go up tomorrow morning after breakfast. We can question him then."

-------

Their moon is high in the sky, full and bright. I will be able to hunt without impediments. Removing these -what did Anita call it, pa ja ma- will help me to move with all speed.

Opaque. My new flesh is opaque against the moonlight. I'll have to keep this in mind during my interactions with these people.

I sense you, even before I caught your scent. Succulent. Warm blooded. I will have to ask Anita the name. To the kill!

-++++++

"Papa, papa!"

"What is it, sweetheart! Are you alright?"

"It's the piglet. Somehow it escaped the pigpen. Oh, I hope it's okay."

"Sweetheart! If it escaped and was wandering around at night, I don't have much hope."

As she dabbs her eyes, she welcomes her father's embrace. They turn at the sound of their new house guest's footsteps. He slowly walks down the steps. "Anita."

His eyes red with anger and confusion at seeing her tears. He gently reaches towards her face and touches her. Empathy causes his eyes to leak. She separates from her father and touches his wet cheek. She feels the connection between them. He learns the word tears.

I have injured Anita. I will never do it again.

"Anita. Tears."

As they touch, images flood the stranger. Anita and the birth of the piglet. Anita as she feeds and cares for it as if it was her own. He feels her love for the animal. Feels her loss. Her compassion for him though they only just met.

This creature is empathic such as my people. Female; her anatomy is different. Does papa-Jo-na-tan feel as she feels?

Hazel eyes locked on Jonathan. Captivating, hypnotizing, rendering motionless. Jonathan never felt the hand on his cheek, only the tears that flowed against his face. He knew that they belong to Anita. At the same time, he now knows that the visitor is not of this planet. The three, Anita, Jonathan and the creature became one; in heartbeat, in breath, in emotion, in thought.

"How is it that I can speak your language never having visited your planet?" Jonathan was the first to speak once the visitor removed his hands from their faces.

"This is how we learn. By becoming one. Now we know all about each other. I could not speak your language until I touched you. Anita, I apologize for eating Mr. Snout."

"I understand why you did it. Knowing is comforting. I will be alright."

"Where I am from creatures such as Mr. Snout are food. They do not posses sentience."

"I promise that I understand."

"Your world will expire soon. Seventy billion sentient beings with cease to exist in a flash. The black hole will swallow your entire galaxy." Jonathan felt the sorrow eminating from Uno.

"Uno, there is not enough time to save all of your galaxy. Your planet is the only one with the capability of space travel. Replacing us is inhumane." Anita is on the verge of tears again.

"When I connected with you and Jonathan, it made me aware that you are sentient beings, like us. Your planet, Venus, will be the next logical choice. Our grandchildren will be the ones to be able to live on the planet surface. By then, our technology will be able to transform Venus to suit our needs. As to the other sixty-five billion at my galaxy, scientists are collecting the genetic markers necessary for replanting at some distant future."

The three stare at the horizon. Uno stands between Anita and Jonathan. They hold hands and quietly weep.

Tears stream unnoticed.

Salted river carrying

unanswered prayers.

He doesn't understand that

his actions are his downfall.

Work is full of distraction.

The fire alarm loudly

screams, agitating all.

The sitting room explodes with

sounds as patients react.

Screams, moans, some take to hitting.

I whisper to my client,

"I'm here. We're going to wait

for instructions from the nurse."

He takes a deep cleansing breath.

Staff members scream at patients

that stand ready for battle,

that soil themselves, that laugh, cry.

The head-nurse now emerging

with a tired look exclaims,

"False alarm! Let's remain calm!"

Slamming her office door, she

wishes the bedlam away.

Shape-shifter's

sauntering

sway seems cruel

until I

see her victim.

The man she

eviscerated,

her abuser.