Deeney - An Alien called, Robert

An Alien called, Robert

Copyright 2015 James J. Deeney

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, photography, filming, recording, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, or shall not by way of trade or otherwise be lent, resold, or otherwise circulated in any All rights reserved. No part of this book may be utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, James J. Deeney. The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

CHAPTER ONE

I t had slept at the bottom of the dark brown waters of an Irish lough for over a thousand years. Now it woke.

A thousand years and eighty-one days and four hours ago, it had reached a solar system ten billion miles from earth. An unknown type of space radiation that caused the exploratory craft to quickly disintegrate had bombarded it. The revolutionary space craft, had been the size of a cathedral. The alien's three companions had died screaming in agony.

On a misty September night, the safety bulb, it had managed to squeeze into, had several days later burst through earth's atmosphere. The alien had drifted into a deep recuperating sleep almost at the same time as the safety vessel hit the water. It sank slowly to the bottom of the wide lough. It had taken the bulb a month to cool. By then the alien was in a sleep not unlike death. Now it needed help for it knew it would surface soon.

****

C onor woke. He frowned as the voice buzzed in his head.

'Come Con-or I need your help.'

Violently shaking his head from side to side, the twelve years old boy sat up. His frown deepened as the voice came again.

'I need your help, Con-or.

It must be my radio, thought Conor, reaching to switch on his bedside light and check. His small digital radio wasn't switched on. Puzzled, he pulled back his blanket and got out of bed to go to the bathroom. As he was about to pass the oblong mirror that was fitted to his wardrobe door he gasped aloud and staggered back. Horrified, he gaped at the shimmering, ghostly, bulbous-headed thing that stared back at him. He felt the hair creep along the back of his neck when he heard the strange voice again.

'Con-or, I need your help. Come to me. Please.'

Conor stared at the head. It was slowly disappearing.

'Con-or, please help me. I need you. Come to me.'

The persistent voice now buzzed louder than before. Suddenly the apparition in the mirror was gone. Conor looked now at his own freckled face and his long rust-colored hair. He had brown eyes. He was wearing the bottoms of his blue pajamas.

'What the blinkin' heck was that?' he exclaimed. Though he wasn't frightened, he trembled. It had been the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. He brushed his fingers through his tousled hair. His heart was still pounding, as he crossed the room to his open window and looked out.

It was mid-July. The Irish countryside sang with the sounds of friendly night creatures. The clear sky was crowded with millions of stars.

'That is where I come from.'

'What?' choked Conor, backing away from the window.

'That is where I belong,' buzzed the voice.

Conor shook his head violently again. The voice was definitely coming from inside his head. But how? he thought. He felt his sweat coated brow. Maybe I'm cracking up.

'You will understand if you come to me,' said the voice.

'But who are you?' Conor said aloud, looking around.

'I am not sure. I've not been long awake. I know I belong among the stars, but an explanation will come to me soon. There seems to be a great weight crushing around me. A cold black liquid presses against my safety bulb.'

'Your what?' asked Conor. I have to be cracking up, he thought. I'm actually talking to it, whatever it is. Maybe I have cracked up. I am talking to myself after all. That's a sure sign.

'My safety craft. Yes, now I know. I do come from the stars. Yes, it's all slowly coming back to me. Good. Good. With your help I will learn more about myself. I really need your help, Con-or.'

'But...but why me?'

'Because your mind is a perfect receptacle for my mind search. Soon I will rise from... this lough... yes, now I know where I am. I am at the bottom of a lough.'

'You...you a...are?' stammered Conor.

'Yes. I want to be where you are. I need to be out of the water.'

'What lough are you in?' asked Conor. He blinked his eyes. There, he thought. I am talking to it. Now I know I've really cracked up.

'What lough? I don't know. I can't...wait I can. I see my location on the map. Let me translate it. Donegal. Yes. I am in Donegal. Do you know where that is?'

'Yes,' answered Conor. 'Donegal is near Sligo. That's where I live. It's miles away, eighty miles I think. I live in the center of Sligo.'

'Sligo. Ah, I see Sligo. Miles away? What is a mile? A distance. Miles away.'

Conor shook his head again. This can't be happening to me, he thought. All of a sudden he felt cold. Shivering he hurried back to his bed.

'Con-or, please don't go back to bed. I need your help. Come to me, please. Please.'

'Come to you?' exclaimed Conor. 'But I don't even know where you are.' He turned to his bedroom window. 'You say you are at the bottom of a lough in Donegal. I know there are hundreds of loughs in Donegal. If you really are at the bottom of one, how on earth can I help you?

'I won't be there for very long. I'll be rising soon, very soon. When I do I'll need your help. Con-or, please come to me. Help me please.'

'But how?'

'Come to me now.'

'But it's the middle of the night. I couldn't come to you now even if I knew where you were.'

'The middle of the night? I thought it was about 2am. Let me see it's 2.03.'

Conor glanced at his clock. It was exactly three minutes past two. 'Yes, and it's dark outside as well,' he snapped. What is happening to me? He shook his head again, but the buzzing voice only seemed to grow louder.

'Con-or, please. I need you. I have to contact the others.'

'Others? What others? What do you mean others? How many others?'

'Two others, a female and a male, they are about your age. Six griegles.'

'Six what?'

'Sorry, twelve of your years. Yes, that's right. A griegle is the same as two of your years.'

Conor sighed heavily. This isn't happening to me now, he thought. I must be dreaming. Yes, that's it. I'm dreaming, he exclaimed.

'You are not dreaming, Con-or. You must help me. Please. I have to break contact with you now. I must contact the others quickly. I must persuade them to come to me. You will come won't you?'

'But how can I? How will I know where to find you? How will I even get to Donegal?'

'You have a penny-farthing... no, it's called a cycle, a bicycle, a mountain bike. You have one, haven't you?'

'I have. But you surely don't expect me to cycle all the way to Donegal, do you? I couldn't possibly get there tonight. It's too far away.'

'It isn't. Please believe in me, Con-or. Get dressed and get on your bicycle. It won't take you long to get to the lough. Please, Con-or, believe in me. I need you and the others. I'm really depending on you to help me. I have to break contact with you now. Come to me, Con-or. Please.'